Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 81, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 August 1931 — Page 10

PAGE 10

Heart of LimretiMsi

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE fContinued) She wondered almost in terror what sort of a woman she was to be so fickle, so changeable. Only a few months ago Van Robard had ensnared her Imagination. Now that spell was ended forever. Although she thought sometimes of Van with pain and regret, there \vks no shadow of longing In her heart. “We can’t go on like this,” she thought In pity and terror. “If he wants me to let him go. I must be decent enough to do as he asks. He deserves to be happy.” She wondered if Tressa was the one to bring Clive the happiness he deserved. Perhaps she was. Who could say? Many times she nerved herself to the ordeal of speaking to Clive about this, but always the words died on her 'lips before she could shape them. “Tomorrow,” she would say, “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow." She could see that Clive, too, was troubled, absorbed. “He wants to ask me for his freedom and hesitates because he is afraid I am not strong enough,” she mused. “I am. I must be. I must be the one to speak.”

CLIVE had come home to dinner that night. They dined in state at the long table. Liane wore a dress which had been in her trosseau, a soft chiffon in tones of faint blues and lilac. The color had come back into her face. Her cheeks were round again and her eyes bright. Ellen, pleased at having the young pair to wait on once more, tip-toed softly back and forth, bringing delicious food on silver dishes. Liane reflected, “Anyone to see us would think we were the happiest pair. Too bad it can’t be true. At the thought she colored brightly, Clive, glancing across at her, thought how well she looked. “I had a letter from mother today,” he began. “She’s coming home.” “Oh, when?” “First of June, I believe. I left the letter upstairs. I’ll give it to you after dinner.” “We’re not—’ 4 - she hesitated, then continued. “We won’t be staying on here?” ‘Just as you like.” She interpreted the indifference in his voice as coldness. The thought threw her into panic. “What shall I do?” she demanded of herself; ‘Whatever shall I do?” St St St SHE waited until dessert had been served and Ellen had withdrawn. She said then, “It’s to be as you like, of course. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about all this for weeks.” His frown deepened. “All this?” “About us. Plans.” Panic drove her on. After all, he had announced in the beginning that their marriage was to be purely a. business partnership. He had married her to escape the bondage of his mother domineering. Now that he had come into his own, there was no reason they need continue with this empty form of existence. It was a mockery. “I don’t know what you mean, Liane;” He said her name so seldom that the sound of it in his deep voice set her heart to pounding. She said, “I think it is wicked that you still should be bound to me. We’re quits now. You’d be better off without me.” He stared at her. What he thought was this, ‘She means she wants to be free.” “You saved my life,” Liane blundered on. “I owe you that. You have a right to whatever you want. If you are tired of this aramgement, it’s natural enough. I should be the last • one to reproach you for that.” ’She’s thought it all out,” he reflected. “She's trying to save my face by putting It this way.” None of this showed in his face as he answered in a voice strangely harsh, “Just as you like. Perhaps we had better see to the details before mother comes back. We can get it all out of the way without any fuss and flurry,” tt tt tt SHE turned away to hide her tears. What she had expected of this interview she did not exactly

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know. Now she was certain that Clive still was displeased with her. She felt bitterly ashamed. What a miserable creature she was! She had brought nothing but trouble to his house. Even when she had tried to run away, she had shown herself too weak, too helpless, to sustain herself. After Clive left she indulged in an orgy of self-abasement. She thought wildly, “People kill themselves when they feel utter failures, but I have not even courage enough for vhat.” No, she would not kill herself. She had brought sorrow enough to all of them without that. She must make what she could of her life, broken and futile though it seemed. She winced at the thought of Mrs. Cleespaugh’s shocked face when she heard the news. The old lady would be wounded in her invincible pride. Cass would be hurt. Oh, why, why wasn’t it possible to arrange one’s own existence without involving other people? Well, it was all her own fault. She would shoulder the blame, take all the responsibility upon herself. Clive would be free. He might marry again and have sunny-haired, blueeyed children to romp about the big house. She hoped that he would. He deserved to be heppy. At this thought her tears began to flow again. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR THE next day Liane went into Clive’s room and shut the door. The new, very inexperienced housemaid was giving the place its weekly “turning out,” and Liane had passed her on the stairs only a moment before with an armful of Clive’s tennis flannels which she was taking into the kitchen garden to air. Liane stood for a breathless instant quite alone in the big, sunshiny room. She never before had entered its sacred masculine portals. Clive’s big, ebony-backed brushes lay on the linen scarf of the highboy, a row of his boots ranged on a low shelf, glimpsed through the closet door. Beyond could be seen the white bathroom with the huge Eritish towels he loved, the bottle of lavender lotion of which his linen faintly smelled.

Liane touched the brushes with a tentative finger. There was a definite objective of her visit. Certain that the housemaid was chatting downstairs, she tiptoed to the small secretary that stood in the corner and began hastily to rifle the papers there. The object she sought was shortly at hand. She held it up triumphantly to the light. It was a snapshot of a tall, fair-haired young man in riding kit. said, “What luck!” and stuffed it into her blouse. As she turned to flee tn open letter on stiff cream-colored paper with with a modernistic monogram in silver caught her eye. Against her will almost she read the words: “Clive, darling: You were a sweet lamb to take care of all that for me and I never can thank you enough. What ever should I do without you? I shall see you on Tuesday and expect to hear that all our affairs are going nicely. Until then, I am always yours, TRESSA.” Liane stamped one small, suedeshod foot. “Clive, darling,” indeed! How dared she take that tone with Clive? She had n oright. What did Tressa means by “our affairs”? Liane knew from something Shane McDermid had said that Tressa’s hand had been in the blackmailing scheme launched at the night club. She always had suspected Tressa of being involved in the kidnaping on the night of the Hunt ball, although there had been no proof of that. She had positive evidence that Tressa had arranged the meeting between herself and Van that day on the Long Island turnpike, when she had gone for the first fitting of her wedding dress. Now to think that this girl dared to come between her and Clive! The thought infuriated Liane. “She shan’t have him!” she whispered. She "resolved to be sly and wise as a serpent in this affair. a tt AS she came out of Clive’s room the new housemaid trotted up the stairs. In housewifely fashion Liane remarked on. the state of the closets and escaped, the crisp

paper of the snapshot crinkling under the soft stuff of her blouse. The letter she had left as she found it. It was no surprise when Clive remarked next morning that he wondered if she would mind asking Tressa out for a brief visit. “She’s practically out of funds,” he admitted with a laugh which sounded to Liane’s suspicious ears embarrassed. “She’s putting up at a hotel and I’m afraid it’s a wretched place. Not the sort of thing she’s used to. “I thought it might be the decent thing for us to do, considering that Mother has always asked her to stay here when she’s around.” “Os course," Liane agreed, masking her true feelings. “I’ll write her at once.” In his presence she gave orders to have the east room made ready. She had not broached again the subject of their own affairs. Now she was afraid to do so. What if he actually agreed to a divorce and made plans to put it through with dispatch? The thought frightened Liane. Now that she faced the immediate possibility of losing Clive, she appreciated what he meant to her. She deserved, she assured herself nothing better. For so long she had closed her eyes to his charm. v All that day, as she rode in the quiet lanes, as she ate her solitary lunch, she pondered the problem. There were several methods of procedure. She might stake everything on one bold throw. She might tell Clive what she knew and what she suspected of Tressa’s earlier perfidy. She might ignore all that and give the other girl a battle on her own ground. The first plan she rejected. All was fair in love and war she knew, but she shrank from the notion of exposing her rival so shamelessly. No. She just would have to take the chance of beating Tressa at this game. If only she hadn’t provided Clive with an “out” by that suggestion last week that he might be better off free. a a tt WHEN Tressa arrived, bag and baggage, Liane forced herself to show a cordiality she did not feel. The other girl’s greeting, while effusive, held a touch of wariness Liane was quick to sense. “She doesn’t like me any better than I like her,” the girl thought. “She hates me for being mistress here.” “Clive tells me you’ve been ill,” Tressa purred smoothly. “But you look so well I’d not have believed it.” With a stab the thought occurred to Liane that Clive might have confided to this sleek, green-eyed woman the curious sort of marriage he had made. She rejected that as unworthy. Clive was too fine, too honorable, to make confidences concerning her. Still the idea rankled. Were men ever too fine and honorable to tell seductive women secrets? There could be no doubt of Tressa’s seductiveness. Her round cheeks had a peachy bloom. Her exquisitely curved figure was a delight to behold. . -*■- Liane, watching Without seeming to, acknowledged with bitter reluctance, the potency of Tressa’s charm. “No man in his senses would prefer her to me,” thought she. • Still, Clive had chosen her in the first place when Tressa had been at hand. But what did that prove? Nothing at all. Men were fickle, always, and the flower just out of reach was the most desirable. (To Be Continued)

STKKLEfti

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Answer for Yesterday

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TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

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In Tarzan's dim tent Stimbol crept on hands and knees toward the comer where he heard his victim breathing. Inch by inch he advanced cautiously, until his hands touched the sleeping figure. Lightly he groped to find its beating heart. He scarcely dared breathe lor fear he might awakeq the ape-man. How he hoped the first blowrif his weapon would reach that savage heart!*-

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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Now Hfe was ready. He raised his knife and struck. His victim shuddered spasmodically. Again and again, with maniacal force, Stimbol plunged the weapon. Then, trembling, he hurried from the beyt. He could scarcely stand, so terrified and revolted was he by the horrid crime he had committed. Wild-eyed, he stumbled to the mukaad of Ibn Jad and there collapsed just as the Sheik appeared, carrying a lighted paper lantern. *•

—By Ahern

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“What dost thou here?” demanded the Sheik, pretending surprise. “I have done it, Ibn Jad!” gasped StimbQl. “Done what?” cried the Sheik. “Slain Tarzan of the Apes!” muttered Stimbol. “Ai! Ai!!” screamed Ibn Jad. “Tollog! Where art thou? Hirfa! Tteja! Didn't hear what the Nasrany sayeth?” Arabs came streaming toward the place, aroused by his shrill tones. “Didst hear him?” repeated Aibn Jad.

OUT OUR WAY,

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Stunned by this unexpected attitude of Ibn Jad, Stimbol was speechless. “Seize him!” cried the Sheik. “Take him away. Tomorrow we shall decide what we must do. Every one in this land of Danger will be our enemies, now that the great Tarzan is dead.” Boifnd hand and foot, they dragged the terrified Stimbol to Fahds tent and left him there for Fahd to guard. When they had gone the Beduin leaned low over Stimbol and whispered in hi* ear. 1

. AUG. 1931

—By Williams

—By Blosssr,

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin: