Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 154, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 November 1930 — Page 10

PAGE 10

BEGIN HERE TODAT CELIA MITCHELL. 17. leases B*itlinpru. where he h* lived with her .'eaoutress mother. MARGARET ROOF PH. to loin her wealthy lather, JOHM MITCHELL. In New York. The narenta are divorced and Mr*. Rogers la a widow, loliowtng a second mar* rtaee BARNEY SHIELDS, young newspaper photographer. Is In love with the girl. Mitchell asks EVELYN PARSONS, beautiful widow, to Introduce hia daughter to other voting peoole. 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 bv encouraging tr romance between Celia and TOD JORDAN, fascinating, but of dubious character. Although MUcfceii forbids Celia to see Jordan she goes about with the voung man frequently. LISI DUNCAN, a girl of Celia's age, becomes her loval friend. Shield* comes to New York to work for a photographic service and meets Ceha. fine tells him she has lost her heart to Jordan. Reallration that it is, really Shields she loves comes to Celia when the voung man Is Imprisoned in a burning building. He escapes unhurt except for a broken arm. Mrs Parsons, who pretends to be friendlv to Shields, goes to Mitchell and fells him Celia is meeting the young man surreptitiously. That afternoon Celia and Shields are strolling together when Mitchell appears. He dismisses the voung man and take* Celia homo where they have a heated argument. Mrs. Parsons arrives and denies she ever has met Shields. Celia rushes from the room. Later she slips out of the apartment and takes a train for Baltimore. She goes to her mother's flat NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CELIA rattled the door knob. No one answered and she knocked again, louder. “Mother!” she cried, “Mother—let me in!” There was no response from within the flat, but a door across the hall opened a few inches and a woman's head, grotesque with curl papers, appeared. “What you want?” she asked crossly. Celia, never had seen the woman before. “I want to see Mrs. Rogers,” she explained. “She must be asleep. I can’t make her hear. I’m her daughter.” The woman opened the door a trifle wider. “She ain't there,” she announced. “Ain’t nobody there. You’ll wake the whole house with that, racket!” . “But my mother lives here!” The stranger shook her head negatively and emphatically. “Ain’t nobody living there,” she insisted, “not. since I moved in. The place is vacant.” “You mean—my mother isn’t here? You mean she’s moved?” “I dunno nothing about it. All I know is that flat’s vacant, and if you keep on pounding on the door nobody’s going to get any sleep. Why don’t you ask the woman that keeps the place? She’s down on the first floor.” The door shut with a bang as the curl-papered head was withdrawn. In dismay and panic Celia stared at the wooden barrier and then fled down the stairs. Mrs. Schultz, custodian of the apartment, lived in the first floor rear flat. Celia rang her bell sharply. Several moments passed, and then she heard a voice. “Who’s there?” The girl was trembling as she answered. “Mrs. Schultz? This is Celia—Celia Mitchell. Can I see you?” “Just a minute, please!” When the door opened the stout Mrs. Schultz, enveloped in a purple cotton kimono and looking sleepy, squinted her eyes at the girl and then stepped back, amazed. “Why—ls it isn’t Celia! What you doing here? Where you come from?” The girl smiled nervously. “Oh, X—l just came to see my mother. I wanted to surprise her. Where is she. Mrs. Schultz? T knocked on the door upstairs, but a woman told me she'd gone away.” Tine custodian nodded She was large and the action set the greater part, of her rotund flesh into motion She spoke with a slight Germanic accent. “Sure! She’s gone. She don’t tell you?” “Why—l can’t, believe it!” Mrs. Schultz swept the door back “Come in,” she said. “Here, sit down. You’re a litle tired, ain’t you? ’ Her voice was sympathetic. She picked up a garment and motioned to the girl to take the chair on which it had hung. “Take it easy, Celia. You look kinda white.” • nan CELIA continued to stand. She eyed the custodian with wide, frightened gaze. 4 “But I don’t understand! How could she go away without telling me? When did she go?” , Mrs. Schultz considered. “Three, four weeks ago,” she answered slowly. “Yes—bout four weeks. Funny she don't tell you she's going. ain't it? She don't tell me neither.” Mist gathered before the girl's

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eyes. All at once she felt deserted and helpless. She sank into the chair and covered her face with her hands. ‘Don't!” the older woman begged softly. “Don't cry. You find her all right!" • She continued to mumble comforting phrases until Celia looked up. rubbing away the tears. “Tell me about it,” the girl said tremulously. Mrs. Schultz plumped into a chair that appeared too small for her. “Well,” she began, "I tell you." With some delay and irrelevant interpolations she explained that Margaret Rogers had come to her on a Saturday afternoon nearly a month earlier and announced she was leaving the city. Her rent was paid for the next two weeks, which was the usual period of notice. Mrs. Schultz said that when she asked her tenant's plans, Mrs. Rogers’ answer was indefinite. She said something about “sending word later.” “But you haven’t heard?” Celia asked quickly. Mrs. Schultz replied in the negative. “Not one word!. Not one word since she walked out of this house!” Celia began to sob again and the woman looked at her anxiously. She had intended to say that ill health might explain Margaret Rogers’ actions, but instinct warned against it. Instead she added that Margaret's household goods—what little there were of them—were stored in the basement. It was an unusual favor, but she had granted it because Mrs. Rogers was an old tenant and always had paid her rent promptly. The girl did not seem to be listening. Suddenly she raised her head excitedly. ‘ But the letters!” Celia cried. “I’ve been getting letters from her —and they were mailed in Baltimore, too!” “Yes?” As Mrs. Schultz uttered the syllable it was both a question and ejaculation. “Every Saturday!” Celia hurried on. “They must mean she’s here, don’t they? She couldn’t send them if she weren't. Oh—what about the letters I wrote her?” The custodian half turned, pointing to a littered desk across the room. “Look!” she commanded. The girl looked. There were all sorts of papers and untidy odds and ends on the desk. Mrs. Schultz rose and moved toward it. She picked up a packet of letters bound by an elastic band and brought them to Celia. All of them were addressed to “Mrs. Margaret Rogers.” “My letters!” Celia exclaimed. “Sure. I keep everything until I hear what she wants. Everything!” There were a few envelopes which looked as though they might contain circulars. Five others were addressed in Celia’s handwriting. The girl studied them, “Mrs. Schultz,” she said appealingly. “where do you think she’s gone?” a a a AN expressive shrug of a bulky shoulder was the answer. After a moment the woman said, “Where is that place she works? Maybe they tell you there.” “Margot's shop! Os course! Why didn’t I think about it?” Celia was on her feet. “Margot will know. I'll go there right away ” Mrs. Schultz raised a hand in protest. “Not now!” she said. “It’s barely 7 oclock. You can't go now!” Celia had forgotten time. There was a clock on the wall. She compared it with her wrist watch. Both of them recorded that it was a few minutes past 7. Margot’s shop would not open until 9. “That’s right,’ she agreed. “I’ll have to wait.” She sat down again, her face clouded. Mrs. Schultz bustled toward the kitchen. “I get you something to eat,” she announced. “I guess maybe you feel better.” Celia objected, declaring she was not hungry, but in the end she followed to the kitchen and presently both of them sat down to a meal of buttered toast, sausage, homemade preserves, doughnuts and coffee. When they had finished and the dishes were washed it was still too early to set out for Margot’s. At Mrs. Schultz’ solicitation the girl lay down in the bedroom. She did not want to sleep, but her eyes closed regularly when the woman looked into the room at 9 o'clock. Mrs. Schultz moved away quietly.

“Poo girl!” she murmured, shaking her head. It was nearly noon when Celia awoke. At first she was bewildered. Then events of the night rushed back to her and she arose immediately. She must get to Margot’s! She dished cold water on her face hasily brushed her hair and with a v ord to the German woman she left the house. After what seemed an interminable delay, a street car came in sight and she boarded it. Celias two hands gripped each other tightly. Over and over she told herself there was nothing to worry about. Margot would tell her where to find her mother. She left the car and walked swiftly up Charles street. Margots Shop looked as usual. She opened the door and entered. a a a A SALESWOMAN she never had seen approached the girl. Celia asked lor the proprietress. “I’m so sorry. She's not here! Will someone else do?” The girl explained her mission and the saleswoman disappeared to return with Miss Devereau, assistant manager. She recognized Celia, greeted her cordially, but admitted she had no knowledge of Mrs. Rogers’ whereabouts. “Margot probably would know,” Miss Devereau said. “Isn’t it a shame! She’s in Canada, and I don’t know when she’ll be back Her sister’s very ill. Oh, I’m so sorry!” “Then you don’t know—?” “Wait! Let’s ask in the fitting room. Maybe someone there can tell you!" In the fitting room a sewing machine buzzed loudly. Four women were bending over heaps of cloth which were garments. Celia recognized Tillie Dennison’s broad shoulders and went up to her. “Hello, Tillie!" “Mercy on us—if it isn’t Celia!” The others stopped work and crowded around. It took only a few minutes for the girl’s worst fears to be justified. Margaret Rogers’ disappearance was a complete mystery to her former colleagues. “I’ll walk to the door with you.” Tillie offered after they had talked a while, but as soon as they were outside the room she stopped and drew something from her apron pocket. “Here, you might as well take these, I guess.” Miss Dennison handed Celia a collection of letters. They were addressed to the girl. Celia uttered a low cry. “She left ’em!” Tillie Dennison muttered. “Asked me to mail ’em to you.. One each week. I’ve sent four. There’s twelve left, isn’t there?” Her mother’s letters! This explained how the others had reached her. Suddenly grief and terror blinded the girl. She ran down the steps and out of the shop. A cab was passing. She hailed it and automatically gave the address of her former home. Arriving there she rang the bell of Mrs. Schultz’s apartment. The door opened and the custodian’s hearty voice greeted her. “Come in, Celia! There’s a man been looking for you!” (To Be Continued) CITES RADIO RIVALRY News Chief Says Advertising Competition Unlikely. Bv United Piets NEW YORK. Nov. 6.— An analysis of the status of radio as a complement. or competitor of the newpaper has been written by Karl A. Bickel, president of the United Press, as one of the features of his book. “New Empires,” published by Lippincott. “Already we have discovered,” he declares in regard to advertisting, “that radio advertising, although effective as a general introducer and reminder, does not compare with the newspaper as a medium to excite immediate and definite sales based on specific price appeal, upon whic'* most newspaper advertising is based.” “But when the radio goes out on its own to cover news and report it,” he continues, “then the radio directly invades the newspaper field and becomes competitive with the newspaper. “And in that situation lies a germ that easily can develop into a most serious situation to both the radio and newspaper industry unless handled with unusual care, consideration and forethought.” Drowned Baby Buried. Bu Times Special FT. WAYNE, Ind., Nov. 6.—Funeral services were held here for Betty Jean Mohr, 14 months old, who was drowned in a cistern at the home of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Darwick Mohr. The child fell into the water while her father had a trap door raised preparatory to repairing a pump.

TARZAN AND THE LOST EMPIRE

It was three days before Tarzan located the point at wh:ch Von Harben had been abandoned by his men. as a heavy rain and wind storm had obliterated the trail, but at last he stumbled upon the tent, which had blown down, but nowhere could he see any signs of Von Harben’s trail.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR WAY

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

weld on suspicion /fnUll WfVS nfver FOUND, BUT (VFTER KFEW WFCrt* a VM *Nt> RELEASED. UJINQUIRIES,THEY per A UNE ON WIM, SITbmM ag?v W LONG ENOU&V) j PHHg lW A VOCK6D N Ml)&? ME, I MTO GIVE DA.WSON j Us—g I matey, LAST N\GWT VT WHERE. \ S A CHANCE ID / H==HE / Y U)K<, TAKING ON AS VHIIAWOOS )

SALESMAN SAM

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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Ascending diagonally and in a westerly direction In the hope of crossing Von Harben's trail, Tarzan moved in the opposite direction from that taken by the man he sought. Presently he encountered an almost perpendicular barrier along the base of which he picked his way among the rocks.

—By Williams

AooK ALIVe.SAM . HUW?OH,(TS MY MAKfiSToU SO SLEEPY JOF OUTY.GUL.7--THASS ' „ ,

So engrossed was the ape-man in the dangerous business of picking his way along the mountain-side that he gave httle heed to anything beyond the necessities of the trail, and he did not see the little group of black warriors gazing up at him from the shelter of a clump of trees far down th^ slope.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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r YoUfL SEMSE. OE DUTY? \UE (AWAKE SO MOC-H* WWADDPv Vft MEfvAr? (AT NIGHT TBINKINOi———• I (ABOUT MY WORK 1 .

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

tW-ty Mnr S*. *■—■ ' j I/jV i | ? 1 \ / jSr mMirWf 1 m/fM it

As Tarzan advanced his body was pressed closely against a granite face of the cliff while he sought a foothold upon the ledge of loose rubble. Where the footing was narrowest a stone gave beneath his foot, throwing him off hi balance. Nkima shrieked and leaped from W shoulder as Tarzan lunged down the embankment, * '

JNOV. 6, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blossei:

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin