Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 153, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 November 1930 — Page 9

NOV. 5, 1930

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BEGIN HKSLE TODAY CKLLA UITtrUEU* 11, leave* Baltimore, where she ha* lived with her seamstress mother. MAROABET ROGERS, to loin her wealthy lather. JOHN MITCHELL, in New York. The Sarents are divorced and Mrs. Rogers i a widow, following a second marriage. BARNEY SHIELDS, young newspaper Jhotographer. is in love with the girl. Mitchell asks EVELYN PARSONS, beautiful widow, to Introduce his daughter to other young people. Mrs. Parsons agrees, considering Celia a means to win Mitchell's affections. She soon becomes Jealous of the girl and schemes to get rid of her by encouraging a romance betweep Celia and TOD JORDAN, fascinating, but of dubious character. Although Mitchell forbids Celia to see Jordan she goes about with the young man frequently. LISI DUNCAN, a girl of Celia's age. becomes her loyal friend. Shields comes to New York to work for a photographic service and meets Celia. She tells him she has lost her heart to Jordan. Realization that It really Is Shields she loves comes to Celia when the young man is imprisoned In a burning building. He escapes unhurt except for a broken arm. Mrs. Parsons, who pretends to by friendly to Shields, goes to Mitchell and tells him Celia Is meeting the young man surreptitiously. , ~ That afternoon Celia and Shields are strolling together when Mitchell appears. He dismisses Shields and takes Celia home where thev have a heated argument. Mrs. Parsons arrive/ and denies she ever has met Shields. Celia rushes from the room. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN IT was Evelyn Parsons’ falsity as much as Mitchell’s anger that sent Celia running from the room. Hot, indignant tears coursed the girl’s cheeks and sobs shook her shoulders. After she was calm enough to think, she knew exactly what she must do. ‘ There was a telephone in the room. Celia lifted the instrument and gave the operator a number. Before the call was answered, changed her mind and set the telephone down. It was after 6 o’clock. In another part of the apartment preparations for dinner must be going n. Evelyn must be dressing and the maid would be helping her. There was no sound of life, however, outside the door of Celia’s room. The girl made her preparations swiftly. She dried her eyes and tried to erase their swollen redness. Then she got out her traveling bag, opened it and tossed in garments and toilet articles. She changed to a plain dark frock and pulled a felt hat over her head. She barely glanced at the mirror, as she threw the things on. Speed was what counted! There was enough money in her purse. Celia counted it. Twentyfour dollars and 40 cents. She picked up her gloves and was ready to leave. Celia had one hand on the door knob when she stopped. Suppose her father had not gone! He and Evelyn still might be in the living room and she would have to pass the door. She saw at once that she could not risk the encounter. It was difficult to wait, but Celia set down the traveling bag. She dropped into a chair. One foot tapped nervously. After a foment she rose, walked to the window and then sat down again. She had never known time to pass bo slowly. At 7 o’clock Celia could delay no longer. If Mitchell was there he and Eve’ would be at the dinner table. A.-> r> iselessly as possible she opened the door. Light from the living room gleamed in the hallway. Celia crept gingerly along. She hesitated, saw that there was no one in the room beyond and reached the living room. It was deserted. A moment more and she had reached the door leading into the corridor. No one had seen her! Celia was breathing rapidly as she stepped out on the street a few minutes later. “Do you wish a cab, madam?” It was the liveried doorman who asked the question. The girl nodded. When the cab drew up she entered and sank back against the seat, grateful for the shadowed darkness. She told the driver to take her to Grand Central station. It was all very clear in the girl’s mind exacty what she was to do, but now that she _was on her way and the fever of excitement and anger had spent itself she felt suddenly weak. She put her handkerchief to her eyes, determined not to cry. B B B THEY reached the railway terminal. Celia paid the cab driver, picked up her bag and went inside. She walked until she found an array of telephones. There she gave the number of Barney’s ehib and waited. A feminine voice answered. “Is Mr. Barney Shjelds in?” Celia asked. •’What was the name, please?” “Shields. Barney Shields. I’d like to speak to him, please.”

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How do you spell the name, ma’am?” “Shield s—Shields!” "One momenV the laconic soprano voice replied, "I’ll see if he's in.” The air in the booth was stuffy. Celia's pulse was racing and she felt faint. She clung for support to the shelf on which the telephone rested. Minutes seemed to pass before the soprano voice again answered. “I'm sorry. Mr. Shields is not here, madam. Will you leave a number?” “He’s not there?” “No., ma’am. Would you like to leave a number for him to call?” “No, thank you.” Celia put down the telephone and stepped out of the booth. She had to see Barney! That thought was uppermost in the girl’s mind. She had to see Barney and tell him It had all been a mistake l in the afternoon, she must apologize for what her father had said. She could not leave and have Barney Shields think she and her father considered themselves superior to him. Her cheeks flushed. There were other things the young man must be made to understand. Uncertainly the girl looked about her. The traveling bag was at her feet. She disposed of that first, leaving it at a checking stand. Celia decided to wait half an, hour and then telephone. Barney was probably out at dinner. She made her way through the labyrinthine corridors of the station until she reached the street. Lights glared and the sidewalk was crowded. Men, women and children rushed past as though on important missions. Celia wondered vaguely at their eagerness. Curious that all should have the same staccato tempo. She became lost in the surge of traffic at a street intersection. By what seemed a miracle she reached the other side of the broad thoroughfare. The sidewalk was lined with a host of small shops, each with brightly lighted windows. Celia studied them as she passed. It was the theater crowd which was sweeping her along. When she had reached Times square she turned and retraced her steps. Neither the oncoming horde nor store windows interested her any longer. Suddenly she saw that it was 8 o’clock. She began to walk swiftly, then, realizing naively that there were telephones all about, she entered a drug store, found a booth and again called Shields’ club. 808 THE same voice answered. Thera was the same spelling of the name and delay before the operator reported, “Mr. Shields is not in, madam.” Celia thought rapidly. There was no number that she could leave, no way for Barney to reach her. Yet she must see him. “Can I leave a message?” she asked. “Certainly, madam.” "Will you tell Mr. Shields that Miss Mitchell telephoned and that she will call again?” The girl at the other end of the connection repeated the message. She assured Celia it would be delivered. It was a problem to know what to do after that. Although she hail had no food the thought of eating did not occur to Celia. She wandered back to Grand Cen tral Station, inquired about trains to Baltimore and was given a marked time table. Busses for the last train checked departed at 10:40. Celia walked out on the street again. A blaze of electricity some distance up Lexington avenue attracted her. It was a motion picture theater. Celia bought a ticket and went inside. An usher conducted her to a seat. The drama being unreeled was near its mid-point, quite unintelligible, but the girl felt comforted by the darkness and blessed release from the noise and clangor. She had not noticed the title of the film. Familiar faces of actors and actresses passed before her and she scarcely saw them. She remembered, though, from time to time, to glance at her watch. When it was almost 1C o’clock Celia left the theater. She returned to the station and the booth from where she had first telephoned. It was a. man’s voice that answered. Again Celia asked for Barney. She tapped her heel nervously as she waited.

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It came at last! “Mr. Shields is not in, madam.” "But—hasn’t he been in? I called earlier and left a message. Do you know if he received it?” “One moment, madam.” The clerk’s voice came back over the wire: “There’s no message in Mr. Shields’ box. What time did you say you called?” Celia told him. “Then he should have had your j message. Do you care to leave any j further word?” “No, thank you.” BBS SHE shut her eyes as she turned . away from the telephone. There j was nothing more that she could ' do! Suddenly Celia Mitchell felt ‘ herself a little girl again, fright- j ened, abused and greatly in need i of comforting. She longed for protecting arms j about her and a shoulder on which : she could rest her head and weep \ out her misery. She wanted the one j person who always understood —her mother. She blinked the tears back. Her eyes sought the big station clock and she nearly ran to the checking stand to get her bag. There was a line waiting before the ticket window, but she took her place and tried to master her impatience. “You minutes to make i it!” the salesman said crisply as he handed over the slip of pasteboard. A red-capped porter offered assistance. He led off on a run and Celia followed. Breathless she swung into the last remaining bus seat. With reckless gratitude she tossed a dollar bill to the porter as the driver set his engine throbbing. Celia leaned back' and closed her eyes. When it was time to transfer from bus to train she realized that her ticket was for the day coach. The conductor offered to see if she could transfer to a Pullman. After ten minutes he returned. “Sorry, Miss. Everything’s taken. It’s possible there’ll be a cancelation.” 9 Cglia thanked him and settled back against the dusty car seat. How very tired she was! Her eyes closed. Several times she stirred, frowned at tAe lights and twisted into greater comfort. She slept soundly. Then she heard the conductor trying to rouse her. “This is Baltimore!” he said. ! Celia rubbed her eyes, sat up and gathered together her possessions. It was gray morning when she stepped out on the Mount Royal platform and hailed a cab. A tremendous sense of excitement stirred her as she rode through the familiar streets. They reached her former home. Celia ran up the steps. Beaming, breathless, she rapped on the door of the third-floor apartment. She rapped a second time. There was no answer. (To Be Con tinned) MOVIETRICKS ANGER EUROPE Lip Readers Detect Use of Language ‘Doubles/ Bu I'nitcd Bretts PARIS, Nov. 5. —American film magnates have come to the sudden realization that unless Hollywood becomes polyglot the world film markets will be lost to America. Europe, they find, objects to an American actor, clearing speaking English according to his lip movements, speaking Spanish, French, German or Italian through the amplifiers. Such films recently have been hooted in Madrid and Paris, where the audiences object to false lip movement. The same reception has been reserved for Hollywoo’d foreign language films as acted by home talent. There was one French film with Dutch, Russian, Spanish and American players speaking French, each with a different accent, and the Paris audiences took the film as the best comedy of the season, when it .vas intended to be a serious detective story.

Ah! Romantic Bu United Press CHICAGO, Nov. s.—John Granta, a romantic photographer, holds no grudge against the youth who broke his show’ window In an effort to steal a picture of a pretty girl. “In fact, said Granta, “too seldom these days does one find a young fellow like that. I’m sorry the police chased him away before he got the picture. "If he’ll call for It I’ll give it to him and ask no questions. The policeman said he was good looking, too. How romantic!”

TARZAN AND THE LOST EMPIRE

After Dr. von Harben explained his son’s disappearance Tarzan announced, “I leave at once!” Taking Nkima, the monkey, with him he moved silently off into the'jungle, his lithe carriage, his noiseless tread, his majestic mien suggesting to the mind of the doctor a personification of another mighty jungle Numa the lion, king of beasts.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES*

OUT OUR WAY

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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Several days-out on the trail, as Tarzan swung swiftly and quietly through the trees, he saw below hjm-some sqore of natives straggling along through tiie jungle. A few of them were armed with rifles and carried packs of various sizes—such packs as Tarzan knew must belong to the equipment of a white man. The Lord of the Jungle hailed them.

—By Williarns

The blacks halted, looked up fearfully. “I am Tarzan of the Apes. Do not be afraid,” he reassured them, and simultaneously he dropped to the trail 'among them. "Where is your master?” demanded Tarzan “He Is dead,” one of them mumbled. “Where is his body?” “We could not find it.” “You are not speaking true words," *"’**■'■ *

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

"We were afraid,” said a frightened black. “We deserted him upon the slopes of the Wiramwazi.” "Go your way back to your own villages,” said Tarzan "If your Bwana is dead, you shall be punished.” And, swinging into the lower branches of the trees, Tarzan disappeared from the sight of the unhappy blacks in the direction of the WLramwazL

PAGE 9

—Bv Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin