Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 169, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 November 1930 — Page 8

PAGE 8

Murder At Bridge ’ TE AVEN&N& BACKSTAIRS-

BEGIN HER*- TODAY PENNY CRAIN. society girl, now the district tttomey's secretary because of her father's failure, telephones, to •■BONNIE'' DUNDEE, special investigator, that fUANTTA FKLIM. Broadway dancer brought to Hamilton by LOIS DUNLAP to organize the Little Theater, has been murdered at a bridge given In her own hom*. At the house. where CAPTAIN fiTP.AWN is in charge. Dundee sees the dead woman bowed over her dressing table, shot through the heart. Among the gue.ts is DEXTER SPRAGUE, typically Broadwav end alien to the group. While RALPH HAMMOND, once Penny's property but annexed by Nlta, Is mitring Dundee learns that as they were playing the lart, hand. TRACEY MILES, one of the first nv’n to arrive, came in, at about 5:27. Nita immediately sprang up. being dummy, and left. Miles went Into the dining room, followed by Lola Dunlap KAREN MARSHALL, the judge's young bride, found the body when she ran in at the end of the hand W tell Nlta the score, and her scream brought the whole party to the bedroom. No one wag s<en in the room or In the foyer outside the room Dundee asks Penny to tell the r.torv of the afternoon. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY chapter Five “ tUST a minute, before you be- ** gin, Miss Crain,” Dundee requested. ' I'd like to make notes on your story,” and he drew from a coat pocket a shorthand book, hastily filched from Penny's own tidy desk. •‘Yes,” he answered the girl’s frank stare of amazement, “I can write shorthand—of a sort, and pretty fast at that, though no other human being. I am afraid, could read it but myself. "As for you folks,” he addressed the uneasy, silent group of men and women in dead Nita’s living room, "I shall ask you not to interrupt Miss Crain unless you are very sure that her memory is at fault.” Penelope Crain was about to begin for the second time, when again Dundee interrupted. ‘‘Another half second, please.” On the first, sheet of the new shorthand book Dundee scribbled: Suggest you try to locate Ralph Hammond immediately. Very much in love with Mrs. Selim. Invited to cocktail party; did not show up,” and, tearing the sheet from the notebook, passed it tar Captain Strawn, who read it. frowning, and then nodded. "Doc Price has done all he can here,” Strawn whispered huskily. • Wants to know if you’d like to speak to him before he takes the body to the morgue.” “Certainly.” Dundee answered as he grinned apologetically to the girl who was waiting, white-faced but patiently, to tell the story of the afternoon. Quickly suppressed shudders and low exclamations of horror followed him and the chief of the homicide squad from the room. “Well, Bonnie boy, we meet again, for the usual reason,” old Dr. Price greeted the district attorney’s new "special investigator.” “Another shocking affair—this. ... A nice clean wound, one of the neatest jobs I ever saw, * “Shot entered the back and penetrated the heart. . . . Very nicely calculated. If the bullet had struck a quarter inch higher, it would have been deflected by the—” Dundee tried to listen patiently, but he had heard all that was necessary for his purposes In regard to (he actual wound itself; besides,this cold-blooded analysis of the path of the bullet, which had ended the life of a beautiful woman was acutely distasteful to the young detective. But a word in his own reflections caught him up short. it a a ' / "‘r , HE path of the bullet, doctor!" 1 he broke in. “Have you made any calculations as to the place and distance at which the shot was fired?” "Roughly speaking—yes,” the coroner answered. “The gun was fired ,at a distance probably, of 10 or 15 leet—perhaps closer, but I don't think so," he amended meticulously. “As for the path of the bullet, I have fixed it, judging from the position of the body, which I am assured had not been touched before my arrival, as coming from a point somewhere along a straight line drawn from the woman's wound, with the body upright, of course, to —here!” Dundee and Strawn followed the brisk little white-haired old doctor across the bedroom to the window opening upon the drive—the one nearest the porch leading out upon the porch. “I've marked the end of the line here," Dr. Price went on, pointing to a faint pencil mark made upon the frame of the window— I me palegreen strip of woodwork nearer the

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chaise longue, which was set between the two windows. “1 told you she was shot from the window!” Strawn reminded Dundee triumphantly. “You see, Doc, it’s my theory that the murderer climbed up the sill of this window, which was open as it is now, crouched in it and shot her while she sat there powdering her face. Dundee did not trouble to remind Strawn of his previously expressed objections to this theory, for Dr. Price was pointing out: “Not necessarily, Captain, not necessarily. I merely say that this pencil mark indicates the end of the line showing the path of the bullet. “Certainly she was not shot through the frame of the window, but she might have been shot by any one standing just in front of it, or anywhere along this line, up to say, within 10 feet of the woman. Now, if that’s all, Captain, I’ll be getting this corpse Into the morgue for an autopsy. And I’ll send you both a copy of my findings.” ‘.‘Just a minute, Dr. Price,” Dundee detained him. “How old would you say Mrs. Selim was?” The little doctor pursed his wrinkled lips and considered for a moment, eyeing the body stretched upon the chaise longue speculatively. “We-ell, between 30 and 34 years old,” he answered finally. “Os course you understand that that estimate is unofficial. a tt a DUNDEE stared down at the upturned f ace of the dead woman with startled incredulity. Between 30 and 34 years old. That tiny, lovely—But she was not quite so lovely in death, in spite of the serenity it had brought to those oncevivacious features. Peering more closely, he could see —without those luminous wide eyes to center his attention—numerous fine lines in the waxen face, the slackness of a little pouch of soft flesh beneath the round chin, an occasional white hair upon the shoulder-length dark curls. . . . Dundee sighed. How easy It was for a beautiful woman to deceive men with a pair of wide, velvety black eyes! But he'd bet the women had not been quite so thoroughly taken in by her cuddly childishness, her odd mixture of demureness and youthful impudence! Back in the living room, whose occupants stopped whispering and grew taut with suspense, Dundee seated himself at a little red-lac-quer table, his notebook spread, while Strawn settled himself heavily in the nearest overstuffed armchair. “Now\ Miss Crain, I am quite ready, if you will forgive me for having kept you waiting.” In a very quiet voice—slightly husky, as always—Penny, from her seat on a nearby sofa, along with Lois Dunlap and Janet R&' mond, began her story: “I think it lacked two or three minutes of 1 o'clock when you drove away. Nita, Lois and I w r ent immediately into the lounge of Breakaway inn, where we found Janet Raymond. Carolyn Drake and Flora Miles waiting for us. “Nita soon left us to see about the arrangement of the table, and while she was away the rest of the girls arrived.” “Except—” a woman’s voice broke in. “I was going to say all eight of us were ready for lunch except Polly Beale. She hadn't come,” Penny went on, her husky voice a little sharp with annoyance. “When Nita came to ask us into the private dining room, one of the inn's employes came and told her there was a call for her, and showed her to a private booth in the lounge. “In a minute Nita returned to us, and told us that Polly wasn’t coming to the luncheon, but would join us later for bridge here.” “Why don’t you tell him how funny Nita acted?” Janet Raymond prompted, a strong suggestion of malice in her voice. Penny flushed, but she accepted the prompting. “I think any of us might have been a little—annoyed,” she said steadily, as if striving to be utterly truthful. “Nita told us”— she turned to Dundee whose pencil was flying—“that Polly had made no excuse at all; in fact, she quoted Polly exactly: “Sorry, Nita. Can’t make it for lunch. I’ll show up at your place at 2:30 for bridge.” “Nita couldn’t bear the least hint of being slighted,” Janet Raymond

explained, with a malicious gleam in her pale blue eyes. “If it hadn’t been for Lois and Hugo—Judge Marshall, I mean—Nita Selim never would have been included in any of our affairs—and she knew it! The Dunlaps can do anything they please, because they’re—” tt n a “rjLEASE. Janet!” Lois Dunlap X cut in, her usually placid voice becoming quite sharp. “You must know by this time that I make friends wherever I pleasd, and that I liked—yes, I was extremely fond of poor little Nita. “In fact, I am forced to believe that, of all the women she met in this town, I was her only real friend.” There was a flush of anger on her lovably plain face as her eyes challenged first one and then another of the “Forsyte girls.” One or two looked a little ashamed, but there was not a single voice to contradict Lois Dunlap’s flat assertion. “Will you please go on, Miss Crain?” Dundee urged, but he had missed nothing of the little by-play. “I wish you would call me Penny so I’d feel more like a person than a witness,” Penny retorted thornily, “Where was I?. . . Oh, yes! Nita cooled right off when Lois reminded her that Polly was always abrupt like that”—and here Penny paused to grin apologetically at the girl with the masculine-looking haircut —“and then we all went into the private dining room, where Nita had provided a perfectly gorgeous lunch, with a heavenly centerpiece of green-striped yellow orchids—Well, I don’t suppose you’re interested in what we ate and things like that—” she hesitated. “Was there anything unusual in the conversation—anything like a quarrel?” Dundee prompted, but “green-striped yellow orchids” was underlined heavily in his shorthand notes. “Oh, no!” Penny protested. “Nothing happened out of the ordinary at all—No, wait! Nita received a letter by messenger—or rather a note, when we were about half through luncheon—” There was a low-strangled-in-tne-throat cry from some one—who had uttered It, Dundee could not be sure, since his eyes had been on his notebook. But what really had interrupted Penny Crain was a crash. (To Be Continued)

Concerning Clairbert

BY WALTER ID. HICKMAN So there can be no misunderstanding of my idea about Clare Clairbert, colorature soprano, in concert Sunday at English’s, I will state that she has a wonderful voice but the afternoon had many bad moments. Not as to the voice of this woman. I think it is entirely wrong for any singer to attempt to build a program on her feet. Meaning that encores do the trick. Here is a fine voice. Here is a woman who lacks showmanship and that was too well demonstrated yesterday. I think she would be wonderful in opera in roles suited to her voice. A mistake was made when a pianist, in this case, Frances De Bourguigon, was elevated to the program rank of an individual artist. Then the flutist, Eugene Lion, became an individual artist. Why break up the program of a coloratura soprano of the brilliant worth of this woman? If a woman of the ability in certain high registers is to give a program, then why in the world use associated individuals on that program? If this is a conceit in song, then let us have song. Whoever is building an encore program for this woman is all wrong in my opinion. If the applause amounts to anything yesterday at English’s, then j am wrong. If Clairbert could have been the big event on this program, as she should have been, then I would have found no fault with this concert. I do not want voice, piano and flute mixed when I go to hear a singer in concert. I expected somebody to bring in the drums any minute. She was gracious in encores. Too much so, because her program was not correctly built. Have your own idea about this concert. This concert was given by the Martens Concerts, Inc. Scholarship Awarded By United Press RICHMOND, Ind., Nov. 24. Mary E. Holaday, Wilmington, 0., daughter of Ross E. Holaday, who died while serving as American consul in Manchester, England, t w r ill receive the consular scholarship to Earlham college, it is annuonced by President William C. Dennis. The scholarship is a cash stipend of S2OO and free tuition offered by Chester D. Pugssey of Peekskill, N. Y., children of American consuls and vice-consuls.

TARZAN AND THE LOST EMPIRE

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After two hours of marching the trail entered a gorge so narrow that its rocky walls were easily spanned by Tarzan’s outstretched hands. The footing was poor and dangerous. The cliffs on either side rose higher and higher, until in places the gloom of night surrounded the prisoners.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

’out our way

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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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BOOTS iAND HER BUDDIES

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For a long hour they followed the windings of this dismal gorge. The column halted for a minute or two, and, immediately after the march was resumed, Tarzan saw those directly ahead of him filing through an arched gateway in a man-made wall of solid masonry that entirely blocked the gorge to a height of a hundred feet.

—By Williams

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When it was the ape-man s turn to pass the portal, he saw that it was guarded by other soldiers similar to those Into whose hands he had fallen, and that there was a second gate of huge, hand-hewn timber that had been swung open to permit the party to pass. Ahead was a well-worn road leading to a dense forest. •*

/i T • - OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The command to halt was given at a small village of conical huts. There camp was pitched. The prisoners were given no shelter but were permitted to build a fire. As Tarzan sat by the fire, an acorn from a tree above fell upon his head. He looked up to see a little monkey perched oa a low branch. It was Nkima!

_NOV. 24, 1930

—Ahern

—By Blosser,

-By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin