Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 137, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 October 1930 — Page 18

PAGE 18

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BEG rv HERE TODAY . x A<J-*ntur* enters the life of CELIA MITCHELL. 17. when she learns the father *he has supposed dead is alive anrt wealthv. She leaves hr nnpre•er'louf home In BalUmore to live in New York with her father. JOHN vfHCHELL. and her aristocratic grandROGERS. Celia's mother, now Is a widow, having divorced Mitchell and !efr remarried. BARNEY SHIELDS. vour.E newspaper photographer, U In iove with the girl and before leaving Baltimore Celia promised to be loyal to his Joys, Mitchell asks EVELYN PARSONS, beautiful widow, to introduce the girl <o vaung peon!* Mrs. Parsons agrer, considering Celia a means to win Mitchell's affections though she Is Jealous and at once begins scheming tp get, r and of the girl. She Introduces Celia to TOD JORDAN, fascinating but of dubious character, and does all she can to encourage the match. . . . MSI DUNCAN, sociallv prominent, be. cornea Oita’s loyal friend. Mitche.l learns Jordan is paving his daughter attentions and forbids her to s*e him. Celia offends her grandmother and the elderly Mrs. Mitchell feigns Illness and d-parts for a rest The girl goes to Mrs. Parsons’ Long island home for a lengthy visit Thera Jordan call* frequently. H and Celia go on a picnic with List end DICKY CARDTHERS. Before they return Mi'chell arrives and Mrs. Par-:.-ms belie-es he Is about to propose. NOW GO ON WITH THE STOP Y

CHAPTER. THIRTY <Continued.) Celia wore her favorite yellow tennis dress, a red and orange scarf about her curls, bandanna fashion. She and Jordan rode in the rumble teat. List drove the car, her precious Dicky at her side. "Where are we going?” Celia asked "Don’t know. Some place Lisl likes Lord—-sun’s hot, isn’t it?” "T don’t, mind ” Celia snuggled down In the seat ; and covered Jordan's hand with j hers The man frowned, looked bored, but let it remain there. Celia chattered about the landscape as they sailed by. List Duncan drove without regard of speed laws. Even her split-hair curves had little effect on Jordan’s lethargy. Once or twice he suppressed a yawn. They reached the picnic site, a wooded hill overlooking a wide valley The hill was cushioned underfoot with grass. Purple morning glories and brown-eyed Susans grew abundantly. Lisi pointed out a spring where they could obtain frtsh water. “Very pastoral!” Jordan commented. "Sorry, Llsi, but I’m not the rustic type." Dicky Caruthers declared here at last was "real living.” He was enthusiastic and so was Celia- They explored a while, then set to work spreading out the supper, Lisi insisted they must build a smudge to ward off mosquitoes. Celia passed sandwiches and poured coffee from the thermos bottle Dicky, not to be suppressed, talked about the new play. His part was not enlarged, but he was to wear a costume, which reconciled him. The lunch was excellent—because, as List said, she had had nothing to do with it and bought it all at a delicatessen shop. When the last crumb of cake had disappeared they burned the papers and packages Celia, and Jordan wandered up tht hill to look at the sunset. The tnan’s mood had improved. "Like this kid stuff—picnics," he said "don’t you, honey?” "Love ’em.” • "And somebody loves you, too!” They rejoined Lisi and Caruthers. Dusk had fallen when the quartet started homeward. Gradually the sky darkened. The night wind whipped against their cheeks, caught Celia's curls from under her scarf and blew them wildly. Jordan drew the girl nearer Now, alone together, he was again the ardent lover. It was wonderful riding through the darkness, but Celia's wits were at work. How was she to avoid a clash with her father? Mitchell must not see Tod Jordan. She would haye to find a way to dismiss Tod. Possibly her father would have returned to town No, that was not likely. They had nearly reached Larchwood now. Celia would have been amazed at the scene on the veranda there. Evelyn, pale and lovely, in the moonlight, leaned against a pillar. John Mitchell stood beside her. He bent his head, his eyes meeting her earnestly. "Evelyn,” John Mitchell’s voice came unsteadily, "you know what I’ve been wanting to tell you!” CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE IT was a, magic moment. Evelyn Parsons stood with her face half averted from Mitchell. In the white moonlight she seemed like a goddess—unearthly and unattainable Not by the slightest movement did Evelyn betray her quickening pulse, Mitchell hesitated as though shocked at his own daring Slowly she turned her head, raising her eyes to meet his. This was no goddess! Evelyn’s gaze held* tenderness, warmth and the suggestion of veiled mystery. "I wonder,” she said softly, “if I do know, John?” Oh, Evelyn—you're so beautiful!” The man’s voice was choking with emotion. Mrs. Parsons did not smile Had she overplayed that moment of delay? Surely not. In another instant John Mitchell was going to ask her to be his wife. He took both her hands in his. Mitchell's eves were earnest, anxious You must have known how I feel about- you,” he said “You’ve been so helpful, so understanding! Eve-

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lyo, you’re wonderful! You’re the one woman ” The sentence never was finished. Someone was coming through the living room and at the sound of footsteps both Mitchell and Mrs. Parsons turned. “Oh, here you are!” Celia Mitchell stood In the open French window, the light from the room beyond throwing her slim figure into silhouette. "It’s too perfect to be lndcrers, isn’t it?” She stepped out on the porch and came to join them. Celia apologized to her father for being absent when he arrived. She chattered about the picnic, hoping to forestall questioning. No one appeared interested. Mrs. Parsons, after the first startled glance at the girl, was unusually silent. Mitchell, looking embarrassed, listened to Celia and now and then made obvious attempts at conversation. Presently Evelyn Parsons excused herself and went into the house. Not for another moment could she contain her anger. Evelyn mounted the stairs, hurried to her room and closed the door behind her. She stood leaning against it, hands clenchsd and her body quivering. Evelyn’s eyes were closed, her mouth a cruel, sliver of crimson. "Oh!” she gasped. “Oh !” Suddenly the woman was a tornado of energy. She picked up a book, the first object to touch her hand, and hurled it across the room. Papers, magazines, a cigaret case were next. When the room looked as though a windstorm had struck it, Evelyn flung herself in a chair. Her face was white and distorted. One white satin toe tapped the floor furiously. ana GRADUALLY she became quieter. Blind anger gave way,to an expression of grim deliberation. Evelyn's eyes narrowed. Nothing had been lost and on the whole she might gain from the situation. Temporary obstacles often increased a man’s ardor. Hadn’t she played that game frequently? She moved to her dressing table and began working with cosmetics as she framed a course of action. In a few moments traces of the tempestuous outburst likd been removed. A subtie touch of eye-shadow made her eyes more brilliant and gave them a hint of wistfulness. She drew fresh lips with a. stick of carmine, dusted her face and shoulders with fragrant powder. Under lamplight, these restoratives would pass unnoticed. The action soothed Evelyn as nothing else could have done. When she had finished she surveyed herself with satisfaction. Like other vain women, Evelyn Parsons felt fortified by her beauty and thought no man could resist it. She would make Mitchell ask her to marry him tomorrow. Oh, yes, she could do that! It had been exasperating to have the goal within reach and then rudely snatched away* but there would be ho such slip tomorrow. Back in Evelyn Parsons’ mind w’as the thought that Celia would pay for this interference. Anyone who interfered with the widow's plans was quite likely to pay. She was singing softly the refrain of an English ballad as she returned to the porch. It was a sbng Evelyn had heard Mitchell say he was fond of. “Hilda’s bringing something cool to drink,” she said. i‘l thought it would be refreshing.” "Isn’t Evelyn the perfect hostess, father?” Celia said. "She never forgets anything.” “You’re quite, right.” Mitchell agreed His eyes swept Mrs Parsons as she sank gracefully into a wicker chair. She had chosen a seat where the path of light from the living room touched her hair and made it a golden halo. The maid appeared bringing a tray of tall glasses and pitcher in which ice clinked invitingly. She served the beverage, then withdrew. "You don’t know how often I think of this porch afternoons and evenings when I’m in town,” Mitchell spoke up. “It’s a great place you’ve got here, Evelyn.” "Celia and I live out here. Don’t we. dear?” "Almost. Here and in the garden.” “A man’s a fool to tie himself down in a city all his life!” John Mitchell said this*as though he were arguing with himself. He balanced his glass absent mindedly and the fragile crystal was in imminent peril. He remembered just in time. "I don't think you ought to stay in town during this hot weather,” Celia said firmly. "Oh—Utterly impossible to get away—now. Besides,' see how I impose on Mrs Parsons* hospitality!” "You know.- you could never do that, John.” Evelyn spoke in a low tone. She gave Mitchell a | quick glance, then her eyes turned : away. For nearly an hour the three sat enjoying the breeze and the fantastic pattern of light and shadows woven on the moonlit lawn.

Then Mitchell said it was time for him to go. He was spending the night at the country club and promised to rejoin them next day after his morning -—aid of golf. ana HE departed. Celia paused long enough in the upstairs hallway before going to her room to say to Mrs. Parsons: "You looked perfectly beautiful tdnight. Evelyn! I thought at first you’d done your hair a different way, but it isn’t that. I guess it’s just because you really are beautiful!” "Silly child. Tell me about the picnic.” ’Tt was fun. Listen. Evelyn, do you think you’ll be-*able to talk to father tomorrow about Tod? I mean about getting him to change his opinion of him? It sort of bothers me. I can’t help but worry—” Sheer inspiration prompted Evelyn Parsons. An eager light came into her eyes. “I’ll do what I can, Celia,” she said. “And I’m sure I can’t fail. Let’s see—the thing is to manage this the right way.” She studied silently a moment. “I know!” she continued, "well pretend you have an errand tomorrow afternoon after luncheon. You can take the car and stay away a long time—two hours at least! "That will give me a chance to have the sort of talk with your father where I can lead up to the subject. Don’t you see? First I’ll talk about how popular you are at the club and how everyone likes you. That will be sure to start him on his plans for your future. "From that it will be no trick at all for me to mention Tod and what a splendid young man he is.” "Oh, Evelyn!” The girl was delighted. "That’s how we’ll manage it. Now remember, y-ir part is to go for a long drive that will give me plenty of time—” "I’ll time myself,” Celia assured her. “I’ll give you hours! Good night, Evelyn.” "Good night, dear!” As Evelyn Parsons closed the door of her room she was convinced that fate was her ally. a a a CELIA was trying to learn tennis. The. game fascinated her, and Lisi Duncan, who played expertly, had volunteered some instruction. Celia was too shy to expose her feeble efforts on the courts at the club, but she could bounce balls against the backstops on the court at Larchwood to her heart’s content. She was in the midst of an exciting private practice Sunday morning when she heard her father’s voice. "Higher!” he "called. “Throw the ball higher in the air before you strike it.” The girl turned in the direction from where his voice came. Mitchell stood in the pathway through the hedge. His hands were on his hips. He might have been watching her for some time. Her face, red from exertion, colored more darkly. “I didn’t see you,” she said. “Good morning. I'm afraid I’ll never learn how to serve.” "You don’t throw the ball .high enough,” Mitchell repeated. He walked out to where she stood, took the racket and ball in his own hands. "Here —like this!” The white sphere cut sharply across the net to the opposite corner of the court. "Perfect!” cried Celia. "I haven’t had a tennis racket in my hands for years,” her father said, looking down at the object. “Getting too old for the game.” "Not when you can serve a ball like that! Oh, I wish I could make them spin that way! Mine won’t even go over the net.” "Have you got another racket?” "There are some in the house. Wait—l’ll be back in two minutes!” Celia turned and sped down the pathway. In a short time she was back, breathless and eyes shining. She carried three tennis rackets. 'Help yourself,” Celia urged. Mitchell tried them, selected one and walked to the opposite side of the net. He already had put aside his coat and hat. For some time he returned balls and called out suggestions as Celia practiced. Later they were opponents in a game. It ended in the man’s favor. They played a second, which Celia won, and then her father demanded time out for rest. The girl’s embarrassment was gone. She asked questions, tried to correct faults Mitchell criticised. “You’ll get along all right,” he assured her. “It comes with practice.” Celia brushed her hair back impatiently. In her short white dress and heelless slippers she looked a child. Sunshine had turned her face and arms a ruddy tan. A low exclamation came from John Mitchell. (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

Suddenly Werper threw himself to one side to the floor of the tent, leaving a leg extended in the path of the Arab. The trick Succeeded. Mohammed Beyd, carried on by the momentum of his charge, stumbled over the projecting obstacle and crashed to the ground. Instantly he was up again and wheeling to renew the battle; but Werper was one foot ahead of him, and now his revolver, loosened from his holster, flashed in his hand. The Arab dove head-first to grapple with him Tllere was a sharp report and a lurid gleam m she darkness.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR WAY

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Mohammed Beyd rolled over and over upon the floor to come to a final rest beside the cot of Jane Clayton. Almost immediately following the report came the sound of excited voices in the camp without Werper could hear people running hither and thither investigating. But when he looked for the woman she was not there During the frenzy of the death duel she had arisen, passed around the struggling pair, cautiously made her way out through the tent’s entrance and vanished into tpe silent watches of the jungle night.

—By Williams

Tarzan of the Apes was in a quandary Idly he played with the pebbles from his recovered pouch. His thoughts returned to the pile of yellow ingots about which the Arabs and the Abyssinians had waged' their relentless battle. What was there in common between that pile of dirty metal and the beautiful, sparkling pebbles that had formerly been in his pouch? Some half-tantalizing memory connected them in his addled brain, but it was all so vague. Only the scenes of his apish (Jjoildhood rose clear before his mind.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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—By Edgar liice Burroughs

Slowly and painfully recollection was attempt - ing to reassert itself, the hurt brain was mending by the healing processes of perfect circulation. The people who now passed before his mind’s eye for the first time in weeks wore familiar faces; vet he could npt place them in their proper niches or call them by name One wa£ a fair "she.”. What had she been to him? For an instant he deemed to grasp the whole of the true explanation and then the picture faded into a jumbledcene where a naked white boy danced with apwmd of hairy ape-things.

.OCT. 17* 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blossen

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin * *