Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 25, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 June 1930 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OUT OUR WAY

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TwiifWives COPY RIGHT * BY ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE COLLIER'S WEEKLY

SYNOPSIS An extraordinary affinity developed between Eleanor Sanvers. a great heiress, and Cynthia Brown, a chorus girl, due to the amazing resemblance of the two girls to each other. After the elaborate wedding ceremony Dean. Eleanor’s husband. kissed her and she knew that she did not love him. Her whole love was still centered on Phil, from whom her father had tom her four years before. Returning to the house after the wedding, she changes to a traveling dress Just as she learns that Phil has tried to commit suicide. She rushes down the back stairs and reaches him Just in time to save him from bleeding to death. He is conscious and declares that he will reopen his wounds if she leaves him. CHAPTER FIVE AS her father seemed to communicate with her along nonexistent wires, so now someone else seemed to communicate with her, seemed to say, "Here am I.” "I must go, but I'll come back In less than half an hour.” “You mean it?” "I promise,” she told him. For she couldn’t let Phil die. But also she couldn’t leave Dean. From one horn of the dilemma she leaped to the other. But again she seemed to hear Cynthia’s voice saying. "Here am I.” Through Cynthia she might escape both horns. Kneeling beside the bed, she appraised the pitiful figure upon it. Fear, a desperation close to madness, pain and loss of blood all combined to prejudice him in the eyes of any impartial observer. Even to one who was not impartial, even to Eleanor Sanver, who was risking in his behalf things beyond estimate, he was not an admirable object. The physical and mental torments which he endured stole from him that camouflage which nature graciously grants to all of us, but which she strips from us in the moment that we violate her ordinances. Unwillingly, unwittingly even, she compared him to Dean Carey, and the comparison was overwhelmingly to the advantage of her husband. Dean was not only stronger mentally, but he possessed spiritual things beyond the attainment of Phil Jennings. She looked at the brown eyes, a little bloodshot now, noted the weakly amiable mouth, the obstinate chin and the too straight nose. This was the man whom she had loved for four years, and over whom she hovered now with a fiercely protective urge. Bitter regrets fought vainly against the unwelcome urge. After all, a real man would not have waited for a gesture from her four years ago. Phil should have recognized that she had pride as well as he and should have known that pride suffers no real diminution of stature by bending over. Common sense whispered a warning that here was one who would always put her in the wrong no matter how right she was. For a moment, as she knelt there, her expression was almost as pitiful as that of the man on the bed. And this quality had the same source in her that it had in him They were both sorry for themselves. , Only—and herein lay the difference between weakness and strength —Phil pitied himself because of what life had done to him. whereas Eleanor pitied herself because of what she would do to life. a a a NEVERTHELESS she loved him, and alw'ays would love him. And so. regardless of whac hurt might he done to others, even to herself, she must take action that would save him. Os course, there was no possible action. Honor and sanity spoke to her, told her that perhaps already she had worked an irreparable injury to Dean, that her life—and Dean’s life—already lay in ruins, and that there remained only the scantest chance that she could gather up the wreckage and restore it to a semblance of outward repair. "Yet, like the still small voice of hope, she seemed again to hear the voice of Cynthia. She seemed to see the face and figure so nearly like her own, and a wild courage came to her. She rose, pulled the coverlet high under Phil’s chin and, in reply to the desperate pleading in his eyes, bent over and kissed him. His lips hardly responded, but & light flashed ii hi# eyes.

“Now I know you’ll come back,” he said. Almost instantly his eyes closed. Whether or not the furtive physician had given him opiates she did not know. He had done many things in the ten minutes he had spent working over Phil, and her agony had been too acute for her to pay attention to details. Perhaps Phil had been given a sedative, or possibly the slumber into which he was dropping was the natural consequence of his condition. She tiptoed to the door. Outside stood the bell boy whom she had tipped magnificently. He was obsequious to servility. "Thought I’d stay here in case you needed me, miss.” His greedy eyes asked almost insolently for another tip. Eleanor gave it to him. “The doctor will be back with a nurse in a moment. Meanwhile you stay with him,” she ordered. att a THE boy nodded assent. His knowing eyes looked over her, and she was conscious that she rubbed elbows with depravity and that this slight contact might prove to be but a prelude to further intimacies. She ran down the stairs, anxious to avoid the boy’s eyes. She wondered if by any possible chance he could have recognized her. Small wonder if he did, with her photograph in every morning newspaper. And another terror presented itself as she reached the dingy lobby. The clerk stepped from behind his desk and accosted her. “Takes a lot to keep a thing like this out of the papers,’ he insinuated, nodding in the direction of the stairway. His eyes, too, were greedy as she handed him the almost openly demanded tip. “But it must be kept quiet,” she insisted. “Ycu can count on me, and Doc Jeffords is a wise guy,” said the clerk. Once again she felt soiled by a loathsome contact, and warnings seemed to be whispered to her But she ignored them.

On the street she picked up the first cruising taxi and gave the man Cynthia Brown’s address. Caution would have indicated to her that it might have been wiser to take a taxi from a stand around the corner, but the warnings which came to her were not specific, were but the vague hints that wrongdoing gives the doer. On Forty-eighth street, beyond Eighth avenue, her taxi stopped. A glance at her wrist watch showed her that the journey had taken ten minutes. v She told the man to wait, and ran into the shabby lobby of the apartment house where Cynthia Brown lived. A languid colored boy shifted his drooping cigaret from one side of his mouth to the other, plugged in the telephone and spoke to some one unseen. He looked at Eleanor “Miss Brown says she wants to know your name.” “Eleanor,” said the girl. a a a THE colored boy wrestled with the name, while every second of delay became an added agony. But finally he managed to utter an approximation of the name. He jerked a stubby thumb toward the elevator. “Says come up,” he stated, and resumed the fascinating occupation of apparently swallowing his cigaret and then permitting it to emerge from his mouth again. Eleanor didn't notice what he was doing, and the telephone boy felt that hatred toward the world which genius, conscious of itself, but unrecognized, always feels. Had fie known the phrase, he would have murmured something about pearls and swine. On the third floor the elevator stopped. The operator indicated a door, but his direction was unnecessary, for as Eleanor stepped out of the elevator the door opened and her double stood framed in the entrance. 9ynthia's hand wax outstretched, but Eleanor ignored it. She almost pushed the chorus girl and entered the tiny living room. Obsessed as she was with her own difficulties, she yet had time before she spoke to take in the mean surroundings A tattered curtain obviously attempted to Hide a bed. A half-

—By Williams

opened door showed that the narrow bathroom was also a kitchen. The furniture, the rug on the floor—everything in the room spoke of limited means, and it was guessed easily that those means must be elastic even to cover this poor home. Only some toilet essentials, on top of a chest of drawers above which hung a warped mirror, gave evidence of daintiness on the part of the owner; those and the scrupulous neatness of the room and the daintiness of Cynthia herself.. For, though her dress was worn, its lines were good ,and the lovely body underneath lent the garment distinction, if her stockings had been darned, they had been drawn on correctly, s~ that their seams did not wander around the back of the calves. And if the slippers had been resoled, they were shined glossily. an a IF the room and its occupants spoke of anything beyond poverty, they told of a brave and scrupulous spirit. And of something more than these; of a recklessness that was equal to anything in the character of Eleanor. For among the toilet articles was a bottle of perfume that Eleanor recognized as being one of the most expensive known. Quick of perception, Eleanor wondered bow many of the necessities of life Cynthia had forgotten in order that she might enjoy one luxury. This was a tangible evidence of extravagance or recklessness, but more revealing were the intangible evidences which Eleanor felt but did not see. Wide-eyed, Cynthia waited for her visitor to speak. Now that she was here, the vague plan that had been formulating in Eleanor’s mind became an absurdity born of despair. If last night she had thought the resemblance remarkable, today, in the sunlight that poured into the room, the resemblance was uncanny. The vague plan lost its absurdity and became a possibility easy ol fulfillment. “You’re surprised at seeing me?’ she broke the silence. Cynthia made no reply; she merely nodded. , Eleanor glanced at her wrist watch. More precious minutes, any one of which might bring discovery to Dean of the fact that his bride had disappeared, had elapsed. She hated the minutes that explanation must use up, and so words gusheG from her, tumbled over each other: “The man I love—the only man 1 ever can love—silly misunderstanding—and this morning he tried to kill himself. Sent me a note telling what he’d done, and I left the house instantly. He was alive, and I got a doctor. But he’ll kill himself if I don’t go back. He means it. And I can’t gc back. Why, Dean may know now that I’m not in my room. It will be awful explaining. And the longer I’m gone the worse it gets. But u promised Phil I’d be back. Then J thoughr, of you.” (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

The black man at the paddle held the canoe in midstream. Dazed, he knew not what to do. Then he saw Baynes feebly attempt to move. The black crawled forward and lifted the white man to a sitting position. As he did so there was another shot from shore and the Negro pitched backward overboard, the paddle still clutched in his dead fingers. Another bullet whizzed close to the Englishman's head before he could reach protection.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

\mhY Dillydally around I ncam just veep your suirtl f yeau-ueS a dock— LIVE TUIS? LETS MAV.fi 1 ON-FRECVLES LULL HANDLE NICEST ONE t ENER SAW THAT INDIAN VID AND ) TUIS O-K.-UIOS CAN SET ' -|N FACT - ABE NT YoO AFBAiD UiS nucu take us (7 To SETH ER. BETTER THAN IF' YoOR MAMA IS LOOVINS FCG. *s*_. J6'D 60 BUTTING IN-LOOK'. YoO? WHERE IS YOUR Htusvce regular, pals r mama? '-100 must u/ne XT °u - \<.

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

■'^ aS * e %/V* UNKNOWN PEOPLE NHAT'S X NAT WORSHIP 2ETOM). IP THE \ HA, YOU NEVAVR HEAR. A K\Nt>LM FRENCH SERGEANT HAS AGREED TO SUP WASH A AND H)S FRIENDS THRO THE CHOLERA QUARANTINE. •-* THEM MEET HIM ABOVIE THE-YiLLAGE ON PATROL. ) 9 {C^

SALESMAN SAM

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MJM’N POP

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Lying down in the canoe, Baynes turned weakly to face the shore and there saw Malbihn resting on his elbows, again leveling his rifle. The Swede had been sore hit. His aim was not as sure now. With difficulty Baynes turned over and grasping his revolver drew himself up until he could aim over the edge of the canoe. With painstaking care Jae-fcook aim. A flash, a report, and Malbihn’s giant figure jerked to the impact of another bullet. *

—By Martin

But he was not yet dead. Again the Swede fired, the shot splintering the canoe close to Baynes' face. Baynes replied and thus, doggedly, the two wounded men continued to carry on their weird duel until the winding river had carried the young Englishman around a wooded point beyond the range of Malbihn’s bullets. Then the Hon. Morison Baynes slumped weakly into the bottom of the canoe and lay there for hours in a partial stupor,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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wt eat? vm’as \ the: mouse is (thuq young upstmit, ... l M7CNt | \ HUNGRY AS A HORSE 1 MIL PI&HT BUT THE NAMED CHICK.HAS BEEN J rT HAT ) WERE GLADYS,TAKE THIS /NE \GHBOPS-ONE CALLING ON GLADYS AND / ~ c J UPSTAIRS. NNELL.HOW /OF THE GUNN BRfflS KEEPING ML UP ‘TIL / U / .... ..... .. ..... ... .

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The echoes of the shooting came faintly to the keen ears of another white man; a tall, broad-shouldered giant In khaki riding at the head of a swarthy crew of sleek black natives. The man’s face was set in hard, stern lines and the marks of sorrow were written deep about his mouth. It was the Big Bwana. Returning home he had found Mcriem gone. Baffled by her disappearance, he was trailing an Arab band.

..JUNE 9, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosses

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan