Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 205, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 January 1931 — Page 9

fd IAN. 5, 1931

rMtrder At Bridge

BEGIN HEBE TODAY k JUANITA SELIM Is murdered at fgdMj; lour days later DEXTER •PRAGUE also Is murdered durinjr a wldae party at the TRACEY MILES' oome. Police think both were killed by * New York Runman. to avenge the gt£L 01 'SWALLOWTAIL SAMMY" BAVELLI. •BONNIE" DUNDEE thinks the murders were committed bv one of * people, guests In both homes at the time of the murders. Nlta banked SIO,OOO since her arrival in Hamilton, which the police think was her pay for double-crossing Savelll. and which Dundee thinks Is blackmail. The Possible case against FLORA MILES Is atrong. He reasons It this wav: After paving blackmail to Nlta. Flora sees a note to Nlta on Tracey's stationery, and thinks Nlta has told her secret. In desperation. she snoots her. hides the gun on ♦he secret shelf In the guests 1 closet, and returns to destroy the note. . Finding It is from Sprafrue. she faints In horror Just before the body Is discovered. Miles, who returns later to the Selim house to take LYDIA. Nlta's maid and heir, home with him. has opportunity to remove the gun. If Flora has confessed her crime „ He himself could have killed Sprague from outside lust after his guests leave if Brrague Is threatening to expose Flora. . Dundee learns that Miles was rushed Into the engagement by Flora, an Intensely passionate girl, who scared off her nrosoective suitors. PENNY CRAIN assures Dundee he Is on the wrong track. Arriving In New York. Dundee asks at the store where Nlta bought the dress that was her shroud, for the date of the 6ale. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE As soon as he had registered at a hotel near the Pennsylvania station, and had shaved and breakfasted. he took from his bag a large envelope containing the photographs Carraway had made of Penny alive and of Nlta. dead, both clad In the royal blue velvet dress. In the envelope also was the white satin, gold-lettered label which the dress had so proudly borne, “Pierre Model. Copied by Simonson's, New York City. Half an hour after he was showing the photographs and the label to a woman buyer in the French salon of Simonson’s, one of New York’s most “exclusive” of department stores. “Can you tell me when the original Pierre model was bought, and when this copy was made and sold?” he asked. ft a o THE white-haired, smartlydressed buyer accepted the sheaf of photographs Bonnie Dundee was offering. “I’ll do my best, of course,” she began briskly, then paled and uttered a sharp exclamation as her eyes took In the topmost picture. “This is Juanita Leigh, isn’t it? ... But —” she shuddered, “how odd she looks—as if—” “Yes,” Dundee agreed gravely. “She was dead when that picture was taken. Did you know Mrs. Selim?” “No,” the woman breathed, her eyes stil bulging with horror. “But I've seen so many pictures of her in the papers. ... To think that it was one of our dresses she chose for her shroud! But you want to know w'hen the dress was sold to her, don’t you?” she asked, brisk again. “I can find out. We keep a record of all our French originals and of the number of copies made of each. “Let me think! I’ve been going to Paris myself for the firm for the last fifteen years, but I can’t remember buying this Pierre model. .. . Oh. of course! I didn’t go over during 1917 and 1918, on account of the war, you know, but the big Paris designers managed to send us a limited number of very good models, and this must have been one of them. Otherwise, I’d remember buying it. ... If you’ll excuse me a moment—” When she returned about ten minutes later, Miss Thomas brought him a penciled memoradum. “This Pierre model was imported in the summer of 1917, several months in advance of the winter season, of course. “Only five copies were made —in different colors and materials, naturally, since we make a point of exclusiveness. The royal blue velvet copy was sold to Juanita Leigh in January, 1918. “I am sorry I can not give you the exact day of the month, but our records show the month only. I took the liberty of showing a picture of the dress to the only saleswoir*** in the department who has been with us that long, but she can not remember the sale. Twelve years is a long time, you know.” “Indeed it is,” Dundee agreed regretfully. “You have been immensely helpful, however, Miss Thomas, and I thank you with all my heart.” “If you could just tell me—confidentially, of course,” Miss Thomas whispered, “w r hat sort of clew this dress is ” “I don’t know myself!” the detective admitted. “But,” he added - to himself, after he had escaped the buyer’s natural curiosity, “I intend to find out!”

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BEFORE he could take any fur- , ther steps along that particular path, however, Dundee had an appointment to keep. After arriving at his hotel that morning he had made two telephone calls. He smiled now as he recalled the surprise and glee of one of his former Yale classmates, now a discouraged young bond salesman, with whom he had kept in touch. “You want to borrow my name and my kid sister?” Jimmy Randolph had chortled. “Hop to it, old sport! But you might tell me what you want with such intimate belongings of mine.” “You may not know it,” Dundee had retorted, “but young Mr. James Wadley Randolph, Jr., scion of the famous old Boston family, is going to visit that equally famous school, Forsyte -on - the - Hudson, to see whether it is the ideal finishing school for his beloved young sister, Barbara. . . . She’s about 15 now, isn’t she, Jimmy?” “Going on 16, and one of Satan’s prize hellions,” Jimmy Randolph had answered. “And the family would be eternally grateful if you could get Forsyte to take her, but make them promise not to have any mor chorus girls who plans to get murdered, as directors of their amateur theatricals. “Bab would be sure to be mixed up in the mess. ... I suppose that’s the job you’re on, you flat-footed dick, you!” The second telephone call had secured an appointment at the Forsyte school for “Mr. James Wadley Randolph Jr., of Boston,” and Dundee, rather relishing his first need for such professional tactics, relaxed to enjoy the ten-mile drive along the Hudson. It was a quarter to 12 when his taxi swept up the drive toward the big, gray-stone, turreted building, i sedately lonely in the midst of its valuable acres. “Miss Earle says to come to the office,” a maid told him when he had given his name, and led him from the vast hall to a fairly large room, whose long windows looked upon a tennis court, and whose walls were almost covered with group pictures of graduating classes, photographs of amateur theatrical performances, and portrait studies of alumnae. Avery thin, sharp-faced woman of Rbout 40, with red-rimmed eyes which peered nearsightedly, rose from an old-fashioned roll-top desk and came forward to greet him. “I am Miss Earle, Miss Pendleton’s private secretary,” she told him. as he shook her thin, clammy hand. “I should have told you when you telephoned this morning that both Miss Pendleton and Miss Macon sailed for Europe yesterday. We always have our commencement the last Tuesday in May, you know. . . . But if there is anything I can do for you ” “I should like to know something at first hand of the history of the school, its—well, prestige, special advantages, curriculum, and so on,” Dundee began deprecatingly. u u tt “T SHOULD certainly be able to A answer any question you may wish to ask, Mr. Randolph, since I have been with the school for fifteen years,” Miss Earle interrupted tartly. “Then Forsyte must take younger pupils than I had been led to believe, Miss Earle,” Dundee said, with his most winning smile, “I never was a pupil here,” the secretary corrected him, but she thawed visibly. “Os course, I was a mere child when I finished business school, but I have been here fifteen years—fifteen years of watching rich society girls dawdle away four or five y£ars, but just because they’ve got to be somewhere before they make their debut. “But I mustn’t talk like that, or I’ll give you a wrong impression, Mr. Randolph. Os its kind, it is really a very fine school—very exclusive; riding masters, dancing masters, a golf ‘pro’ and our own golf course, native teachers for French, Italian, German and Spanish. Oh, the school is all right, and will probably not suffer any loss of prestige on account of that dreadful murder out in the Middle West—” “Murder?” Dundee echoed, as If he had no idea what she was talking about. “Haven’t you been reading the papers?” Miss Earle rallied him, with a coquettish smile. “But I don’t suppose Boston bothers with such sordid things,” she added, her thinlipped mouth tightening. “Miss Pendleton was all cut up about it, because Mrs. Selim or Jua-

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SATURDAY’S ANSWER i [q'O’FH^BßiAnT^SrAhrVrl

nita Leigh, as she was known on Broadway, had directed our Easter play the last two years, and the reporters simply hounded us the first two days after she was murdered out in Hamilton, where a number of our richest girls have come from—” “By Jove!” Dundee exclaimed. “Was the Selim woman connected with this school, really? ... I only read the headlines—never pay much attention to murders in the papers—” “I wish,” Miss Earle interrupted tartly, fresh tears reddening her eyes, “that people wouldn’t persist in referring to her as ’that Selim woman.’ . . . When I think how sweet and friendly she was, how—how kind!” and to Dundee’s surprise she choked on tears before she could go on. “Os course, I know it’s dreadful for the school, and I ought not to talk about it, when you’ve just come to see about putting your sister into the school, but Nita was my friend, and it simply makes me wild ” “You admired and liked her veiy much?” Dundee asked, forgetting his role for the moment. “Yes, I did! And Miss Pendleton liked her. too. And you can imagine how clever and popular 6he was, when a wonderful woman like Mrs. Peter Dunlap, who was Lois Morrow when she was in school here, admired her so much she took her to Hamilton with her to direct plays for a Little Theater. “Why, I never met any one I was so congenial with!” the secretary went on passionately. “The girls here snub me and make silly jokes about me behind my back and call me nicknames, but Nita was just as sweet to me as she was to any one —even Miss Pendleton herself!” a a a “\\ FERE you with her much?" VV Dundee dared ask. “With her much? ... I should say I was!” she asserted proudly. “I have a room here, live here the year ’round, and both years Nita shared my room, so she would not have to make the long trip back to New York every night during the last week of rehearsals. “We used to talk until 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning—say!” she broke off, in sudden terror. “You aren’t? a reporter, are you?” “A reporter? Good Lord, no!” Dundee denied, in all sincerity. Then he made up his mind swiftly. This woman hated the school and all- connected with it, had grown more and more sour and er.vybitten every year of the fifteen she had servqd there—and she liked Nita Leigh Selim better than any one she ever had met. The opportunity for direct questioning was too miraculous to be ignored. So he changed his tone suddenly and said very earnestly: “No, I am not a reporter, Miss Earle. But I am not James Wadley Randolph Jr. I am James F. Dundee, special investigator attached to the office of the district attorney of Hamilton, and I want you to help me solve the mystery of Mrs. Selim’s murder.” It took nearly ten precious moments for Dundee to nurse the terrified but obviously thrilled woman over the shock, and to get her into the mood to answer his questions freely. “But I shan’t and can’t tell you anything bad about Nita!” she protested vehemently, wiping her redrimmed eyes. “The papers are all saying now that she got SIO,OOO for double-crossing some awful racketeer named ‘Swallowtail Sammy,’ but I know she didn’t get the money that way! She was too good ” “From Nita’s confidences to you, do you have any idea how she did get the money?” Dundee asked. Miss Earle shook her head. “I don’t know, but she got it honorably. I know that! . . . Maybe she found her husband and made him pay alimony ” Dundee controlled his excitement with difficulty. “Did she tell you all about her marriage and divorce?” Again Miss Earle shook her head. “The only time she ever spoke of it was last year—the first year she directed our play, you know. I asked her why she didn’t get married again, and she said she couldn’t —she wasn’t divorced, because she didn’t know where her husband was, and it was too expensive to go to Reno. “Os course she may have found him or something—and got a divorce sometime this last year, and this money she got was a settlement ” “She must have got a divorce, since she was planning to be married again to a young man in Hamilton,” Dundee assured her soothingly. “The way everybody puts the very worst interpretation on everything, when a person gets murdered!” Miss Earle stormed. “If poor Nita had | belonged to a rich family, like the girls here, they would have spent a : million to hush up any scandal on ! her! . . . I’ve seen it done!” she added, darkly and venomously. (To Be Continued) Berlin is experimenting with I cleaning the oil films caused by I motor vehicles from its streets with i jets of live steam generated by a i portable boiler.

TARZAN AND THE LOST EMPIRE

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Holding his position with his legs and one arm, Tarzan, with his free hand, sought his dagger. Numa became frantic. He reared upon his hind legs and threw himself on the ground, rolling upon hi- antagonist. Then Tarzan found his dagger and drove the thin blade into Numa’s side.

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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Again and again the knife struck home, but each blow only seemed to increase the savage efforts of the lunging beast to 6hake the man from him and tear him to pieces. But then he began to sway dizzily. The L V struck deep again. The lion lurched forward *nd fell lifeless on the crimson sand.

—By Ahern

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Tarzan of the Apes leaped to his feet. The savage personal combat had stripped from him the last vestige of civilization. It was no English lord who stood there with one foot upon the head of his victim. It was a man-beast, who raised his head and voiced the savage cry of the bull ape, a cry that stilled the crowd in fear.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

In an instant the spell passed. Tarzan cleaned his dagger and the shadow of a smile crossed his face. While the people cheered themselves hoarse, Caesar whispered to the prefect of the games. Trumpets blared for silence. The prefect announced, “There will be one more event to show Tarzan’s skill.”

PAGE 9

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin