Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 107, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 September 1930 — Page 24

PAGE 24

OUT OUR WAY

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CHAPTER FORTY “T LIKE that,” said Dan A “And thcres a companion one,” Mans said. “Safe upon the solid rock the the ugly houses stand; Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!” ‘1 like both of them,” Dan said, with a smile. “They're comforting philosophy for the morning after.” Maris laughed. “I didn't know you took them with aspirin.” “Aspirin doesn't always work.” “And does philosophy?” Maris turned smiling ej'es to him, and Dan smiled into them with his own and then bent and kissed her. She did not try to avoid it, but she said after a silent moment, “I didn't expect that.” And Dan tightened his arm around her. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don't see how I could help it.” Maris was silent. They lingered there for some minutes longer, but she presently reminded him of the time and he drove her home. There he would have kissed her good night, but she protested. "No. Dan.'' So he shook hands with her instead, although he did feel that her objection might not have been a serious one. They parted with the understanding that they would go horseback riding the following Sunday morning. Another week passed, and part of another. Dan was keeping very busy, and, as Collier had predicted, he continued to learn things from working with Garry Sloan. But there were times that he found it difficult to keep from becoming a little irritable in the face of some of the director’s demands. A feeling somewhat akin to humility saved him from it—a recognition of the other’s superior knowledge and of his unquestioned authority. He often sat in the projection room and watched the famous director, and no one viewed the rushes with as jealous or critical an eye as Sloan, as the result of which he was ruthless in ordering retakes. And frequently these necessitated a change here and there in an actor’s lines—a word or two to catch a laugh, or the building up of a situation that seemed to him not quite satisfactory.

Bfl UT Rorimer gave him his best and he managed to be cheerful about it. When she was not in front of the camera herself, Anne Winter often lingered on the stage to watch the others, and she sometimes sat beside Dan Rorimer ahd talked with him in a low voice as Sloan rehearsed a scene. She ate luncheon with him frequently, too, although usually there were others with them. Anne seemed especially eager to be friendly to him. Once as they sat together watching the taking of “stills,” Dan saw Garry Sloan look their way and frown and turn away, add Rorimer sensed that there might be something there that the director did not altogether approve. And he wondered what it might be. His first thought was that the sound of their voices might have disturbed the man, but he remarked then that others about them were talking and laughingsome of them rather loudly—and he concluded that he was quick to imagine things. Those who worked with Sloan were at high tension; it was easy lor them to be “jumpy.” But later an unwelcome recollection came to mind—the bit of gossip he had overheard at the tea with Maris Farrell, linking Sloan's name with Anne’s. And still later he recalled a story- Paul Collier had told him; and once recalled it was hard to put from him. Collier had told him a story about Sloan and a certain star whose name and his had been coupled a great deal in the days before he had made Slyvia Patterson famous. g And it concerned a young actor from New York, a handsome youth with no stage or screen experience whatever, who had been “discovered” by someone from Hollywood who was struck with his facial beauty. "It was Just one of those things,” Collier related. “They gave him a screen test—this was before the days of sound—and then they Viipped him out to Hollywood and gave him one of those great lover parts opposite Lola. And young

Roelif made a go of it, too; hei wasn’t bad; everybody said that the kid was bound for a big success. “And Sloan cast him in another picture with her; and then one night Garry saw him making love to Lola—and everything was off right away. Roelif was making a thousand dollars a week at the time, and since then I don’t believe he's worked in a picture.” No one, Collier said, seemed to know exactly what had happened. “A lot of funny things happen in this village, Dan.” The fact remained, though, that Sloan had been offended, and Sloan had influence in Hollywood. tt tt n ONE didn't take stories like this too seriously, Dan thought; nevertheless, there might be wisdom in being careful not to give the man cause for offense, especially during production of a picture that might mean everything to Anne Winter and a great deal to himself. But it was not on his owm account that he felt any concern; he owed nothing to Sloan’s good will, he figured, and he felt there was little that a man's whim could do to him to cause him to lose any sleep. Anne, though, was different. Anne Winter might some day be a star if the fates were kind enough, and no one could do more for her than Garry Sloan. He wondered then if the director really had become “interested” in Anne Winter, as gossip had hinted. And he wondered, with a touch of jealousy and resentment of Sloan's power, what Anne might think of it. He watched Sloan now as he hunched forward in his chair, frowningly intent on Anne and Lester Moore in a scene. The two were sitting at a restaurant table and Moore, as Michael, the dapper, handsome gangster, was brazenly holding her hand, contemptuously unmindful of the other diners about them. Dan smiled. Moore was good—very good. He was boastful, swaggering and tough. Michael was back j from the war, unreformed, con- ; scienceless, and scheming as ever; | and his “girl” was a little fearful for him and afraid of him. The scene ended. Sloan nodded and sat back in his chair. He j called Anne over to him and she sat beside him and listened while j he talked in a low voice, and Dan I got up and strolled outside. At the door he ran into Phillips, bound for one of the other stages. Phillips stopped for a moment to ask a question. “Sloan shooting tonight?” Dan shook his head. “Not unless jhe changes his mind. Anne Winter said he wanted to rehearse her a little bit, though. She's got a tough scene tomorrow.”

Phillips nodded. He asked Dan what he thought of Garry Sloan by this time. "He’s great.” Dan said. “He's some director.” The other chuckled and said, ■'He’ll do till the next one comes along, I guess,” and he raised his hand and passed on. Dan wandered back to the set. The thing that Anne was to do on the morrow was something that the manuscript had not called for in its original version. When Michael was shot, Rorimer had represented the grief of Jenny, his “girl,” as dry-eyed and stunned and inarticulate. Sloan had changed that. It was not emotional enough to suit him. As it was now written, Anne was called upon to sob and shed tears over the loss of her sweetheart. “We want to create more pity for her.” Sloan had said. “I want you to turn it on, Anne—all the way.” ana ANNE had agreed with him that the scene would be a “bigger” one that way, but she was a little afraid of it. She told Mona: “I’ll never please him—never.” Sloan was'discussing it with her now. explaining just what he expected her to do. And he said he had changed his mind about keeping her late and having her go through it. "You know what I want, Anne. You can save it all for tomorrow. Can’t we have dinner somewhere instead? We can go to some nice cool place and talk things over.” And Anne nodded. That would tje much better, she said. “I'm glad you're riot going to make the work this eveping. I've a headache; I'm afraid Fd be terrible." Sloan (laughed. “I’m not worried about you, Anne. I'm sorry about

—By Williams

I your headache, Maybe a little ride, and dinner, will chase it away.” He let her go then and turned his attention to the scene that was awaiting his direction, and Anne moved off toward her dressing room. Rorimer, sitting off to one side, saw her coming toward him, and he smiled and asked how she was feeling. “Ready to knock ’em dead?” “I feel,” Anne replied, “as if I'm waiting for the executioner to come and take me away. Do you know how that feels?” Dan nodded. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve got an imagination. Rehearsing tonight?” “No. I've been given the customary privilege of selecting what I want for my meal.” She laughed. “That’s kind, isn’t it?” “Very,” Dan said, and Anne waved to him and went her way. Sloan was ready by the time she had removed her makeup and changed her costume. She found him waiting outside. “There you are,” he said, his eyes showing approval of her dress. “How’s the headache?” “Better. I think the thought of the reprieve cured it.” “I do have my humane moments. ! Where shall we eat? Feel hungry | yet?” “Not very.” j “Well, we’ll see if a little drive I won’t work up an appetite.” He i helped her into his car. climbed in | beside her and told her to rest. Anne was tired, and to lie back 1 with the wind fanning her cheeks : was restful. He took her, after a | long drive, to a quiet little inn i where their waiter bowed deeply and called him by name, j Sloan ordered discrirninately fer ! her, and he gave explicit instruc- | tions to the waiter concerning the preparation of a salad. Anne thought it delicious. “Is it your own idea?” “Part of it.” Throughout the dinner he chatted agreeably about things that Anne was interested in. But afterward, while he lingered over his coffee and cigar, he became silent and | thoughtful. He said presently. “I j was wondering about you, Anne.” j “You were?” He nodded slowly and knocked j the ash from his cigar. “I was | wondering if you’ve ever been in ; love.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE SHE smiled at him. “Do you think I have?” And Sloan raised his eyes and looked at her thoughtfully. He said, “No, I don't.” Anne laughed, and she let her eyes drop to evade the look in his own. There was a bold searchingness in them that made her feel that her secrets would not be safe from them. She said, “How do you tell—or are just guessing?” Sloan chuckled and gave the waiter a bill. “It's something more than a guess. One of the requirements of a director is clairvoyance, you know-. . . . Shall we go?” He gestured to the waiter that he did not expect any change. (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

It was mid-afternoon of a sultry, tropical day when the keen senses of the three w arned them of the proximity of the Arab camp. Stealthily they approached, keeping to the dense tangle of growing things which made concealment easy to their uncanny jungle craft. First came the giant ape-man, his smooth, brown skin glistening with the sweat of exertion in the close, hot confines offVtac jungle. Behind him crept Chulk and Taglat, gicterquc and Jttaggy.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS*'

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

Silently they made their way to the edges of the clearing which surrounded the palisade, and here they clambered into the lower branches of a large tree overlooking the village occupied by the enemy, the better to spy upon his goings and comings. A horseman, white bumoosed, rode out through the gateway of the village. Tarzan, whispering to Chulk and Taglat to remain where they were, swung monkey-like through the trees in the direction of the trail the Arab was riding.

—By Martin

From one Jungle giant to the next he sped with the rapidity of a squirrel and the silence of a ghost. The Arab rode slowly onward, unconscious of the danger hovering in the trees behind him. The ape-man made a slight detour and increased his speed until he had reached a point on the trail in advance of the horseman. Here he halted upon a leafy bough which overhung the narAw jungle trail. On came the victim, humming A wild air of the great desert land of the north.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Above him poised the savage brute that was today bent upon the destruction of a human life—the same creature who, a few months before, had occupied his seat in the house of lords at London, a respected and distinguished member of that august body. The Arab passed beneath the overhanging bough, there was a slight rustling of the leaves above, the horse snorted and plunged as a brown-skinned creature dropped Upon it. A pair of mighty arms encircled tii Arab and he was dragged from his saddle. •

.SEPT. 12,1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan