Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 189, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 December 1930 — Page 13

DEC 17, 1930.

Murder A! Bridge fau ANN £ \IJST IN xtuz/oy &£ the black pigeon* ■ ) / * the avenging BACKSTAIRS- ' U

rv. v?? GIN **** TODAY _- i M^‘ c 1 * ln the murder of Bf ' a hrl(l * e V*rtv mi LKB. in Nlta’* cloaet reading; a note which she thinks 1* from her Husband; DEXTER SPRAGUE. who wrote that note, and LYDIA, her maid. Lydia save she loved Nlta. and la ahowln* SPECIAL WV EBTIGATOR DUNVF?. . P u rt ?r n . l ?_ * he *ve her. when TRACEY MILES, one of the guests, return* to take Lvdia home with him. Dundee read* Nita’s wiil. leaving everythl"* to Lydia, which shows NSta's fear of death and gives Lvdia additional motlw. He learns that Nita went out with RALPH HAMMOND Thursday night, and aw Sprague Friday night, the night she made her wilt. Mile* tells Dundee that when he called on Nlta that morning, he found Nita ■:nd lvdia gone, and Ralph there Ralph '■emed a little Jealous of his calling on .Nlta too. After Mile* and Xvdia leave. Dundee finds the kitchen door has been unlocked. Searching the attic, he finds traces In the bedroom of a man's having slent there the night before. He calls CAPTAIN STRAWN. who romes with fingerprint men and detectives. and learns that a small grip which t ow is gone was in that room when it was searched before. He believes that Sprague used the room, and was told dv Nlta to clear out. Lvdia came up to tell him to take Itls things out. Sprague returned that evening and got the grip Despite this, Dundee doesn’t belt*v Sprague did it. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TV7ENLY-FIVE (Continued) Ills lazy eyes roved over the plain •everity but solid comfort of his bedroom, and on past the open door to take in appreciatively the equally comfortable and masculine living room. . . . Pretty nice! That leather-upholstered couch and armchair had been a real bargain, and he liked them ail the better for being rather scuffed and shabby. Then his eyes halted upon a covered cage, swung from a pedestal. . . . "Poor old Cap'n . . . Must be wondering when the devil I’m going to get up!” and he swung out if bed, lounged sleepily into the small living room and whisked the square of black silk from the cage. The parrot, formerly the property of murdered old Mrs. Hogarth of the Rhodes house, but for the last year the young detective’s official “Watson,” ruffled his feathers, poked his green-and-yellow head between the bars of his cage and croaked hoarsely: "Hullo! Hullo!” “Hullo yourself, my dear Watson!” Dundee retorted, "Your vacation is over, old top! It’s back on the job for you and me both! . . . Which reminds me that I ought to be taking a squint at the Sunday papers, to see how much Captain Strawn thought fit to tell the press.” n tt a HE found The Hamilton Morning News in the hall just outside his living room door. "Listen, Captain. . . . ‘NTTA SELIM MURDERED AT BRIDGE.’ . Probably the snappiest streamer headline the News has had for many a day. . . . Now let’s see—” He was silent for two minutes, while his eyes leaped down tlie lesser headings and the story of the murder. Then: “Good old Strawn! Not a word, my dear Watson, about your absurd master’s absurd performance in having ‘the death hand at bridge’ replayed! Not a word about Ralph Hammond, the missing guest! Not a word about Mrs. Tracey Miles being luclden away in the clothes closet while her hostess was being murdered! In fact, my dear Watson, not a word about anything except Strain's own theory that a hired gunman from New York or Chicago -preferably Nita’s home town, New York, of course—sneaked up, crouched in her window, and bumped her off. And life-size photographs of the big footprints under the window to prove his theory! “By golly, Cap’ll! I clean forgot to tell my former chief that I’d found Nita’s will and note to Lydia! He'll think I deliberately held out on him . . , Well —I can’t sit here all day gossiping with you. Work —much work—to be done, then— Sunday dinner with poor little Penny.” Pour hours later a tired and disspirited young detective was climbing the stairs of the five-story “walk-up” apartment house in which Penny Crain and her mother bad been living since the financial failure and flight of the husband and father. Roger Crain. “Hello, there!” It was Penny’s friendly voice, hailing him from the topmost landing of the steep stairs. “All winded, poor thing?” His eyes drank her in—the freshness and sweetness of a domestic Penny Crain, so different from the thorny little office Penny who prided herself on her efficiency as secretary to the district attorney. . . . Penny in flowered voile, with a saucy, ruffled white apron. . . . But there were purplish shadows under her brown eyes, and her gayety lasted only until he had reached her side.

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“Sh-h-h 1— Have they found Ralph?" she whispered anxiously. He could only answer “No.” Mother's all of a twitter at my having a detective to dinner,” she whispered, trying to be gay again. "She fancies you’ll be wearing size 11 shoes and a ‘six-shooter’ at your belt— Yes, mother! It’s Mr. Dundee!” Bhe did not look “all of a twitter,” this pretty but -rather faded middle-aged little mother of Penny’s. A gentle dignity and patient sadness, w r hich Dundee was sure were habitual of her, lay in the faded blue eyes ana upon the soft, sweet mouth. . . . But Mrs. Crain was ushering him into the living room, and its charm made him forget for the moment that the Crains were to be pitied, because of their “come-down” in life. For every pie£e of furniture seemed to be authentic early American, and the hooked rugs and fine, brocaded damasks allied themselves with the fine old furniture to defeat the ugliness with which the Maple Court apartments’ architect had ben fiercely determined to punish its tenants. “‘Scuse me! Gotta dish up!” Penny flung over her shoulder as she ran away and left him alone with her mother. n it it T'vUNDEE liked Mrs. Crain for making no excuses about a maid they couldn’t afford, liked ihe way she settled into a lovely, ancient rocking chair and set herself to entertain him while her daughter made ready the dinner. Not a word was said about the horrible tragedy which had occurred the day before in the houes which had once been her home. They talked of Penny’s work, and the little gentlewoman listened eagerly, with only the faintest of sighs, as Dundee humorously described Penny’s fierce efficiency and District Attorney Sanderson’s keen delight in her work. "Bill Sanderson is a nice boy,” the woman of perhaps 48 said of Hamilton’s 35-year-old district attorney. “It is nice for Penny to w’ork with an old friend of the family, or was—until ” And that was the nearest she came to mentioning the murder before Penny summoned them to the little dining room. Because Penny was watchin him and was obviously proud of her skill as a cook—skill recently acquired, he was sure—Dundee ate as heartily as his carefully concealed depression would permit. There was a beautifully browned roast of beef, pan-browned potatoes, new peas, escalloped tomatoes, and for dessert, a gelatine pudding which Penny proudly announced was “Spanish cream,” the secret of which she had mastered only that morning. “I was up almost at dawn to make it, so that it w r ould ’set’ in time,” she told him. Dundee knew that it was not Spanish cream which had got her up. . . . “I’m going to help wash dishes,” he announced firmly, and Penny, with a quick intake of breath, agreed. “Hadn't you better take a Dap, mother?” she added a minute later, as Mrs. Crain, with a slight flush on her faded cheeks, began to stack the dessert dishes. “You mustn’t lay a hand on these dishes, or Bonnie and I will have our dishwashing picnic spoiled . . . Run along now. You need sleep, dear.” “Not any more than you do, poor baby!” Mrs. Crain quavered, and then hurried out of the room. “I called you ’Bonnie’ so Mother would know we are really friends,” Penny explained, her chelts red, as she preceded him through the swinging door into the miniature kitchen. “You’ll stick to that being friends, I mean, no matter what happens, won’t you, Penny?” Dundee said in a low voice, setting the fragile crystal dishes he carried upon the porcelain drainboard of the sink. “I knew you had sometliing bad to tell me. . . . It’s about—Ralph, I suposc?” Her husky voice was scarcely audible above the rush of hot water into the dishpan. “You’d better tell me straight off, Bonnie. I'm not a very patient person. . . . Are they going to arrest Ralph when they find him? There wasn’t a word in the paper about him this morning—”

“T’M afraid they are, Penny,’ Dunxdee told her miserably. "Captain Strawn has a warrant ready, but, of course ” "Oh, you ddn’t have to tell me you hope Ralph isn’t guilty!., she cut in with sudden passionate vehemence. "Don’t I know he couldn’t have done it? They always arrest the WTong person first, the blunderin gidots ” It was the thorny Penny again, the Penny with glittering eyes which matched her nickname. But Dundee felt better able to cope with this Penny. . . . “I’m afraid I'm the chief idiot, but you mus tbelieve that I’m sorry that it should be a friend of yours,” he told her, and reached for the plate she had rinsed of its suds under the hot water tap. "Shoot the works!” she commanded, with hard flippancy. "Os course I might have known that Captain Strawn's theory about a gunman was just dust in our eyes, and that only a miracle could keep you from fastening on poor Ralph, since he and the gun are both missing. Naturally It wouldn’t occur to you that it might be an outsider, some one who had followed Nita and her lover, Sprague, from New York, to kill her for having left him for Sprague. . . . Oh, no! Certainly not!” she gibed, to keep from bursting into tears. “An outsider hardly would have access to Judge Marshall’s pistol and Maxim silencer,” he reminded her. “And Captain Strawn received a wire from a ballistic expert in Chicago this morning, confirming our conviction that the same gun which fired the bullets against Judge Marshall’s target fired the bullet which killed Nita Selim. “You’ve washed that plate long enough. Let me dry it now. . . . And there are other things, Penny ” "Such as—” she challenged. “Sprague admitted to me this morning, after I had confronted him with proofs, that he sometimes slept in the upstairs bedroom—” “I told you they were lovers!” Penny interrupted. “—and that he slept there Friday night, after he and Nita had quarreled. He still contends that tiie row was over that movie-of-Hamilton business,” Dundee went on, as if she had not spoken. “He admitted also that Nita had told him to take his things away when he left Saturday morning, but he says it was only because she didn’t want Ralph Hammond to find a man’s belongings there if he had occasion to go into the upstair* rooms in making his estimates for the finishing up of the other side. "But he contends, and Lydia Carr, whom I also saw again this morning, supports him in it, that he stayed in the house occasionally when Nita was particularly nervous about being alone, and that they were not lovers.” #a # v “TJOOH! . . . Don't wipe the JL flowers off that plate. Here's another.” "I'm inclined to say ‘Pooh!’ too, Penny,” Dundee assured her, “but Tracey Miles told me last night when he came to get Lydia that Nita really seemed to be in love with Ralph—part of the time, at least.” (To Be Continued)

STICKERS V i CAR j **** C** * * R***W If you put the right letters in the place ot the stars above you will form five words that read tire same from left to right as from top to bottom. The W, down in the right-hand comer, makes it just a wee bit easier to work out. .

Answer for Yesterday

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TARZAN AND THE LOST EMPIRE

There was little comfort upon the cold, hard .'tones of the dungeon floor, but Tarzan, inured to hardship from birth, slept soundly until the coming of the jailer with food -everal hours after sunrise. Water and coarse bread were doled out to the prisoners by slaves in charge of a surly half-caste in the uniform of a legionary.

.THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES'.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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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 AND HER BUDDIES

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As he ate, Tarzan surveyed his fellow prisoners. There was Cassius Hasta, from the kingdom of Castrum Mare, and Maximus Praeclarus. These two and himself were the only whites. There were Lukedl, the Bagego, and Mpignu, the black slave who had betrayed the ape-man under promise of freedom—which he never got.

—By Ahem

Five strapping warriors from the outer villages were also in the dungeon. They were men picked because of their superb physiques for the gladiatorial contests that would form so important a part of the games that would shortly take place in the arena for the glorification of Emperor Sublatus and the edification of the masses.

OUT OUR WAY

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— v /—• V~ ru- take mini OUER. L SHIP? You DONTT I SHOULDBZ AND CATO/ )

1 , [ w~COOßS* , .t''.wv...iT>, OINKY-OVt BAC*! WHAT KINO c* * ■ TURNIP OO Y'YHIIOK XAM ? CAN X HfcXP W \E WE. MONEY YW' WAX oot& ? \xW neoxr been hTY voea l BXWOEfe ,ff HE WANT* T'scatter. W* OOU6H , VET '’,M VT HOT\n’ ANYONE EXCEPT OtUTRAV. MTR\MON\AV. BONO *AVE>WCKEN ,X COO VO MENTION

—By Edgar Rice Burrough:

On the third day, another white prisoner, Caec ill us Metellus, was brought in from Castrum mare. Cassius Hasta greeted him as a friend. From this newcomer Tarzan learned that the young man whom he sought, Erich van Harben, was even then a prisoner in Castrum Mare. "I shall escape,” said Tarzan, “and go to his rescue.”

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser,

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin