Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 46, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 July 1931 — Page 5

JULY 3, 1931.

Tfeprt°fLidrie JL MABEL MCELLIQTT / .

BEGIN HEBE TODAY , LXANE UAKHSTI'i. 18 ana beautiful. Jives in a cramped Hew Yor* apartment smb her mother. CASS BARrHTX a rather faded actreaa. On a hot night Uane eoea to dinner with MOLLY CRONIN. a neighbor, and two of Molly • m T%eVe* I la a ahootlng arid the girl la aa a witnea*. She send* a note to ir mother who arrive* and persuade* SHANE McDERMID. the young policeman. In charge, that Liana la Innocent That n nSrht K at the theater where Oasa la nlaylng Llane encounters a handsome stranger who speaks her name. A few days later Cass and Liane go to Wlllo wStream. L. £. where Cass has an engagement in a small summer theater sponsored bv wealthy MRS. CLEESPAUGH. a widow with one son. CLIVE. Llane works In the box office, sharing duties with MURIEL LADD, pretty society girl. At Muriel s home Llane again meets the handsome stranger who spoke to her In t.he theater. He la VAN RQBARD. but when she speaks of him to Cass, her mother makes Llane promise never to have anything more to do with ' wr*. Cleespaugh asks Cass to let Llane atav with her during the winter. Muriel leaves the theater one. evening with CHUCK DEMOND. newspaper man. and Murlel’a mother, believing the two have eloped, asks Robard to find them. Van enlists Llane's aid. The girl la heartbroken later when Elsie tells her &)bard la said to be Mrs. Ladd’s lover. urlel telephones next day from a New York hotel where she has spent the night dlscreetely. Llane tries to forget Robard. Muriel flirts with CURTIS BLUE, stage star. Llane dines with Desmond and finds him interesting. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER ElGHT—(Continued) Desmond surveyed her with Interest. "You’re pretty nice, easy on the eye. How come you haven’t a permanent boy trailing you?” She tossed her head, enjoying herself. “How do you know I haven’t?" "Sorry. I was Just fishing.” Liane thought, "This is good practice for me. Maybe the next time I see Van Robard I won’t be such r school-girlish idiot.” Her heart pounded at the thought, “Next time I see him.” For of course, she would. And soon! mom CHAPTER NINE CHUCK DESMOND could be an entertaining dinner companion. Having summoned a taxi, he handed Liane in with a flourish and demanded to be driven to Wishwaters, the sea-food palace down on the shore. He promised Cass he would have her daughter home in good time for her evening appearance at the theater. It was all very surprising and Liane enjoyed it. The young man talked easily and wittily. His was the vernacular of the newspaper city room, crossed with the world of sports and of Broadway. He was as cynical as a stage manager, in some ways as artless as a child of 6. "Muriel will—well, she’ll crown me for this,” Liane said, laughing as they sat over their coffee. Desmond lifted an interrogative eyebrow. “Says which?” "Oh, all this!” Liane indicated the dancing floor, mirrored and smooth, on which a few early couples were even now executing slow-snail-like steps. The tented top sparkled with lights. Cars were beginning to buzz into the drive, their wheels crunching on the gravel outside. Desmond regarded his cup indifferently. “Nice girl, Muriel, but thoughtless,” he observed drily. "You were pretty sweet to come with me on a last minute bid.” "I Was delighted,” Liane told him. She meant it. “Well, it was my luck. No fooling, I do hate to hang on tho nosebag when I’m alone. There’s genius for you!’ She couldn’t tell ■whether he was laughing at her or not. Not thrilled, not all-over gooseflesh and cold chills running up and down her spine as when she was with Van Robard. Just pleasantly, quietly satisfied with things. Chuck Desmond, who had been given the glad eye from the Battery to One hundred twenty-flfth street, would have been amused at her estimate of him. For his part, Desmond thought, “Good kid;” affably measuring Liane’s pleasant slimness, the significant width between her soft, dark eyes and her engaging trick of listening with a breathless air of concentration. Os Muriel Ladd he scarcely thought at all, except with a mild irritation, as one may who has been “stood up” by a girl just out of finishing school. He dubbed Muriel “a hot number” and considered the characterization complete. “He's not bad looking, really,” Liane summed up her companion. Entirely she overlooked the charms of this devil-may-care young man in the rather noisy suit. “I’ll be seeing you,” Chuck Des-

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mond said, patting her hand as the taxi drew up at the theater. Desmond told the driver to hotfoot it for the station. He would just have time to make the first act of "The Frolic# Well, his evening hadn’t been wasted entirely. m m m ELSIE wanted to know. "Who’s the new boy friend?” Liane said demurely, “My mother used to know his mother.” "Oh. that bologney!” Elsie lost interest. She went on, "D’ye know, I’m kind of sorry we’re checking out of here next month. I’ve got used to the smell of new mown hay mixed with my carbon monoxide and I’ll miss it. Still, there’s nothing like September 1 in Times Square. There’s a feeling in the air—oh, I don’t know —as if something were Just about to happen. Something big.” "I know,” said Liane dreamily. "I know just what you mean, but it seldom does happen.” "Never can tell.” Elsie winked elaborately. "Believe it or not, there are plots hatching around here that don’t meet the eye.” Liane, thinking of her adventure that afternoon, shivered a little. Elsie, not noticing, continued, "That Muriel girl, for instance. Is she a fast worker? Believe it or not, she has little Boy Blue eating out of her hand. Wait till the scandal columns get hold of that. Which Junior Leaguer is that way about what drama star?” “She met him only this afternoon,” Liane protested. “Yes, I know. But what that dame does with twenty-four hours is nobody’s business,” said the cynical Elsie. “Mrs, Blue’s little boy may be hooked before he knows it. He’s not used to these high-pr wered debutantes. “I don’t mind,” she explained, "if she’ll lay off my Clive. But Muriel’s a natural born poacher, and if she thought she could burn me up by going for him, she would.” Liane had heard a great deal of this in the past, so she lent a mildly inattentive ear. “I wouldn’t worry,” she said, absently. “Yes, Mrs. Gridley, of course I’v got your tickets ready.” Elsie took the hint and drifted along in the direction of her dressing room. “Muriel’s supposed to be helping be tonight. What a fake she is as a working girl,” Liane grumbled resentfully to herself as she smiled her set smile, punched tickets and made change. “Poor little rich girl, playing at being useful, that’s what she is.” Muriel’s role of box office assistant had been mostly a picturesque fiction. She appeared late and left early. She never allowed business to interfere with pleasure. Liane couldn’t help being resentful. The work meant bread and butter to her. She could not afford to shirk. The little coop grew stifling as the evening wore on. Liane sat stiff and watchful, smiling her professional smile at the late comers, the women all smartly cropped and heavily scented in their frail chiffons. When the doors flew open at the intermission she caught a glimpse of a dark, lowering face above a dazzling shirt front. Van Robard! He did not even glance toward Liane. The girl with him was small, lusciously blonde. *Her black frock was daringly cut away at the back to show a rounded pair of golden shoulders. She talked animatedly, a cigaret dangling from the corner of her ge-ranium-stained mouth. She looked bored and exotic. a u LIANE’S heart was beating so rapidly it almost stifled her. Os course he must know she was there, but he wouldn’t even look at her. What a fool she was to mind! Oh, she hated him, she hated him! Liane had a sudden wild longing for green fields and cool dark place? where she could bury her face in long grass and weep long and satisfyingly, unheard. Instead, she had to sit there, passive, immobile, in her old gray dress, feeling like a shadow on the edge of the pretty, painted throng. How she envied all these young girls at Willow Stream. They had everything—money, family, that vaunted and elusive thing called background. They could reach out and take

what they wanted in their greedy little jeweled hands with the nico-tine-stained fingers. No matter what they desired, a star sapphire, & trip to Europe, a handsome husband, there almost always was some adoring male to get It for them. What did they know of striving, of heartbreak? What did they know of saving up for a winter coat, wearing some friend's castoff shoes? No, they had their little ermine wraps, their half a hundred Paris frocks, their perfumes, their horses and their planes. No wonder when a fascinating man looked about for a girl to admire he chose one of them. They were so petted, so admired. They had a nimbus of glamor about them. The Cinderellas of the world hadn’t a chance beside such rivals. t She put her head down to hide the rush of tears that threatened to come. A shadow fell across the book in front of her. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word,” warned a menacing voice. "Slide up that window and give me the cash!” The startled girl looked up into somber eyes under a pulled-down cap. Trembling she obeyed. Her fascinated gaze watching the blue barrel of the gun he leveled at her. There was an electric tensity in the little foyer. Two other men, both armed, stood in the doorway. “You people, give us all you’ve got,” commanded one. The women, whimpering, had begun to strip themselves of their rings. One screamed and was ordered summarily by her whitefaced escort to shut up. Liane fumbled at the catch that swung open the barred door of the cage. Underneath the shelf was a short, ugly weapon to be used in case of emergency. She though* quickly. "I can’t budge this,” Liane said, with a child’s querulousness. “You’ll have to come around.” "No funny business, now,” warned the man in the cap, backing off. As Liane opened the door of the coop, she brought her good right hand down suddenly. The invader fell with a thump. u tt tt ALL at once there was confusion in the lobby. A woman shrilled, him.” A gun barked.once. There was a rush and a scurrying. Four men were grappling with the robber, who had fired his gun while the other made a precipitate rush for a parked car. A giddiness swept over Liane. She stood staring at the slumped figure at her feet. “Take him away, somebody,” she moaned weakly. Everything swirled blackly around her. She felt herself falling. When she opened her eyes, Van Robard was bending over her. “Good girl,” he was saying huskily. “You were the best man among us.” She felt those words were her accolade. The girl in the black dress was whimpering. Somebody cheered. Well, she’d showed them, anyhow, hadn’t she? She might be a beggar maid, but she wasn’t a coward. Van was carrying her into the little office now. He was all solicitude, the blond girl forgotten. There was a terrific hubbub all about. A woman was having hysterics. Men were rushing to and fro. Under cover of the noise Van murmured, “Tried to get you to look at me before tonight, but you were absorbed in business.” The look of faint reproach Liane gave him was tinged with mockery. “I saw you,” she murmured. “Hadn’t you better go back to her?” He flushed angrily. The little doctor bustling in with his black bag interrupted their tableau. “Here, here, Mr. Wells thinks I’d better look you over. Any bruises?” (To Be Continued)

STICKERS Can you. uith the five pieces shown above, Form a perfect square? One of the pieces may be cut in two. but the others must remain intact. ‘

Answer for Yesterday

21 / 9 v J_ l JJ •s IT 6 5 4 6 5 7 8 l 9 1 191 8 I / Above are three other ways of arranging the digits 1 to 9 so that the number in the second horizontal row is twice that of the first row and the third row is three times the first row. In the first way you, of course, use 219 —438 and 657 and die second and third ways are worked out accordingly.

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

Blake stood spellbound as he looked upon the ancient symbol in this lonely place. High and weatherworn, the carved letters upon it were impossible to decipher, though they appeared of early English origin. Majestic, hoary with age, it seemed to call upon him to stop, silently, him not to venture beyond it into the unknown. A

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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With a laugh Blake threw off the mood and went on. Another turn in the path and the trail narrowed. Twc huge boulders towered on each side. Cliffs of great height rose above, Blake asked himself where this trail was leading. The instant he passed the two boulders CL huge black stepped out behind him and another in front.

—By Ahem

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Blake’s eyes bulged in astonishment at the costumes of the two blacks. They were dressed in the fashion of the Middle Ages, wearing leathern jerkins and carrying two-handed broadswords. They carried also ancient pikes. "Who be ye?” demanded the negro that faced pigiff i '

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Had the man addressed him in Greek, Blake would have been less surprised. "Doubtless he is a Saracen, Paul.” said the black behind, him, “and understands not.” "Whatsoe’er he be, it is for you to take him to the captain of the finite. I will abide here to guard the way until ye return. Paul Bodkin.”

PAGE 5

—By Williams

—By Blosssr

—By Crano

—By Small

By Martin