Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 26, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 June 1930 — Page 10

PAGE 10

OUT OUR WAY

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TwhTWives COPYRIGHT * BY ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE COLLIER'S WEEKLY

SYNOPSIS Eleanor, who has been married but an hour. Is called, without her husband’s knowledge, to the bedside of Phil. iwhom she had always loved, to find that he had attempted suicide. He vowed he would kill himself If she returned to her husband, and driven almost Insane by her Infatuation for Phil, she dashes to the fiat of her friend. Cynthia Brown, who Is so remarkably like her that even close friends cannot tell the two girls a °Eleanor in her extremity begs Cynthia to go to the hospttal and take her place for a short time until she can get a nurse for Phil. CHAPTER SIX EVEN as She herself would have caught the Implications, so this physical double, who seemed also her mental and spiritual twin, arrived at instant understanding. “And you want me to go back to him in your place?’’ Eleanor nodded. “Somehow, I knew you would.” The other girl nodded in her turn. As though there was nothing surprising in the request, her unspoken assent was devoid of excitement or apparent reservation. Her words, however, aualifled her manner. “If it will help you—if we’re both ’sure that it will help you?” Her speech ceased on a rising inflection. “Os course it will. He won’t bill himself.” “And that will help you?” asked Cynthia. The words seemed callous, but the voice was gentle. Eleanor stared at her in amazement. “Why, I love him!” she exclaimed. “And his living will help you? How?” “Why, you don’t want someone you love ito die!” Cynthia shrugged. “Death to the one vou love might not be so dreadful as disloyalty to the one you ought to love.” “Copy-book stuff.” cried Eleanor. “I didn’t come to you for maxims, for philosophy. Unless I’m back there in half an hour, Phil will tear the bandages off his wrist; he’ll bleed to death!” “And if you do go back there ” Eleanor interrupted her. “Not I—you!” . “But tomorrow—or next month — or next year?” Eleanor shook her head savagely. “Don't ask me to look that far ahead. It’s the next few minutes that I’m thinking of.” Gently Cynthia argued with her: “My dear, when a lifetime is involved. a few minutes become as important as a few years. Suppose I go down and masquerade as you? Sooner or later ” “I tell you I won't think about the later. It’s the now that matters.” “But the soon will be the then ” Again Eleanor interrupted her. “Words, you’re saying nothing but Words. And I haven’t time to talk. Vou dont’ seem to understand. Phil will kill himself. Do you understand what that means? Kill himself! I can see the blood on the bandages: I can see him tearing them off.” Her voice took on that quavering high note which may barely precede hysteria. a a a LIKE a flash Cynthia was by her side, had forced her upon a crouch, was sitting beside her, with an arm around her. “You can’t do that. You mustn't do that. If you start to cry ” Eleanor released herself from the embrace. “I won’t, if you’ll promise.” "I’ve already promised, if it will help you.” “And I’ve told you that it will. We can’t go over that again.” "But we must,” insisted Cynthia. “For, while I want to help you, you want to help him. dont you?” “But I've told you how to help him.” Cynthia shook her head. “How to help him for the minute, but you aren’t thinking beyond the moment. And you must! For the minute he finds out—and he must find out—we’re right where we are now. The girl he loves, and who loves him, has married someone else.” “But it gives me time to think, time to plan," said Eleanor. "Time to plan what?” asked Cynthia. “How can I tell?” Eleanor again was standing on the edge of hysteria. “But you must find out your plan bow. What can you do for him a week from now that you can’t do bow? You cant leave your husband* You can’t go to this man •

Phil. You say you love him, but you wouldn’t leave your husband fcr him, would you?” “I know that I’m going to leave my husband right now,” asserted Eleanor, “unless you go right to Phil.” “You’d do a thing like that?” demanded Cynthia. “Os course I would! Wouldn’t you? To save the man you loved, the only man you ever loved or ever could love? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t, because you and I would do the same thing.” “And you’ll do the dreadful thing of leaving your husband? Like any heroine of a back-stairs novel?” “Don’t be disgusted; you’d do it too. Wouldn’t you?” Cynthia Brown looked at the girl who, in everything save the clothing they wore, was herself. “I suppose I would,” she admitted. “Then you’ll do it?” ana SHE didn’t wait for a reply, but stood up and began tearing off the traveling dress that she wore. “You’ll have to wear the dress I wore. He’s half conscious, but he might notice. His name is Phil Jennings. He’s at the Burlingame, Lexington avenue, near Gramercy park.” Cynthia put forth a restraining hand. “Eleanor, you're utterly mad. Grant that we do look alike and speak alike, still ” “It isn’t those things alone—we are alike, inside.” “But even then,” protested Cynthia. “The things that happened between you the intimacies—his first reminder of something that I ought to remember as well as he does ” Eleanor stepped forth from her dress. Cynthia, even in that moment, was able to feel a faint envy of the quality and texture of the garments that Eleanor wore next her body. “I tell you,” said Eleanor, “that he's only half conscious.” “But he won't remain that way,” objected Cynthia. “But 111 come down. I don’t know where Dean and I are going.” Her I face crimsoned with a blush of ; painful embarrassment. “But it I won’t be far; I’ll change the plans. > She averted her eyes from the quesI tioning glance of Cynthia. “Tomor- | row ” She interrupted herself to take ! hold of Cynthia’s shoulders, as ; though to act as maid for her. The ; other girl disengaged herself. “But don’t you see. you love him? | No matter how much I seem like | you, I can’t possibly seem like the > girl who loves him.” “But hell be thinking of the girl I he loves,” said Eleanor. “No man identifies a woman that I way. If he were dying, in the very second of his death he’d be able to tell the difference between the girl he loved and the girl who pretended to love him.” Eleanor started at her. “You think he'd know?” “Because you love him, and because he knows you love him, yes,” Cynthia replied. Speculation hat was desperationborn crept into Eleanor's eyes. “I don’t love Dean, and he knows I don’t,” she said slowly. a a a ELEANOR knew her own features and the combinations of expression that could flit across her own face. Many a time, like every other young girl, she had sat before a mirror and tried to reproduce the expressions of her favorite stage or screen star of the moment. And now if was like looking at a closeup of herself. The black eyes of Cynthia first were childishly round, then narrowed in bewilderment. The quizzical brows arched, then flattened in a straight line; the delicate nostrils quivered, and the short upper lip trembled. Across that lovely countenance incredulity chased surprise and was pursued by horror. “Now I know you're mad,” said Cynthia. She raised a hand—even the nails, that should have been ! perfect almonds but conformed to fashion’s unbeautiful pointed ends, were exactly like Eleanor’s—to si- I lence Eleanor’s protest. "Utterly, ] absolutely and viciously mad! Vicious, that’s the word. Even to be able to think such a thing—it’s too horrible.” “I know it,” agreed Eleanor. “But j it’s more horrible letting Phil die, isn’t it?” I

—Bv Williams

“Not to me,” cried Cynthia. “Why”—and now her voice rose until it was a phonographic reproduction of Eleanor’s own shrill inflections of a moment ago—“l don’t even know your Phil! I don’t even know your husband! I don’t even know you! And yet you’re asking me to do an incredible thing!” “You do know me,” retorted Eleanor. “As well as I know myself, as well as I know you. And you aren’t shocked, any more than I am: you’re afraid. And I haven’t asked you, anyway.” a a a THE childishness of the lasi sentence brought an irrepressible smile to Cynthia’s lips. “And not having asked me, you’re not going to? You’re not even suggesting it?” “I’m telling you what I’m going to do; that's all,” declared Eleanor. “You’ve shown me how impossible it is for you to go to Phil, convinced me that he’d instantly know that you were you and not I. So I’m going to Phil.” “And the man you’ve married, who loves you—what about him?” demanded Cynthia. “Eleanor, you can’t do such a thing.” “If there are only two roads to take, and one can’t stand still, one of the roads must be traveled,” retorted Eleanor. “And how can there be any question as to which one to take, when one leads to misery and disgrace, and the other to decency?” “You’re leaving out happiness,” said Eleanor. “And do you think that you can find happiness with Phil, when ail the time you’ll know that you’ve made a vulgar joke of an honorable man? When you’ll know that you’ve ruined your husband’s life?” “Two lives are more important than one,” declared Eleanor. “Why should I cause Phil’s death, be miserable myself?” “Because it’s your fault, and Phil’s fault, that you two can be made miserable. Had one or both of you had decent courage, you’d have gone to him long ago or he’d have come and taken you. Instead you permit another man to love you; encourage him; marry him.” For a moment Eleanor forgot the desperate need of haste. She sat down on the couch and lighted a cigaret. Something incongruously comic made mirth flicker in the eyes of Cynthia. , Here was a girl who had done a most bizarre thing and who contemplated doing something even more grotesque. Yet, clad only in silk knickers and a brassiere, she perched on the couch and puffed a cigaret! “The one thing I couldn't believe I’d get from you, you’ve given me: reproach,” said Eleanor. “I thought that from you I’d get only help.” (To Be Continued.) Newspapers are Merged HOBART, Ind., June 10.—The Hobart News, published here for sixteen years, by O. P. Pattee, has been purchased by the Merchants Publishing Company, purchasers of the Hobart Gazette.

THE SON OF TARZAN

Night came before Baynes regained consciousness and realized that he was floating down a ".reat African river-alone, wounded and lost! By using his cpen palm as a paddle, he painfully managed to move the native canoe nearer to shore. Almost apposite him he could hear the roaring of a lion. An overhanging tree branch brushed his face. Eagerly he grasped it, testing its strength. He would seek safety in the trees

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He drew himself slowly upward until his feet swung clear of the canoe, which, released, floated silent from beneath him and lost itself in the dark shadow downstream. He had burned his bridges behind him. Again the lion roared. Baynes wondered if it had been following him. He struggled to raise one leg over the limb, but, weak from bullet wounds, he found his strength ebbing.

—By Martin

He was ready to drop from exhaustion when anew fear tightened his muscles. He saw two spots of flame a short distance from and above him. Ihe lion was standing on the river bank glaring at him—waiting! The young Englishman’s feet hung almost to the water’s surface. He heard a slight commotion in the river beneath him, followed by a sound that froze his blood. It was the click of a crocodile’s great jaws snapping together.

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

He struggled futilely to safety. Even as he did so he felt himself slipping—into the river and those frightful jaws Thin he heard the leaves above him rustle to the movement of seme creeping creature. Tt* branch he hun/ upon bent from ag added weight. Still Baynes clung desperately. "He felt a soft warm pad upon the Angers of one hand and then a hand reached down and dragged him up among the branches of the tree.

_JUNE 10, 1930

By Ahem

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan