Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 134, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 October 1931 — Page 15

OCT. 14, 1931

Gems of Pail - ■■=y M >gM*a/AEic

(Continued from Page 1) unutterably dreary even In such luxurious surroundings as the Jupiter home, separated from the “kid” brother she always had looked after and loved. But Eddie did not like to live where her money paid the rent; it gave her the right to say what he might and might not do. Well, he had been “on his own” for a year now and he seemed to be making it. He had no job, but there was a fair living to be picked up at the race-tracks, he told her, and in other ways he did not elucidate. There yas nothing she could do about it except worry a little and make him promise to come to her first if ever he were in need. She had not seen him of late, but she had been too happy and engrossed in her love-affair to think about it much. a a a JUST now, when it seemed that her happiness had reached its crest, an inexplicable feeling of fear came over her. The world had dropped from beneath her feet once; it might again Staring into the past with tragic, unseeing eye.< she put her hand to her throat, which ached with pent-up tears. Dirk tightened his arm about her, sensing her mood. “Don’t cry, little girl,” he gibed, “you don't have to marry me. I can always jump off a bridge—or marry Greta Garbo.” That wasn’t a tactful thing to say, he realized in dismay even as he said it—that about jumping off a bridge. How had her father done it? Poison, he thought. But Mary laughed—her mood vanished as quickly as it came. Greta Garbo was their name for the girl who never had quite given Dirk up—Cornelia Tabor, of the silk mills Tabors, who had everything money could buy except Dirk, and didn't like it in the least. “It’s a grand party,” Mary remarked with a deep sigh of contentment. “The grandest party, in fact, that anybody I know ever has had. Mrs. Jupiter must be Santa Claus, to have done all this for me.” Dirk miled, but he was not too pleased; ho was in that stage of love In which he was jealous even of her gratitude. If people were to do things for her, he was the one to do them. Nice of the old lady, surely; but from now on Mary was his. “Yes,” he agreed, after observing his hostess judicially from a distance. “She looks rather like a Christmas tree from here.” Mary squeezed his hand in quick pain. “Don’t!” she said. Mrs. Jupiter’s manner of dress might be showy even to the point of vulgarity, but Mary’s loyalty would not let her admit it, even to Dirk. “I know you’re fond of the old soul,” Dark answered reasonably, “but, honestly, where does she get all the doo-dads? And why wear them all at the same time?” Mary caught a glimpse of her employer’s impressive coiffure with its glittering bandeau of diamonds, between the heads of the dancers, and she could imagine the gemhung expanse below. It really was too bad; people talked about it, and poked fun at her. But Mary, who knew why she did it, felt a twinge of shame that other people could not see it, also. It was not because she was vain or fond of show’. “She doesn’t do it because she’s silly, or doesn’t know any better,” Mary defended hotly. “She does it to please Dad. He gave them to her, you know. Those rubies—has she got them on?—are simply priceless. They’re heavy to wear and an awful responsibility. She has to keep a constant lookout for thieves. But J. J. is so proud that he’s rich enough to give them to her, and all the diamonds and other things, that she wouldn’t leave them off for anything in the world.” Dirk was absorbed in watching Mary as she talked; earnestness, and the unusual animation of the moment, became her. His amused estimate of the Jupiters went down under the force of her admiration, which was both sincere and deep. tt tt tt LOOKING down into the flushed, serious face of the girl he loved, he forgot everything for a time except how lovely she was, and that she was his. She had stopped speaking for some minutes before he was aware of it. He drew a deep breath and resumed his bantering tone. “Will you do as much for me sometime?” he asked lightly. “Os course,” Mary laughted, waggling the finger that held her engagement ring under his nose. “Don't I drag this enormous rock around with me all the time, though it nearly wrenches my arm off?” “Don't jeer. Some day I'll turn you loose in the dime store and you can go the limit, my girl!” Just ther. Mary caught sight of Spence’s silver thatch in the hall doorway; his eyes roved the room anxiously. Mary slipped out of Dirk's arms. “I see Spence over there, all at- j witter about something. I’d better go over. Poor Spence, how he hates a mob like this!” Dirk recaptured her hand. “Oh, let him stew.” He was amiable, but firm. “Some chap's probably given him a laundry ticket for a bid. He'll get over it. Serve him right foi giving up a promising career to buttle. Did you know Spence used to be a prize fighter in London? Fact.” “When did you and Spence get so chummy?” “Waiting for you, my love.” Spence by this time had caught Mary’s eye, and by violent exercise of the eyebrows conveyed his urgent need to speak to her. Mary sighed. “I must go see what he wants.” It was hard to come down to earth and remember that for all her Cinderella trappings, she still was a paid employe, with duties to attend to. Dirk whirled her away toward where the butler waited. Mary said: Til be back in five minutes. Go dance with Cornelia, why don’t you? She’d love it,” and laughed wickedly at his grimace of distaste. The butler bent to her ear. “I2*i Mr. Eddie. Miss Mary. He’s on the telephone.” “Eddie? You mean my brother, Eddie?” It came into her mind, Irrelevantly, that it was after midnight. Why should Eddie call her at such an hour?

Dirk had moved off obediently. She saw his dark head threading its way among the throng, saw Cornelia i leave the man she was talki ing to and move off with him, looking terribly pleased. Swift, unreaj soning jealousy smote her; need he have taken her quite so literally at ■ her word? She mustn’t stand here, being jealous where everybody could see j her. What was it she had come over here for? Then she remembered. Putting those two out of her , mind, she went toward the teleI phatae, a strange uneasiness clutch- ’ ing at her heart. it a a MARY turned away from the telephone with deep misgivings. The few frightened, jerky sentences her brother had gasped out filled her with alarm that grew deeper the more she thought about it. Something must be very wrong indeed to have upset her brother’s j cool self-possession in any such manner. If there was anything I Mr. Edward Harkness Jr. had prided himself on since his prep i school days, it was his nonchalance, i “A man of the world”—that was \ Eddie, always. What could have j agitated him so? Mary sat still for a moment, try- ’ ing to think what he trouble might be. Ail that betting on horse races | —it was gambling, of course, and against the law. Eddie had had one or two skirmishes with the police before for the unconventional manner in which he drove his roadster. It might be that—he might have struck somebody, and be running away. The police might be after him. The very thought left her sick with shame and fright. Or he might need money. She tried to think how much she had. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Tell the doorman I’m coming, and to let me in.” Well, what could she do? She had told him to come ahead, but to come round to the side door; she would leave word that he was to be admitted. He could go right up to her room, and she would go later and see what was up. That she had done wrong in permitting him to come here, to seek sanctuary in the Jupiters’ house, without asking their consent, did not occur to her at the moment. It was only afterward, as she sat thinking it over, that she thought about that. But where else could Eddie go if he were in trouble? They had no home, the two of them; she lelt the shame of that. She got up and went back to the ballroom. She must find Mrs. Jupiter or her husband right away and tell them what she had done. She did not really believe that either of them would mind. Afterward, there seemed to be no reason for what she did during the next few minutes —or for what she failed to do. Even to herself, wild with regret and self-accusation, it seemed as if she might have told somebody—found someone to share with her the awful responsibility for what came after. But at the time her reasons seemed excellent. What she did seemed the only thing to do. Tlie floor had cleared during an interval in the dancing and across the room she caught sight of Mrs. Jupiter, magnificent in gold lace and far too many jewels, seated on a divan, watching the dancing with a listless eye. At her side, Mary noticed just in time to check her forward progress, was Dirk’s mother, a pale woman in gray chiffon who seemed to be thinking “Rather a nice party—but horribly overdone!” It would have been easy to go at once to Mrs. Jupiter and tell her her troubles, if it had not been for Mrs. Ruyther. She was, Mary had to admit to herself, a congenial snob, and a priggish one. With Dirk for a son, she never would be able to understand Eddie's peccadilos, or condone them. And Mary felt miserably that she had little enough to bring to her union with the impeccable Ruyther family —just herself and a name that never had been brought to shame. If that scant dowry was in danger, Mrs. Ruyther must not know. a a a MRS. JUPITER did not look any too happy; she looked tired and uncomfortable. The strain of being nice to Mrs. Ruyther was telling on her naturally jolly disposition. From the grimaces she made from time to time, Mary judged with amusement that her shoes hurt, into the bargain. No, she would not add her own trouble to those from which that poor woman was already suffering. Mr. Jupiter would be somewhere about —he would be better able to tell her what to do than his wife would. Mr. Jupiter absented himself from the social scene as much as possible; she knew she would find him outside somewhere, roaming around the grounds, smoking, listening to the music as it filtered out to him. mercifully mellowed by distance. She would go out by way of the terrace, and look all ’round the house. As she moved cautiously along the wall, avoiding the heels and elbows of the swooping couples as best she could, she had to pause once to rub tenderly an ankle-bone which had been the target for somebody's French heel. As she looked up she saw Just ahead of her, in the corner Dirk and Cornelia dancing—if they were dancing. They seemed hardly to move at all. But what was odd was that Cornelia was crying. Mary could see it, even though Dirk's back was toward her, shielding the girl from curious eye. Once he looked about worriedly ana she saw that he looked white and strained. Well! That was a surprise. She hadn't thought Cornelia cared that much, enough to make a spectacle of herself. What in the world should she do —go forward and let them know T she had seen? Her first impulse was to rescue Dirk there and then. Let Cornelia go and cry on somebody else; there were dozens of men present who would gladly dry the tears of the heiress to so many millions. Dirk must feel an awful brute. And that wasn’t fair. On second thought, that would merely make Cornelia hate her. But Cornelia hated her, anyhow, as it was. As she hesitated, Dirk evidently resolved to get Cornelia away before she made a complete fool of herself; holding her arm firmly, he

moved with her toward the wide door opening on the terrace. She reached the door just in time to see them step outside the circle of light from the doorway and disappear into the dark grounds. Mary could have stamped her foot with annoyance—if it had not hurt already. She could not follow them ! out there, even if her errand were looking for Mr. Jupiter. It would be too much like spying. People would see and what would they think? She knew what Cornelia would think, if she bumped into them accidentally—that she was jealous. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction. No, ineed! They could have the terrace all to themselves. SWIFTLY she turned into the flagged corridor which ran along the side of the house to the conservatory, and led Into the back hall. She hadn’t too much time. Better make her arrangements first, and tell the Jupiters afterward. She was so sure of their understanding that it hardly seemed necessary anyhow. So she intercepted one of the maids— Bessie, the comeliest, and therefore assigned to parlor duty—and told her a man would be coming to the side door presently, and to be sure to let him in. Bessie said, “Yes, Miss Mary,” and scurried on. She was carrying drinks out to the chauffeurs, who were clustered about a big car in the back driveway, talking. Mary smiled —she knew with certainty now where Mr. Jupiter was. It was one of the favorite occupations of the old automobile manufacturer, talking with the men who drove cars. Other officials of the Jupiter Motor Company, Incorporated, were only too well aware of it. Whenever they put forward ideas about the Jupiter motor which did not coincide with his sentiments, he was wont to stop all argument by yelling, “And where did you get your information? I’ll tell you where I got mine—from the men themselves!” He had been an automobile mechanic once and it was his boast that he was still one—just that, and nothing more. They might know about stock issues, and the like of that, but he knew carburetors. When he was in that mood, there was nothing more to be said. His interest in motors and in the men who drove them was genuine enough; their talk was his talk. But his wife, among others, thought he sometimes carried it too far. He judged a man by the way he treated a car, for example. Many a friend’s chauffeur, and even some taxi-drivers he had taken a liking to, were now holding good jobs in his plant. On the same basis, he really never had warmed up to Eddie, Mary remembered. Eddie was known as a “wild driver” and that was enough for Mr. J. If it was that again that had gotten Eddie into trouble Mary paused, pinching her lower lip thoughtfully between thumb and finger. She resolved presently that this was a family matter, and why bother any one with it except herself? It really seemed the kindest thing to every one concerned—just to say nothing about it. Later, it might seem very different to other people, but she could not know that then. tt tt tt MR. JUPITER was sitting on the running board of a limousine, surrounded by a group of “his boys.” Some of them looked as if they would like to break away and start a craps game, but were afraid to suggest it. She could hear his voice droning on and on. He was having a good time. A big, foreign-looking limousine stopped a second under the portico, then shot around the circular drive and out again, at a high rate of speed. The uniformed drivers all looked up interestedly, as it circled, then went on listening in respectful silence to the old man’s words. ‘ Lorimor. Special body,” one remarked to another quietly. “Junk,” said Mr. Jupiter, pricking up his ears. Lorimors were his special antipathy. Mary turned and went into the house. Mrs. Jupiter was not in the ballroom any longer; someone said she had complained that her feet hurt and had gone upstairs to change. Mrs. Ruyther had gone home. Mary looked at her wrist-watch, and hurried upstairs Mrs. Jupiter’s sitting room was at the head of the stairs, flanked by her bedroom and her husband's. Mary’s room was at the farther end of the hall. As she paused on the top step to catch her breath before turning back along the corridor, shq heard sounds issuing from Mrs. Jupiter’s sitting room—an angry, snarling voice, a woman’s loud scream, and then two shots in rapid succession. There was the thud of something heavy falling. Then silence. Mary stoou frozen to the newelpost, too terrified to move. “Eddie,” she cried to the closed door, “Eddie, is that you?” (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AT THE EARTH’S CORE

When the fierce battle between the Sagoths ended, the victor leaped back into the tree branches and again commanded! “Remove the bonds from the wrists of the gilak.” This time no one questioned his authority and soon Tarzan was gratefully stretching his numb arms. "If the gilak tries to run away,” said the Sagoth, who was called Tar-gash, “kill him.” Tarzan had expected they would take his knife from him. But they paid no attention to it nor to his other weapons, as if they did not know what these things were for.

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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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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Faintly, from a distance, Tarzan heard something approaching. He heard it just a moment before the Sagoths heard It. “They come!” announced Tar-gash. Now Tarzan knew why the primitive drum had been sounded, but he wondered why they were gathering. When the other Sagoths arrived it was not difficult for the Ape-Man to recognize M’wa-lot, their king. The tree Sagoths descended to hieet the approaching party. After a curious ceremony of greeting was over the king stepped forward. •‘What is that?” he demanded as his fierce eyes espied Tarzan.

—By Ahern

“It is a gilak that we caught in our snare,” replied Tar-gash. “So that is the feast that you called us to?” demanded M'wa-lot angrily. “You should have brought it to the tribe. It can walk.” “This is not the feast the drum spoke of,” replied Gar-gash. Then he related the story of the tiger’s battle with the thag and how they had snared Tarzan. “Nearby is the thag.” M’wa-lot grunted: "Lead us to it. We can eat the gilak later when he shall dance.” They proceeded down the trail. All the shea with balus kept away from Tarzan.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Although he was a prisoner, Tarzan felt strangely at home in this new environment. A short distance ahead of the ape-man walked the king of the tribe. And beside the king was Toyad, the Sagoth who a while back had objected to the freeing of Tarzan. After losing the fight with Tar-gash, the surly brute had rejoined the tribe. Now he was speaking in low tones to the king. Tarzan sensed they were talking about him. Suddenly, without warning, M’wa-lot swung his heavy club and leaped toward the surprised Tar-gash.

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin