Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 71, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 August 1931 — Page 5

'AUG. 1, 1931_

7 iQdtrtf LidPP

BEGIN HERE TODAY UANE BARRETT. 18 and beautiful. *n vain to foriret VAN ROBARD. F Do '° Plover, when hi* cneaseJPnt it announced to MURIEL LADD. sM*r debutante. Llane'a mother, CASS BARRETT. Is an actress and it is f. UP* CaW engagement in stock at a lasntonable Lone Island summer colony ttw Barretts meet MRB. CLEE3p AUG H . wealthy widow. When Cass goes on tour in the fall Llane becomes Mrs. Cleespaugh's social secretary. CLIVE CLEEBPAUOH. the widow's only son. asks Lianc to marr.hlm, Clive can not inherit his lather's fortune unless he mames before he Is 25. Liane accepts, agreeing the marriage *s to be a matter of form only. Robard. whose moods are changeable, asks Liane to break the engagement, but she refuses. TRESSA LORD and her Sister. MRS AMBERTON. come to visit the Cleespaughs and Tressa. who wants to marry Clive, begins to make trouble for Liane. She connives with a gang of blackmailers. but a friendly nollse lieutenant. SHANE McDERMID. Interferes. At the fashionable hunt ball Liane is kidnaped to be held for ransom. She is rescued by MeDermid and Clive. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE fContlnued) With a sudden movement Liane Vas at the door. She wrapped the voluminous folds of ermine around her. She signaled the Frenchwoman to follow her. Like a princess of the blood she took charge of the situation. Her voice was cool, 6tea4y. Her hand no longer trembled. “You needn't bother. Miss Lord,” she said. “We shall manage. You’d better hurry or you'll be late for my wedding.” Tressa laughed, but there was no *Rirth in the sound. "I wouldn’t miss that for anything,” she sneered. Defeated, with smoldering eyes, she watched them drive away. As the big car swept out of sight she said fiercely, “I hope she never reaches there alive.” an a OLD ladies turned their heads to w-atch her as she passed. The whisper ran from mouth to mouth, “Lovely! Lovely!” Liane heard none of it. She moved like a somnambulist along the aisle, her arms just resting on Clive’s black sleeve. The ceremony was ended. On the third finger of her left hand where the glove was stripped away a platinum band studded with diamonds rested beside the glittering headlight of a stone that was her engagement symbol. The choir played the music softly, triumphantly. There was an insidious quality about that music. The Mendelssohn march. Sentimental wedding guests wiped their eyes openly with their cobwebby handkerchiefs. There was something ethereal, something not quite of the world about this particular bride. A transparency of skin, perhaps, a luminosity of the eye. Whatever it was, the wedding guests decided she was charming. “A nobody, my dear, but quite lovely. Clive has money and position enough for two. What does it matter?” It was all over. It was real. She had her mother’s blessing. Now in the car with her husband she faced the reality at last. He stooped to her, brushed her lips with his own. “Sorry, but they’ll think it queer if I don’t,” he had muttered softly. She had later a hazy recollection of a long table glittering with silver and crystal. Os someone pouring champagne into a graceful glass. Os her own lips touching it. She heard the polite toasts. She flung her bouquet of white orchids from the top of the stairs. The dreamlike quality of the occasion persisted although she knew in her heart that all this was real. Then she was in her own room again and the maids were assisting her out of her finery, laying out the pale beige frock and the sable coat for her going away. At the last the girl had a word for Cass. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she said brokenly. “I never meant to, no matter what I did.” Cass was troubled at this obscure apology. “You never did in all your life,” she cried. She smiled, putting it all down to the child’s natural emotion at le'avetaking. “You were always the best, the sweetest —” she muttered. She turned up the corners of her lips resolutely. What a fool she was letting the child go away weeping! “Dry your eyes,” she commanded with mock severity. “What will Clive think if we send him off with a red-eyed bride?” * Cass reflected with some satisfaction that she was glad that dreadful man Robard had not come to the church. She had been afraid he

HORIZONTAL YESTERDAY’S ANSWER a reel 1 npJJr in 6XaS |A|L|I|A|SI rC]Afß[£lL] [sOyl * 2 Sleeveless garRELIC OL _!_V£ TQIE m°ntS--14 vie q( rr-in TALLY PATEN qr A 13 Birds crops. 13 Bum. as a CLZZLYESiSISOrR UToie„. ,l,ad bo, iv. Ep I BLEgpwFT > Anaasthettc. 15 Valuable PAN Q A N|lm AIR V ITO D 19 Active. , property 1 L L_F 20 Lavish. 16 Age. ICOIL|QjR|AjD|OML[A|GppN 23 Performed., 17 Whitish gray lU SIEJBS AIRISIeIn S' 24 Banal, is Buttress. IMEII OINSWOH I 10l 27 Rodent. 19 Letter tax _!_ VA” N 0 R|S E. OrIgIFISJ 29 Silkworm. mark. TEN E AjS E SI EVE 32 First high 21 Story. ENO Re. M|AN lEiATE N priest of 22 Sea eagle. Israel. 23 Obliquely. Pol<? expedi- VERTICAL 33 Superlative. 25 Sheltered tton? 1 Craving. 34 Instigated, place. 40 Aeriform fuel. 2 Storehouse for 35 Divides in two 26 Probes. 42 Dissimilar. weapons. equal parts. 2S Native metal. 44 Blackbird. 3 o gle. 37 Funeral song. 30 Railroad. 45 Merriment. 4 Upright shaft 3S Combined. 31 Tardier 47 Indian s boat. 5 Morin(lin dye /39 Vampire. 32 Ablaze. 48 Ado gThonirte-1 41 Dubious. 34 Exclamation of 49 To elude. 43 Prophetical, inquiry. 51 Baking dish. play ‘ 46 Paradise. 36 Two fives. 52 Malevolence. ‘ Second note. 4s Mast. 37 Submarine 53 Insanity. 8 Wine vessel. 50 To conclude. is the 55 Yeast. 9 Former time. 52 To ha-den. ship of Sir 56 Trustee. 10 Chemical. 54 Seventh note. Wilkins’ North 57 Abhorence. 11 One who tends 55 Sixth note.

I 2"" 3 4 5 I 16 17 18 19 110 111 -fcf " ',4 Is ~~~ ]g|p * BHgiT" " iS 1 IffljlQ eoTgggT"" ~ 2?. WF* — 26 27 ; Bcb ’ —l sp • ™ ■ graP 5 W p 1 35 S 3s ““ISHp© 40 " ' jggHph * : 53““ Hi Mll mI 11 r

would. She had seen his name on the list of wedding guests. Well, she had been wrong to think Liane was interested in him. She had not wanted her to have anything to do with that clan. How silly she had been to worry! There had been nothing to it. “This day is a climax in my life,” Cass thought “Everything I hoped for has come Liane. Love, security, happiness. “Oh, it was more than she had hoped for I really. Yet how changed the child | seemed. How quiet and repressed, j Cass shrugged away her momentary I anxiety. She would not let herself ibe fanciful. Everything was splen- ■ did. Everything was as it should be.— CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR AS the newly married pair drove through the village the Christmas carolers wandered through the snow. “Noel, Noel, oh night divine, Oh night divine, oh night when Christ was born.” Along the road, lights glimmered frostily, the blue and crimson and silver of lights on little trees in friendly houses. The world was very beautiful. A plane zoomed above the travelers, its motor throbbing iij the night symphony. “Do you mind,” Clive asked, “if we stay at the Bleeckman tonight? I didn’t tell any one where we were going, but I thought we might start south tomorrow if you liked. You said you’d never been to Florida I think. Does that suit you?” “Anything,” Liane agreed. She was conscious of an overpowering lassitude. The suite into which they were presently shown was suave in pale green damask and French prints. Liane scarcely noticed all this. Her things were laid out on the painted bed with the damask coverlet when she came in from the sitting room. The blond satin night robe with the darker lace, the negligee of sleeves dripping more of the same, the mules crusted with gold. “Anything more, madame?” asked the demure girl in uniform. Liane said no, flushing under the maid’s interested scrutiny. “For two pins,” Clive said genially when the door had closed behind her, “she’d phone the reporters our headquarters. Only I got there first. I bribed her myself.” Liane stood before the oval mirror rearranging her rumpled hair. “We can dine up here,” Clive said from the doorway. “Unless you’d rather go downstairs.” She turned, catching his intent gaze upon her. “Oh, here,” she murmured. “It would be much pleasanter. Although why we should dine at all, I don’t know. Certainly I’m not hungry.” “I am,” Clive announced. “I’ve eaten nothing all day and I’m ravenous.” Menus were consulted and presently a trio of solemn waiters arrived bearing small trestle tables arrayed with silver, covered dishes. Liane had thought she would net be able to touch food, but her healthy young appetite asserted itself and she ate with zest. tt tt n IT was 10 o’clock when the tables were borne away, the check with its appalling total signed. “A family might live for a week on that amount,” Liane marveled. Clive laughed at her naivete. “Ah, but they could! You don’t know what it is to be poor.” She regarded him with a gravity he found utterly charming. “You’ll never have that particular sort of bad time again,” he reminded her. She smiled at him. “I don’t know why you’re so good to me,” she began, and broke off, coloring again. It was difficult, keeping their discussion on the impersonal basis they had planned. Clive said abruptly, “You’re tired. Better turn In, hadn’t we?” The "we” startled her. “Yes. I suppose we should.” She rose. In the pale green room, the door shut against him, she paused. She caught the filmy night things to her and fled into the bathroom, where, in a maze of jade and onyx, she bathed and brushed out her tumbling hair. With the flowing robe of biscuit stuff clutched around her, she trailed across the boudoir, timidly opened the door. The sitting room was quite empty. She called, “Clive. Oh, Clive.”

The very sound of her own voice terrified her. Braces dangling, his broad shoulders looking broader in the stlfT white of his shirt, he appealed in the stiff white of his shirt, he appeared in the other doorway. “Yes.” He said it quietly as one might speak to a child. “I—l just wanted to say good night.” He came toward her, so big, so tall, so stern-lipped, “That’s right. I forgot.” He bent and touched her hand. “Our agreement holds,” he said in a curious voice. “You keep your part of the bargain. I’ll keep mine.” He wheeled and the door closed on him. Liane heard the lock click faintly. In her own room she looked curiously at the hand hs had held for an instant. Strange while hers was cool and steady, his had been trembling! u tt m SHE awoke to a sense of drama and danger. The strange room, the drawn damask curtains, her frock folded across the back of a Louis XIV chair, all brought her back to the present. “I was married yesterday,**'’" she reminded herself. She stretched, luxuriating in the big bed, the fine linen, the mauve coverlet. She threw these aside and swung herself over the edge, cramming her toes into those gilt crusted mules. A knock sounded at the door. ’Before she said “come,” she dived frantically into the folds of that exquisitely fashioned negligee. “Come!” she called again, appalled at the prospect of a strange man in her room. A housemaid, not the one of the night before, appeared. “Mr. Cleespaugh said you might be wanting me.” “Oh, yes, I do. Will you have this pressed for me, please?” “Mr. Cleespaugh said to tell you breakfast will be up directly. He has gone out, but will be back in a moment,” parroted the servant. “Thank you.” The tone dismissed her, but the maid lingered pretending to straighten a curtain. She studied Liane with a covert glance. The dress had not been returned when Clive came back and so, with an apology, Liane presented herself at the table in the lacey robe. “I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured. “Mind!” He laughed at her openly. “You look exactly as a bride is supposed to look.” His laugh had a touch of bitterness in it. “Don’t mistake me. I went into this with my eyes open. You agreed to this as a sort of business arrangement. I knew you cared—or thought you cared—for Van. And that you thought it was hopeless.” He sat down. “Here, let’s begin. Unless I’m spoiling your appetite. Don’t let me do that. We’ve got to straighten this out . “I exepeted only a few things of you. Loyalty, an appearance of happiness. It ought to be easy. I’ll not interfere.” She, interrupted him, her head high. “I’m willing to give all of that. You know that.” “I was going to say I’d not interfere with any of your Only this. Steer clear of Van. He’s bad medicine.” (To Be Continued)

STKKLFft| Can you cul out and rearrange the it above pieces to form a heart?

Answer for Yesterday

ffTTITIT 1111' ilsßl ' • ■ I I I ii| • ii f h- - _ Cut along the heavy lines in the upper 1; design and place in the positions shown ’ in the lower design. A perfect square of four pieces results.

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

“Then Gobred built here a city and a strong castle to defend the entrance to the valley,” continued Sir Richard. “This was to prevent Bohun from returning to England until they had accomplished their mission. And Bohun crossed the valley and built likewise, to prevent Gobred from pushing on to where the latter believed the true Sepulcher lay. And here, for seven and a half cefituries their descendants have continued the feud.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

■’ la sT, Muiirre we IIJF mV uloK'D, ol | 3 • ro-F-TH’ LUMBER Sf -THEoMLY rfßicK 75. v/qli sasV jfv Possible. U Io VI US’ DQUlki J\ if ° F VoU 1-r AAtn z V (C,r rc " & K GE-fTiMo GiiT TJf. rTus' YDS "WE >csf HERe-roMiarif idTH* OWLS CLUB f tffvqprfAL. Q V IS Oil A CLAM. BAKE i IK LETCHER' (OUE OFF -fOAiIG <f Y 6GAD, i V- _ k Eli ALi T YOU’RE. J VOS MUS-TtSO / / rep-To

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

_ H VNHATSVER it is, its Iff 7|> ISi=ARIN<S l/k CODING THIS VJAy...- X’AB 3DIWS TO Else UP AM’ If !* A SMAPPIhks j I T AvdS A PEEK..-.IT MKoHT if ,t • \ AND 1 J OSCACi- BOY/ "j <j CPAOfIMS OF • '* OOLO IS • r i. 8£ A I I Lai BELIEF? J’l • NEARBY Ijy,'| lire ground J

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

SALESMAN SAM

f Yessr/Z /wmr cpiM f Do\ OH, rn.„ ona Ya ? u/MATfeve/e Ya / vass You „ HP,v/hc-pur- vje. Have, rr — / s/m howdy? CHAseo Tue f Hope. / r'Y. PlfiitJaGeneNT w v ' OP f/ MUSSLSBOUtfP /S)</ // . /7 7fi<EFf*notJS-p V u \

BOOTS ANb HER BUDDIES

?Efc>S OTOtWED raff W\\_Ut V\AO to *L . 1^ ■TO WEPOCrt top i LOOK I

® mi, by Edgar Rice Burroughs lac. An right* rwerred.

“Gobred took the title of Prince and Bohun that of King. These titles have been handed down from father to son. Gobred’s men still wear their crosses upon their breasts and so are called ‘Fronters.’ The followers of Bohun wear crosses upon their backs, hence are called ‘Backers.’ But long since both sides have given UP hope of going on or turning back, for we be surrounded by a vast army of Saracens.”

—By Ahem

%W3B W a woman// i i TV mat yjwat i vouldnt 41 a \ \ TUE HOPES Jam-h wmah?? j L Z • | ■' t Jyt V y gH93I BT nu SCWVTCt. IWC. RtG U. S. PAT or*.

TTmTs V flii OVER. 7si ~Rr5Hr' 1 /He W-L CiV&R. / J ) CHOOsT vum m/m/t;

Blake, amazed at such a strange state of affairs existing in the twentieth century, remained thoughtfully silent. “Thinkest thou not that we are wise to remain here under such stress?” demanded Sir Richard. “Well,” said Jimmy, “you’d certainly surprise ’em if you rode into Jerusalem or London this day and age. I’d remain here, were I you. The home folks may have forgotten you after seven and a half centuries.” thou speakest wisely, James,” said

PUT OUR WAY

- *nE. mighTa O’fUese. hard ‘ \( PAQ~VOO cm \ *ThW wOPKikj- winES i j TAKE MIS LuMCrt ' hAOm' OF CAUGHT i COULD &EE. TvHEQ ■ ■ H -To HIM VOuftSEtF. evTTW DOWN- HARD wOßvdsl' *— HE-'u. BE GLAD / Lie c- /-or A q E p AT | i *T =F_E WOO- / CTO - A r ” /vNOPt*. -TWE.Y V n FOQ / VHOOV-OMT BE /T\ J \ A ] ASHAM6D TO AS*< ~—V .. j A I VMOPKiNi mao an 1 J p A p A CA pp^ ¥/?=■"* 1 4 ’ l HtD UUE To A BABw uPTO J ! v^

fT_ / MOVJOND6U 1 . X TT FOLKS ARE Altus TfttXlM' S. °' D,4T W comfocts op home. \ TURN! TW •SHOVJEU J jj Wmg QBE 1 . I D(JNNO—■ SOMETIMES t /A OFF AU-TvV LIAV. / Th\NK l O' MAvIE. TW COMFORTS i\ I'LL y rpY PSa OF A Bo* CAP. OR A GOOD OLD AAV i ij/\ MFYI / I ! ETACK. at tEAST 1 NEvIER. HAD

I 1 6E& TO REPORT, e\R. fljf WONtST V6o£>A, 'PWACE - I COOLOKiV \ , .....................

1 s? '" \y® NE* SEKVIcCIWC. REG- U3. PHTOfT. _ - ~ $-wg/i^

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

%.t ri>*u*j jf j

“Anyway, we know no other country and are content.” For a while both men were silent. Blake was the first to speak. “This big tourney interests me,” he said. “When does it take place? Do you think I could take part in it? I’m getting better with my lance every day.” Sir Richard looked sadly at him and shook his head. “Tomorrow thou wilt be dead,” he said. “Say, you’re as cheeful as a buzzard,” exclaimed Blake. “I am only telling thee the truth,”.replied Sir Richard

PAGE 5

—By Williams

—By Bloss3r

—By Crano

—By Small

By Martin