Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 40, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 June 1930 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OUT OUR WAY •

~~ ME.6,1 V<kiOWJ iTA MEvaj “"v. . BocvVeT—new o/tnAuus*) \ 01-A MA- Y <a>\YTti CE.KTT& VWORTH OF FOOD \ Good gosh_ Y a dam' amd moor Pav €> / Put so me \ Fiftv cents a dav. j MOPE. Kl • \ DBE AAEAO F VOO y REMEMBER VMORK VACATIOMS. XM WORvW f>7r £ ftV t ; lfc MOMENTS VsJEJO uwg TO UVE OT*UjmS HEG U S PAT OFT. TWAE. TOTAL- J3SS . 01930 BY MCA SERVICE. INC. - *

COPV RIGHT * BY ARTHUR

SYNOPSIS Tom Sanvfr. millionaire father, who hari a blustering wav of trying to solve everybody's problems Questioned Dean Carev about the situation as he had heard irossin from hts servants and learned that the pair. Carev and his daughted never had lived together as man and wife. The father then tried to take his ‘daughter” back to his own house, utterly Ignorant of the fact that it was another girl acting as double for his daughter, but Cynthia Brown, the Wtrl of the chorus. Eleanor’s twin, refused to go and stood by Dean, waiting hourly for word from Eleanor, heiress and real wife, only to encounter continued disappointment. CHAPTER TWENTY •■T’VE heard of women refusing to 1 live with their husbands. That's fair enough. One can change one’s mind after the ceremony just as well as before. But people who want to eat their cake and have It. too—what can you make of them? You don’t love me. Yet you want to stay here. Why?” She wondered what would happen if she told him the bizarre truth. That queer perversity whose Impulses she had experienced before this evening made her tremble on the verge of disclosure. That was the ’ simple way 'out of the situation. But Eleanor would be destroyed if she did this. Also she dreaded the look that would appear on the face of Dean if she yielded to the impulse. That look might come there some day, she was afraid, but please God she would not be present to witness it. “I can’t tell you why. If you press me any further. I’ll do what my father wants me to do. If you let me alone, permit things to go on as they are—” "For ho.v long?” he interrupted her. ‘’We’ve been married three weeks. How much longer will you need?” “I can’t tell,” she replied. “Can’t tell! If I listened to a conversation like this between two other people, I wouldn’t believe my ears!” he cried. “We seem so mad?" she asked. “You do! A.’d I do, too—because I tolerate you.” Then anger left him. He came to her and held out his hands. “Eleanor, I love you so much that what you do seems to make no difference. But we can’t go on indefinitely. If you’ll name a time, if you’ll promise at the end of that time either to be my wife or divorce me—” “Three months,” she said. She could not have told why she named this period. Perhaps she read his mind and guessed the limit of his endurance. “All right,” he said. And abruptly he left the room. A moment later she went to her bedroom. Her limbs were heavy, and her mind seemed strangely clouded. A most dangerous situation had been bridged over temporarily, and she should have felt that elation which follows victory. But this was such a cheap victory. More lies, more evasions and more hurt done to Dean. a a a MARY, the maid, was fussing about the room when Cynthia entered, and she struggled against the inclination to scold the woman. But that was a vulgarity impossible to her. After all. servants are human and gossip is innate among all classes. But if the servants, with their opportunity for intimate observation, were already gossiping, how long would it be before Eleanor’s friends knew that the marriage had gone awry? If Tom Sanver’s valet dared even hint to his master the gossip that he had gleaned, how could Cynthia be sure that the man hadn’t talked to other valets? Not that servants’ chatter was of too great importance, but Eleanor’s return must not be made more difficult than necessary. Still, she assured herself as she went to sleep, there wasn't anything that she could do which would make matters any better. But in the morning she realized that there were things which she decently could do that would help the situation somewhat. There was no reason why she should antagonize all of Eleanor's friends. There was no reason, really, why she should be concerned over Eleanor's friends, but if she were to continue in the role which she had assumed she might just as well do it wholeheartedly. Heaven knows whether or not Eleanor would return in the three months’ grace which Dean last night had granted. And Cynthia no longer could stay in the house awaiting a sKssage. • That 'was why she ac-

cepted Tessie Curwood’s invitation to luncheon. She had no difficulty in recognizing Mrs. Curwood as she entered the Ritz. Cynthia had studied the scores of photographs which she had found in Eleanor’s effects, and there was not one whose original she wouldn’t have known at sight. “About time you left your little bower,” Mrs. Curwood chided her between effusive kisses. “Honeymooning is all very well, but it’s like eating quail every day. There must be some variety of acquaintance as there must be of diet.” Two other women rushed up before Cynthia could frar.it a reply. One of them she recognized as Myrtle Saunders; the other she didn’t know and was Lightened. However, her fears were groundless, for Terrie Curwod introduced the woman as a Mrs. Blake. As lor Myrtle Saunders, that girl obviously never had been intimate with Eleanor, and Cynthia made no error in being cooly friendly. Fortunately, so Cynthia thought, the other two women were not invited to the luncheon. She preferred to deal with Eleanor's friends one at a time. a a a AND dealing with Tessie Curwood was very easy, for the opulent blonde, upon whom Randolph Curwood lavished so much affection and money, was always too engrossed with her own affairs to bother much with the affairs of any one else. She hardly asked after Dean before she was fully launched in a most detailed account of the passion which she had inspired in an attache of a South American legation. “How does Mr. Curwood feel about it?” asked Cynthia. She didn’t know how well Eleanor knew Tessie Curwood’s husband. but evidently she knew him well enough to call him by his first name. Tire same curiosity that had come into Dean’s eyes last night when she had spoken of “Mister Sanver” flickered in Mrs. Curwood's eyes now. Cynthia hastily amended the error. “How is Rannie, anyway?” she asked. The vague bewilderment disappeared from Tessie’s eyes. She rattled on at a great rate all through the luncheon. Then, glancing at the wrist watch, the cost cf which would have paid the salary of a Zogbaum chorus girl for a year, she gasped with horror. “Pierre won’t wait one minute if you’re late,” she cried. "Barbers put on more airs than cabaret performers these days. They have more temperament than artists ever had. But he’s the only man west of Paris who really knows how to cut hair, so we have to put up with him. “Well, I just can’t wait .for the check and I haven't money enough to pay for it. So will you sign it and let me pay the next time?” Cynthia had entered the Ritz with that air of assurance which only expensive clothes can give to a woman. She never had been in the restaurant before, but she had an idea of its scale of prices. She had thought that there was money in the bag she carnrjd. Unfortunately, opening it. she discovered that, save for the three dollar bills and some silver, the bag was empty. How could she sign Eleanor’s name without almost instant discovery of the imposture? She didn’t even know what Eleanor’s signature looked like. And here was the waiter presenting the check. It lay face down upon a plate, with a pencil beside it. n m THEN she picked up the pencil with her left hand and laboriously scrawled the three names. She looked up at the waiter with an apologetic smile that was a triumph of acting, because behind it was a real fear. In addition to everything else, this might be construed as criminal forgery. “I’ve hurt my right hand,” she said. The waiter bowed. “That is perfectly all right, Mrs. Carey. I know who you are and will explain the writing to the cashier." Another crisis had passed. Perhaps it would have an aftermath, but already she saw a way out of any futt*s difficulty. Hus vfcr day she would men-

—By Williams

tion to Dean that something was wrong with her right hand, which made it impossible for her to do any writing with it. One could so easily sprain a wrist, or ond could have a touch of rheumatism. As she passed down the steps that led to the lounge, a man who sat before one of these tiny tables on which tea is sometimes served in the afternoon stared at her. He had that actor’s look which is unmistakable. Here was a “hoofer.” The too wide trousers, the too short jacket, the too sleek hair; all these identified him. a a a “VITELL, if it ain't little Brown, ’ the touch-me-not kid from the sticks!” There was genuine admiration in his voice. “The minute I lamped you,” he went on, “I said to myself that here was a doll that could cop herself a heavy sugar papa if she lifted a finger.” .He had seized Cynthia’s hand now. She withdrew her fingers from her fervent clasp. ‘l’m sorry, but I don't think I know you,” she said. She tried to bring puzzled amazement into her eyes, but the man had caught the first glance of frightened recognition that she had given him. For she knew him instantly. A chorus man in Zogbaum’s show, he also acted as stage manager, that overworked and despised personage who neverthless is important in the production of a play. He grinned knowingly at her. “Don’t try that stall on little Bennie Thompson,” he laughed. “Don’t know me? Well, I know you. Zoggie opens his new theater and his new show, and the niftiest little lady in the whole chorus don’t show up the second night! “And you think that Bennie doesn’t know a doll that’ll pull a stunt like that. With every cornfed chicken in the country cluttering up Zoggie’s office trying to win herself a front-row job, it ain’t likely I’d forget a girl that stepped out on the first night.” “Nevertheless, you’ve made a mistake,” stammered Cynthia. “So did Tunney when he took on Dempsey, but you’ll notice that Tunney is champion,” jeered Thompson. “Don’t give me the Park avenue, kid. Why, I been highhatted by sweller dames than j’ou, baby. And those same gals have come dancing around to Bennie later on, trying to get me to use my pull to get them back in the show.” She walked past him without a word. Bennie Thompson stepped after her. She was very beautiful, and while, during the long weeks of rehearsal she had seemed unapproachable, her disappearance from the show and her reappearance, richly clad in the Ritz today, could mean only one thing. High hats could be caved in by a determined assault. And Bennie Thompson knew all the intricacies of blackmail. (To Be Continued.)

THE SON OF TARZAN

From the shadows of a tent Meriem and Baynes each gave a gasp of horror. They had come at the very moment the elephant rescued Korak. Quickly it had all happened and now bedlam reigned throughout the village. Men, women ancl children ran. helter skelter for safety. Curs, fled, yelping. The horses, camels and donkeys, terrorized at the trumpeting of thfe pachyderm, kicked and pulled at their tethers, or more broke loose.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

- ■ ; X ( TMIS ? <M,\ COT OOT AU. "TH WE SORE YEAH* WEU.,I WAS VTS 60S AS VOtU. VKTOWE.S A' ruPV TH' USAS AW SET To 60 COES. THAT Yoo OvOWT PAPERS, AOOOT Y<X> WHIN VOO OT ,6TE ~ A’ TtU. *IM A'VHINS COME —WE WAS WtSE VSVAiAPEO, m‘ PAWED 'EM HE WAS OR. TWO —~E*>T, 1 SO TOO6H , VOO W TWS aocv. ! SAT ,TEU. HE— KSVCE TO SOST CO OLDWIT 6ET WOULDN'T HAUE THAT 'CEMTVEMAM SACK** ME AWAY I HAO A CHANCE m m. ... .ww p] I I t

OH OOtONO ! \Y- X j fcUV.YOOC' WEOER. fAW -THAT W©UU>WT j SAT/MO OWE fcOER. 6ET 'EH OOWW HAME 60T WEAVE 'IM ! HAWE STOPPEO ME ! j WOOEO’uE KNOW** WHERE T. CAW SYV J WHY/HE HAO SOWS VOO Oon’T KNOW E VOO WHEW THAT ON'EM , THEY ] 6N.ORE —AW’cOOIO ME , | : j; EASY 60T TWROO6H .i.a.lump

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

WASHINGTON TUEBS II

■ JL / HO, PRICELESS OME\ f ( GEE, 1 GET SO LONESOME V* JgaK, NOS HWE tAt WTU ONLY YOU, MARGA. T \ STEw \ TvIO FOREIGN KEEP WONDERING WHY VdAYH ) called. MO easy ,LVf Effort FOR. MART, SUE IS 6|c~X| 0 A \ 3THER PART OF THE EMPEROR’S / \ ib’VftV cu costumes by tue fflgffli / V*\

SALESMAN SAM

(We. somel OF OH-o’. übr.6. cokes ome-Me.viuv-VJe.os im THIS KP-S, ARKS , wee. susve. .111, .TO

MOM’N POP

r l KNOW t BORROWED YOU OWE ME VET f VLL GIVE YOU fTYIOU-VtlL \/e>IGAGC?>T\ FIVE DOLLARS ON IT JAKE. \ YON DOLLAR ON DO ANYTHING YOU SAY-VVE / V ni \ * AfU ) BUT VLL GIVE YOU A DOLLAR J DAT ALARM CLOCK. GOT TO HAVE THAT PIN,JAKE. I ,/YT/i j J NOW AND A DOLLAR A / HOW DO V KNOW I’M-VM-ENGAGED TO A H LOUIE.. J

The galloping horses gave Meriem an idea. Motioning Baynes to follow she led him to the far end of the village. Here she knew were kept always ready for use a few of the camp’s fleetest steeds. Luck was with them, for they flung themselves into the saddles without hindrance. The shortest path to freedom led straight through the center of Ithe village and this Meriem took, Baynes close behind her, their horses running at full speed.

—By Martin

I OH. I HAD SUCH (ATIKe SQose.-2.IMG- . %, 1.3 q our of kv wevi husband for. \ ¥2?= groceries-we got mao but l OiOm'T J WS£ W ueftO (XT

68 CawrMX. ■ AS rtha wwrwd.

So sudden and impetuous was their dash for escape that it carried them half-way across the village before the surprised inhabitants were aware of what was happening. Then an Arab recognized them and with a cry of alarm, fired a rifle. The shot was a signal for a volley. Amid the rattle of musketry, Meriem and Baynes leaped their flying mounts through the breach in the palisade and were gone up the well-wom trail toward the north. \

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

B aAt WaccoßPlAio -To 'l tog* riAv/g -so L j VoU, ALL Vodß tigV'-f' J>IAL POUJM -Tb M ARE WA*il' >'njAlE- lAj UlrfM Si CLEAR LlOlfeS -lIM < v/Cllß U*JK OlTf OF A 5 A<3£ U IF A&'S A ’ \ROVAL-tbUMP£.-r 4AaJP<5' | KJose,-Tell A— uJMile we’re .15 /l tflM-TO LCWJER ]( 3uSTBLA-t^ - A 1 ftT SEA oirr 6F Atd fiijour/L wrfH ouR iL/

u3km

r{ NW, MISTRESS, OFTEN UJVTH MY OWN EYES I HAVE Y (ALL MEN ARE DECEIVERS, MISTRESS. ( SEEN THEM IN SPLENDID UNIFORMS, SIPPING WINE/.4 IS WRITTEN THAT A MAN’S MEMORY OF l AND EN-JOYINGTHEGAY COMPANY OF A MMO IS SUORT WHEN UE ISJN THE. beautiful dancing GIRLS.;/ but cm \ arias of another, thou art wise, a®' # v > A SURE THEY \ o CHARMING ONE, TO QUICKLY FORGET y-y j / like me. oh, \ those who have so soon become I OF ALL CUCUMBRIAj/ SSSrSct tecs® ~ PPP* game', ues trying to make mary rags*/ Ysw W believe that wash and easy are a W/— ° iaJOBT "CAStßviccif-c COUPLE OF BUMS.

S~ S ( ' X TELL VOO>\ £ * * ( * CCVt / X V MAKE oGt APARErA I rC Vn Q rH,SELrI- IneL ( YOU SIGN, AND IF \ V .? U , P . l YOU DON’T T>AY_ME J HOL^

N'ouAieße CAm (AMD couuecTeo 1 1 ... we 1) . put

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

And Korak? Tan tor carried him deep into the jungle. When no sound came from the distant village, the elephant laid his burden gently down. Korak struggled to free himself from his bonds, but even his giant strength was unable to move the strands of hard-knotted cord. While he lay there, working and resting by turns, the elephant stood guard above him. Dawn came and still Korak was no nearer freedom than before. Was he to die fcjhirst and hunger?

.JUNE 26, 1930

—By Ahem

—By Blosser;

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan