Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 45, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 July 1930 — Page 14

PAGE 14

OUT OUR WAY

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SYNOPSIS Cvnthia Brown balk'd thf blackmailer 1n the end and eot rid of him and then took her modest belonamas to the Pennsylvania station and checked everythin? she had that belonged to her as Cvnthia Brown and returned to Carey's house where she e.zaln took up her life as the unsuspected double of Eleanor Carey, recent bride. She waited hourly for a telephone mesrace from the runaway brlle whose Identity she had assumed and who had vanished vtth a former suitor, who had tried to kill himself on the wedding dav. Carey, who liad entered Into a pact not to approach her affect’onatelv until she had learned to love him. while examining her hand for a suspected bruise, looked at her so suspiciously when they were on their wav to dine with Eleanor's father that Cvnthia was for the moment deeply alarmed. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE “'T'HE matter? Is it strange that J. a wife asks her husband not to quarrel?" ••You're not a wife, and I’m not a husband." he replied. ‘ Let's not drag that farce into this.” "But we agreed, for three months ” He interrupted her. “And suppose that I don't choose to keep my agreement? Suppose that I make up my mind, long before three months are up, that I won't wait?" “What do you mean?" she asked. There was fright in her tones. “I mean that I may decide that I don't want you, never will want you." “But even such a decision needn't force you to be rude.” He relaxed now, leaning back against the cushions. He shook his head as though bewildered. “I never thought I'd hear you talk this way." he said. “What do you mean?" she repeated her question of a moment ago, and once again their was fright in her voice. “You don t seem yourself.” “I'm quarrelsome, you think?” “Well. yes. At least, as long as I've known you. you've never shirked a quarrel. Have you forgotten how many times you were angry with me before we were married?” She essayed lightness: “Doesn't the man always blame the woman?" “I don't mean to be unohivalrcus. But at least there can be between us common honesty." “All right. I won't be angry now.” “Thats just it. You seem so—different.” he told her. “Because I'm amiable?" She tried hard to keep the quaver from her voice. He shook his head again. “Not that. I don't mean to be rude. But just now. when you asked me not to quarrel, you seemed so strange—almost as though another woman were in the car." "Well, if you look closely at. me,” she daringly answered, “you'll see that there's been no change." Now now. I don’t mean— I don’t know just what I do mean. It isn't that you seem to have changed just now. It's as though you became somehow different —some time ago. but that I just realised it now.” That danger which she had felt was on the running board was now well inside the car. Something in her voice, or manner, or being, had finally broken through his blindness. It was as though levees had held back to current of truth and that now there had been a leak in the dam. But leaks, if taken in time, may be checked. “The longer we know people the more different they become. You aren't any one that I knew a month ago," she said. HUB THE daring of her double entendre steadied her nerves. She was. it seemed to her, one of those persons whom inaction dulls. This afternoon, confronting Bennie Thompson, her wit had been quick and keen. Now the very elasticity of the thin Ice beneath her brought her a certain mental agility. Years ago, in Ohio, she had watched daring little Hoys skate “tidd!?dies” on the skim ice of the pond, throug.i which one would break if one stood still, but which, bending and yielding and apparently stretching, would support one at full speed. She seemed to be now one of those juvenile skaters, and the more dangerous her position the safer she felt It was only when danger was unexpected that she feared it. “I suppose that's it,” Dean replied. The edge had left his voice. How could Dean have any definite suspicion? Bewilderment only would be in his mind unless—or until—something hapened to replace bewilderment. But it was as well to meet that bewilderment and dissipate it as often as it appeared.

“Then we won't quarrel?” she pleaded. He shook his head, as though too tired to make verbal response. She had made it harder for him by refusing to quarrel, but she was afraid that if altercation arose between this man and herself she would be unable to keep up her imposture. Each hurt expression of his harrowed her. If he perhaps thrilled j to the touch of her fingers, how i much more she thrilled at contact! with him! Yet she hurt and deceived him each time they spoke together, and that he was conscious only of the first did nothing to redeem the injury of the latter. There was something mistily soft in her eyes as Tom Sanver greeted her. There were other people in the drawing room, a young couple whom she did not recognize, and also the Curwoods. Tessie waved a jeweled hand in gay greeting, and rushed up to Dean, cooing and fluttering in spurious imitation of the frightened dove she always professed to be.

Curvood called a salutation to her. and the young couple both smiled a welcome. But Tom Sanver pulled her, with affectionate roughness to one side. “Shut your eyes," he ordered. “Hold up your hand.” She did as he commanded and felt something being snapped about her wrist. “Now look,” said Sanver. She had, of cuorse. inherited temporarily Eleanor’s jewels. But this solid mass of blazing diamonds was more magnificent than anything in Eleanor's ample assortment. “Forgiven? Forgotten that old Daddy Tom was ever impertinent?” b b u CYNTHIA could feel the tears, no longer a faint mist, but rising tide, in her eyes now. Forgive him for trying to settle the bewildering diffiiculty between Dean and her? This man, whose only object in ife was his daughter’s happiness *nd yet who had wrecked that happiness by his own interference. was as dear to her as her own father had ever been. “Os course, you are. and of course I've forgotten,” she assured him. Impulsively she held up her mouth. A look of puzzlement spread itself over his face: his brows wrinkled, his lips pursed as though he were about to whistle. “Have you forgotten?” he asked. "What?” she asked. Again she felt that danger was right beside her. “How do you always thank me for a present?” he asked. “You don’t mean to tell me ” “You've been a bad Daddy Tom. and you will have to beg.’ She assumed a pout. Sanver held one cheek to her Ups and then the other. Then he kissed her on each cheek before kissing her on the lips. “Don't you ever pretend to forget again.” he chided her. How many other rituals had been observed between Tom Sanver and his daughter, and how many times would she be able to extricate herself as well as she had done just now? There wouldn’t always be an excuse for a pouting pretense at ill temper to carry her through a difficulty. Still, another situation had been met and conquered. She could wait for the next one. Or perhaps it would be as well to anticipate danger.

CLINGING with daughterly affection to Eleanor's father, she whispered to him, “Why did you ask them?” she nodded toward the other guests. “Who? The Curwoods?” Sanver was visibly surprised. “No.” she replied. Sanver fell into the trap of whose existence he was not aware. | i ' The Ordeleys?” She nodded, hiding the triumph ' in her eyes. Sanver frowned. “I thought you liked them.” “I do.” she mendaciously asserted. “But the Curwoods and I they ” “They seem to be getting along finely.” said Sanver. “I was just afraid that maybe i they wouldn't mix well.” “its your old father's fault,” i Sanver accused himself. “I’ve got I you all upset ” , She kissed him again, whispering endearments for whose utterance she hated, herself, yet which she

—By 'Williams

would not have withdrawn. For the old gentleman preened himself beneath her affection. Gently she released herself from Tom Sanver's grasp and greeted the others. The Curwoods she knew and she had gauged correctly, she felt, the degree of intimacy between them and Eleanor. But she didn't know how well the Ordeleys had known the girl whose name and place she had usurped. 808 BUT Mrs. Orderley soon indicated the degree of friendship .hat had existed. By the time crvktails and caviar had been served, the babbling tongue of the pretty young matron had informed Cynthia that Eleanor and Lucia Orderley had known each other since childhood, but that Ralph Orderley was a recent acquisition from the middle west and that Eleanor had met him perhaps half a dozen times. She elicted this information without much trouble and put only a few leading questions, none of which surprised Mrs. Orderley. “Let's have coffee with the ladies,” Sanver suggested at the end of dinner. “Better hurry or well be late to the theater,” said Cynthia. “Not going. Hope you don't mind, Eleanor.” said Sanver. “I •told Dean we’d probably go, but I haven’t played bridge for weeks. All right?” “Love to,” said Cynthia. “Dean and I will challenge any one here.” The words were hardly uttered when she knew that she had made a mistake. “You and Dean?” ejaculated Curwood. “When did the great barrister turn his legal mind to bridge?” Cynthia did not look at Carey; nevertheless she felt his glance and seemed to feel, for the third time this evening, the lurking presence of danger. “Did I say Dean?” she turned laughingly to Carey. “That’s a good omen for you. Your name on every one’s tongue, even on mine as a bridge player.” “Omen?” laughed young Ordeley. “I suppose you think the whole city is like that and the state too. Lucky man,” he said to Dean. “Lucia used to be that way about me. If someone said bank president, she’d fill in my name before he could finish the sentence. And I'm still a clerk.” Sanver's laugh filled the room. “Only a clerk. Poor young fellow! Owns three-fourths of the stock and pities himself. But whom did you mean. Eleanor?” Who else but you?” she retorted. “Well. Dean sits out,” said Sanver, “and Rannie and Tessie are going on.” “To the Ripleys’ box at the opera,” explained Curwood. “But we’re to meet later at the Venetia, eh?” (To Bfe Continued) Aged Woman Dies Bu Time* Snrrinl CRAWFORDSVILLE. Ind., July 2.—Funeral services will be held Thursday for Mrs. Lydia Williams, 69. who died of apoplexy Monday at the home of her son, G. D. Connor. three miles north of here.

THE SON OF TARZAN

Never in all his savage existence had Korak suffered such blighting terror—never before had he known what terror meant! Meriem might reach the trees before Tantor overtook her, but even her agility would not carry her beyond the reach of that relentless trunk—she would be dragged down and tossed . , . What was that? . . . Korak’s eyes started from their sockets! A strange figure had leaped from the tree which Meriem had almost reached,

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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It was a white man, a giant in build, leaping bej-ond the girl straight into the path of the charging elephant ! He was unarmed, recklessly facing what seemed to be certain deatix. With one hand raised he faced the maddened Tantor. A sharp command broke from the stranger’s lips. The great beast halted in his tracks. Meriem meanwhile had swung herself upward into the tree to safety. Korak breathed ft sigh of relief not unmixed vph wonder.

—By Martin

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Then as he looked at Meriem’s deliverer and recognition slowly dawned upon him, Korak’s eyes went wide with incredulity and surprise. Tantor, rumbling angrily, swayed to and fro before the giant white man, who now stepped straight beneath the upraised trunk and spoke a low word of command. The savage look died from the elephant’s eyes, and as the man went toward Korak, Tantor trailed docilely at his heels. Meriem was watching, too, and wondering. Y '

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Suddenly the man turned and she saw his face! With a startled cry, “Bwana!” the girl dropped and ran to his side nor did the elephant attempt to molest her. Together the three went to the helpless Korak. He lay there with a pathetic appeal for forgiveness in his eyes. “Jack, my son!” cried the white giant kneeling at the ape-man’s side. “Father!” came chokingly from the Killer s Ups. “Thank heaven it was you. No one else could Lava stopped Tantor." it

JULY 2, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan