Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 38, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 June 1930 — Page 6

“uT OUR WAY

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TwiifWives COPV RIGHT* * BY ARTHUR. SOMERS ROGUE COLLIERS WEEKLY

SYNOPSIS Cvnthia Brown, dancing girl and double of Eleanor Sanver. heiress, knew It would be hopeless to try and find Eleanor and ner lover Phil. Jennings and she finally decided to eo back to the house of Dean Carev to whom Eleanor had been married that day and wait there for the missing and runaway bride to return. This was the only possibly way In which Eleanor, whom she instinctively felt was in deep trouble, could get in touch with her. At the house she felt that she must keep Carev at a distance as this was his wedding night and he did not know that Cvnthia was only a double with an amazing resemblance to his wife. Cvnthia. to keep him at a distance Insctilts him until in wounded pr de he withdarws and she locks herself in the room for the night awaiting a call from Eleanor which does not come. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN AND then she suddenly realized that three weeks had elapsed since she had yielded to the importunities of Eleanor. Bravely she had breakfasted with Dean the morning after his marriage. And if the butler had suspected dissonances in the marriage chord last night at dinner, he would have been a brighter person than any butler has a right to be had he not been deceived by Dean’s manner at breakfast. There was exactly the right shade of tenderness in Dean’s voice, in his attitude. And Cynthia, shamed and hating herself, played up to Dean. At least, no matter how much she had humiliated him privately, she would not hurt him publicly. Within a few days they had settled down to a routine that, had any one prophesied it, Cynthia would have dismissed as impossible. Gentle, considerate, no bride could have found fault with Dean’s manner when there were others present. But when they two w'ere alone the man instantly withdrew into a shell of reserve. He made no advances, and she seemed to sense that he •would make none. Advances must come from her. Yet cripples who have railed at the loss of a limb have resigned themselves to the inevitable, and lound that life could still be carried on and daily duties performed. There yet is to be discovered a situation to which humanity can not adapt itself. An armed neutrality that could burst into open warfare at any moment. but that, at the end of three weeks had not done so! Breakfast together: then, during the first week. Dean had withdrawn to his ■study, where he had busied him- . self upon mysterious papers that \ had to do, Cynthia supposed, with \ matters of law or politics. \ For that first week they had |unched and dined together, but after that Dean frequently went out in the morning and did not reappear until evening. Sometimes, then, he would propose dinner at some restaurant, with the theater ti follow, but she always refused. | For who knew at what minute [ Eleanor might telephone? Waiting i for w'ord from Eleanor became an •obsession with Cynthia. • At times she wondered if Eleanor md Jennings had died, been killed |n some accident. But such an occurrence. even though it happened to people of no particular importance, hardly could escape being l chronicled in the daily press, v Another alternative, that the couple had fled to some remote spot, presented itself in her thoughts. But she was stubborn in he belief that Eleanor would have let her Couble know if she had contemplated flight. Disloyal Eleanor might be to her husband, but surely not to the girl whose physical resemblance was but the minor part in the tie between them. nan SOMETHING prevented Eleanor i from communlcat ng with her. and little by little the idea crept into Cynthia's mind that to remain quiescent was not enough. There must be ways of finch. ’ missing persons. k For this intolerable situation I could not continue indefinitely. The • fact that it had gone on three gweeks when Cynthia had believed Bhat it hardly could last three hours Bps no proof that it could endure other minute. ■ The newspapers, after a couple of of speculation as to the locaBp of the honeymoon, had diseovBd that the bridal couple had B|e directly to their New York had been a few items Bred about this, and then events Bhina, a murder trial and an suit had relegated the Hp to obscurity, until they mmr* * T an ~ “

Cynthia had begun to believe that’ this appearance could not be much longer delayed. Eleanor’s friends— | and apparently they were innumer- | able, judging from the invitations j that came with every mail—would I expect the bridal pair to want a moderate period of seclusion. But I that period had about reached its: end. Tom Sanver made her self- j formed conclusions definite. Business apparently (although re- j tired from active administration, I Sanver made occasional trips about; the country to look after his investments) had called Eleanor’s father to New Orleans on the dayafter his daughter’s marriage. Now, an hour after his return, he was dining with the Careys. “Not changed a bit, Mrs. Carey,” he laughingly told her. He turned to Dean and wrung the hand of his son-in-law. “You look fine, too. Heard lots of nice things about you down south. “The folks down there are mighty interested in New York politics. They always see a potential President in any man that makes a reputation in public office up here.” Carey laughed. “And yet Roosevelt was the only New Yorker to be chosen President in this century.” Sanver shook his white head. “That’s all right. If New York doesn’t furnish the President itself, it usually decides who will be chosen. But we aren’t going to worry about that now. “The point is that your record looks good to the rest of the country, and that won’t do any harm when your name comes up for nomination as governor.” Cynthia hid her surprise. She had gathered that Dean was interested in politics, knew that he had made a brilliant success in the district attorney's office, but she had not been aware that he was looked upon as gubernatorial timber and that friends of his might hold even more grandiose ideas concerning his future. n n THROUGH dinner she said little. But she listened while the two men discussed politics, and she learned new things about Dean. Liberal-minded, but no crank, aware of the futility of attempting the creation of a Utopia, he had the sort of sanity that should appeal to all thinking men. And she already knew that he had the personality which ought to arouse enthusiasm in the unthinking voter. She did not need to be told that any scandal would injure him irreparably in his career. She had known that all along, but she bocanie more poignantly aware of this at dinner tonight. And her resolution that she would make an attempt to seek out Eleanor was strengthened by the new under - sta: ding of possibilities of his political future. Why. if it ever leaked out that his bride’s place had been taken by a stranger, the jeering scorn of a nation would bury him in private life. She left the two men at their cigars. Sanver's manner changed instantly when she had left the room. Into his voice crept a note of belligerency. "What you been doing to my little girl?” he demanded. Carey contemplated the end of his cigar. “So you noticed something wrong?” he inquired. “Who the devil could help notice it?" countered his father-in-law. “Just what seems wrong to you?” asked Carey. “She ain’t happy. A blind man could tell that, and I’m not exactly i blind where my daughter is concerned.” “And I suppose I look like the usual happy bridegroom, eh?” Cai rey’s voice was sardonic. Sanver puffed at his cigar a moment before replying. Then he placed it in a saucer and lighted a fresh one. “Gossip and I never were dose friends,” he said. “Least of all, do I listen to talk about people I love.” He found difficulty with the fresh cigar, put it down and forgot to pick it up again. “Still less,'’ he went on. “do I listen to servants’ talk. But my 1 valet is pretty chummy with Eleanor's maid. I’ve had the man j twenty years and he forgets his j place. I shut him up pretty quickly i but—watL what’s wrong?” ' “So }t uX daughter looks all right?

—By Williams

It’s just your valet’s talk—” “Don’t try to stall with me,” interrupted the elder man. “Eleanor looks bad. Worried, that’s what she is. And you, too! A body couldnt’ help but feel the strain you're under. Hasn’t marriage worked out all right?” st n a "eipHERE hasn’t been any mar-^ JL riage,” said Carey quietly. “Your daughter made a mistake. Like most mistakes, someone else pays the penalty. She thought she liked me well enough to marry me. She was wrong. “For a moment, after we came here, I though that all her doubts were settled. Then she slipped out of the house and when she came back she was—different.” Sanver wrinkled his forehead. “What do you mean by different?” Carey shrugged. ‘‘l mean that before she went out she gave me reason to think that she cared for me, and when she returned it was to tell me that my touch would make- her htae me.” “And of course you didn’t touch her?” “Os course,” said Carey. Sanver looked down at his plate. “There are men, you know, who’d conquer a woman who behaved like that." “And you’d have me try that?” asked Carey. “If I thought you had, or would, I’d blow your brains out.” Sanver’s tone was casual, but Carey knew that he meant what he said. “No,” Sanver continued, “I was just feeling you out. I knew you weren’t that kind. But you two can’t go on this way. Had any more talk with her?” Carey’s eyes blazed resentfully. “What sort of man do you think I am? Do you think I’m going to plead with her? She made mistake, and I’m suffering for it. But the mistake isn’t wholly hers, at that. A man who marries a woman who isn’t sure she’s in love is pretty much of a damn fool.” “Well, what do you propose to do about it?” asked Sanver. “Nothing.” Carey was laconic, Sanver tried a third clear. His wrinkled hands, mottled with those brown spots which tell of age, j shook painfully. I “I don’t think I need to tell you, i Dean, how much my girl means to me. Too much! Because you can reach a point in loving someone where you butt in too strongly. I did that four years ago. I thought I was right there, and I still think : so. But I guess that being right about people doesn't qualify you to stick your nose into their affairs. We think we know what’s good for those we love, but only God really knows. The trouble with a father is that he’s liable to think he’s a god.” (Tq Be Continued) Boy’s Arm Broken ANDERSON, Ind., June 24.—William Schmitz, 5. son of Mr. and Mrs. A. F. Schmitz, was the victim of the first cherry tree accident here. He suffered a broken arm.

THE SON OF TARZAN

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The Sheik eyed Korak for a long while without speaking. He was trying to think of some form of torture that would gratify his rage and hatred toward this creature who twice had been the means of his losing possession of Meriem. Beyond the palisade came the trumpeting of an elephant. A half smile touched Korak’s Ups and he gav a low, weird call bef|re one of the blacks guardite him struck him Savagely across the mouth. \

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FR

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WASHINGTON TUEBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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None knew the significance of that call, save Tantor, in the jungle, who cocked his ears as the sound of Korak’s voice fell upon them. He approached the palisade and Ufting his trunk above it, sniffed. In his tent the Sheik arose at last, and, pointing toward the bound captive, called two of his biggest slaves. "Burn him,” he commanded. “At once.” To a stake in the open space of the village center they dragged-ICorak and bound him tightly.

lENDS

—By Martin

Bringing brushwood, they piled it high about him. and thp Sheik came that he might enjoy the agonies of his victim. But Korak did not wince even after the flames shot up. Again he raised his voice in the same low call and this time came the answering trumpeting of an elephant. Outside the palisade, Tantor had placed his head against the wooden logs pushed; but the palisade was strong and only gave z little to the pressure.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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/"DRUIN THERE Age MANS AMAZINGSIGHTS. TeMPl£S\ ! t-Jof theToao-wooshwpecs resemble toap stools. gg|§f Trtt HOW MEM, TO SHOW TrtEtft SAMCTfN, HOP INSTEAD ||§g. K ffi-ar Hfl tl mj Or WALK, AMD PEOPLE ARE JUDGED, NOT 6V THEIR ||jr * ■■■ll / 7/ L ) amp the mammoth palace of the emperor ■ " are magnificent, and guttering wan goid L AMP SALVER AMP PRECIOUS JEWELS. sem-iet.mc ws us‘pt err.- —. s

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(oh, y’a CPJAe in ten see." GitAtoe-TW TkiRTT ABOUT TtV CAR- OUTSIDE, . FW& BUCKS * _ UOHg -1 v I ( I'U-fAKe. \\ . u a.~fir.orr. \

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

” w~ Wuwii I Ml \ir / t f t Waifai)

The sound of Korak’s voice calling him, and the scent of man, his enemy, filled the great beast with rage and resentment against the dumb barrier that held him back. He wheeled and shuffled back a dozen paces. Then he turned, lifted his trunk and giving voice to a mighty, trumpet-call of anger, lowered his head and charged like a huge battering ram of flesh and bone and muscle straight at the roigtt|r barrier which sagged and splintered to the intact*

,jm i, 1930

—Tt/Ahern >

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan