Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 141, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 October 1931 — Page 18

PAGE 18

Gems of

BKfilN HKRR TODAY R S h °J and MRS JUPITER is robbed and muraerea durlntt an engaaement party uaß&iT&l 11 * for h,r secretary. MARY CAiJIi."? B ®' Marv'* acapegrare brother JODIE Is supposed to have been In the Douse at the murder hour. DIRK RUYTHER. blue-blooded voung lawyer. Mary's fiance, advises her to *eep silent about having arranged to jneet Eddie secretly, until he can locate the bov. Eddie has disappeared. Marv prevents a maid. BESSIE, from telling BOWEN, police reporter for the starf tar about Eddie’s suposed visit. Dirk telephones that >a has found Eddie and Jill take her to sec him that aftertoon. NOW GO ON WITH THF. STORY CHAPTER EIGHT MARY mastered a wild desire to shout at her future mother-in-law. Could nothing crack that magnificent self-assurance? But perhaps Mrs. Ruyther hadn’t known how important the matter w T as. When she finally got through to Dirk, Mary could hear him growling sleepily: “What time is it? Three-twenty? Oh, damn it, why Wasn't I called? Mary? Listen. Get a cab and go to the corner of Third avenue and street. The northwest corner. “Eddie will meet you there at 4. You’ve half an hour, but you may make it if you hurry. Got It? All right run. I'll come as fast as I can.’’ She turned from the instrument, her thoughts twirling. Gloves, bag —she must have money for the cab. Had she enough? Better call Tom. But Tom had been up all night and had just turned In for a little sleep. The other chauffeur alternated in the role of gardener’s helper and was out on the lawn somewhere in dungarees. Better get a taxi. Bowen was waiting for an answer to his request that he be allowed to go with her to meet her brother, but Mary motioned him away absently. “I can't talk to you now,” she said hurriedly, and went out. The newspaper man hesitated, but there was nothing to do but leave, so he followed. Under the portico stood a ramrackle car which Mary, in desperation, was eyeing speculatively. Empty taxicabs don’t ply the Long Island by-roads. She’d have to call up the village, and precious seconds were ticking away. Bowen, observing her dilemma, advanced toward the car, opened the door and paused with a foot on the running board. “I’ll take you wherever you’re going,” he offered. “No fooling,” he offered. “No fooling, I won’t follow you—l’ll take you there and run. I’ve got an edition to catch anyway.” There was no choice. She must hurry or run the chance of missing Eddie. She got in swiftly and they went roaring off toward town at a gratifyingly rapid pace. Bowen was mercifully silent, devoting himself to getting the last ounce of speed out of his decrepit car, and once they were in town, to worming it swiftly through the heavy late afternoon traffic. A block before they had reached the corner Dirk designated, she asked him to put her down. To make up for her obvious lack of trust, she thanked him warmly. “If I do have anything to give the newspapers, I’ll tell you first,” she promised and gave him her hand. Bowen, fishing for a cigaret and watching the slim figure hurry off, was the victim of mixed emotions. Well, he had said he wouldn’t follow, but he could have kic.ked himself for making the promise. He was getting to be a softie, letting a pair of heavily-fringed eyes and an artless look swerve him from the line of duty. tt tt tt BOWEN had seen girls who wore that look of dewy innocence before, in his travels about New York. Later he had discovered to his sorrow that they were “harder cookies” than himself, which was saying a good deal. At least they profited a great deal more from their endeavors than he did from his. From long observation of t*he New York scene, he had learned that the good, the true, and the beautiful are not always what they seem. Yet he was dead sure that Mary Harkness was real. How he knew it, he could not say. It was a crime to let ’ her get away. She had promised him the

HORIZONTAL YESTERDAY’S ANSWER. the weight ot . 5 William Borah I|Ak£ EAB±| SkITT cottoaT is a US. ? QtL I 0 ALATt ytljy 20 Permits. 14 Surface m measure. USX HE SgM AKgQHM parts ot 15 The eye Churches. 17 Having a flat AM E N SMG N UpiT RA D|E| f hreastboue. P OfollT[RA N SmT ■NOW 24 T A *°* is Nothing. TjORS OttaD EML eIATSEI renouncing. 19 What penln- ~TT I CMTpMgEpL~I 27. Spring shrub. ‘ sula Is at the TIR IAD > extreme south H U R|Tr T AjROT ~ T 011 L 29 To imitate, end of Asia? AJI.QE £RIA§E IDEA 32T0 bury. 21 Fowl disease. iflEiNtOl 22 Granted facts. 34 Rightful. 24 Vexed. 40 Night before. VERTICAL 37 To carry Yellow 41 Turned into . 1 Piece ot too far. Hawaiian burnt sugar. confectionery* 38 Ireland, bird. 45 Second note. 2 Melody. 39 Grinned. 26 Malicious. 46 Afraid. 3 Raw skins of 42 Oriental 29 Donkey-like 47 To lease. animals. nurse. beast. 49 Sooner than. 4 Sun god. 43 Capital of ,> JO Mathematical 51 Last. 6 Company. Indian term. 62 Shelter. 6 Valuable Empire. J 1 One to whom 53 A slow white fur. 44 Stalks, land scrip is movement In 8 Extirpated. 4S Close, tssued. music. 9 No. 50 Organ of <4 To expunge. 55 Female fowl. 10 Preposition sound. 35 French mea- 57 Counterfeit. .of place. 51 Exclamation sure equal to 68 Strong 11 Point. of reproach. 46.77 Inches. current. 12 Indolent 54 Grain. 36 Housing. 69 Due acts of 13 Rested. 56 Northeast 39 Let It stand. civility. 16 4SO pounds Is 57 Therefore.

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story though, so he wasn't cheating the paper, he reflected uneasily. But long experience with such promises had taught him to suspect their worth, alas. She’d probably call up some day and tell him her dog was lost and consider she'd given him a sensational story. Most people, and particularly women, he reflected bitterly, had no idea what the newspaper business was all about. Well— if he didn't find a tele- | phone pretty quick, he wouldn’t I make the final with the story he did ! have. He chugged along to the corner, looking for a drug store. There was one across the street. He had to stand and wait outside the only telephone booth the store afforded. Cursing under his breath, he paced back and forth before its closed glass door. His impatience mounted rapidly as a glance into the dark interior showed him that the young man within was not talking—just standi ing with his elbow on the shelf, holding the receiver at his ear. Now and then he jiggled the hook. It was maddening. If he couldn’t get his number, why dind’t the fool hang up? Bowen’s vicious glances presently had their effect or the young man tired of waiting, for soon, choosing a time when the fuming Bowen was glaring into the depths of a cigar counter, he opened the door of the booth and slipped out. Bowen caught only a frightened glance as the boy hurried out. A fat woman who just had come in oozed into the booth, and the reporter gave her a dirty look and set out to find another drug store. Outside he looked about. The boy who had been in the booth stood in the shelter of the doorway, now and then peering furtively out. Just then Bowen’s eye fell on Mary Harkness standing on the opposite corner, looking anxiously about, Bowen stared appreciatively. What a prize subject she would be for the photographers if it turned out that she was what he feared she was—a smart little golddigger too smart to look the part. There would be pictures of her standing, sitting, with legs crossed and—looking through the bars, probably. Hard luck! Why did the mere thought of Mary Harkness tossed in with the rest of the rabble in police court make him feel sick? Little girls with itching palms and “stickup” friends put themselves in the way of such treatment when they set out to get-rich-quick. But the reflection was no comfort to him. Bowen threw his cigaret into the gutter in disgust. It was hell, but he was falling in love. a u tt SUDDENLY the girl’s face lighted up and she ran forward at sight of someone. For a glad instant Bowen believed it was himself. Then the chap from the telephone booth brushed against him as he hurried to cross the street. Bowen caught a glimpse of a tanned boyish jaw, unshaven, and hunted gray eyes, as he looked hurriedly right and left before plunging into the traffic. The blue suit was wrinkled and mussed, and he wore no hat. Mary had rushed to the curb and was holding out her hands. The boy had reached the middle of the street now and stood between two rushing streams of cars. A break in the traffic—one more leap—and he would have reached the other side. The zeal of the news-hunter awoke in Bowen and drowned out every other voice. There, if you like, went the Jupiter murderer—and here Bowen stood! If ever there was a fugitive from justice, that boy looked and acted the part. The reporter hurried across. He had gained the middle of the street, too, and was just a few steps behind Harkness, waiting for a chance to go on, when a long black streak swerved out of its place in line and shot down the middle lane as if heading straight for the boy. A shout of warning burst from Bowen’s lungs. He lunged and tried to grasp the boy, but Harkness had heard and jumped back. The car shot past almost in the same instant, swerving deliberately toward Harkness, who stumbled and

fell backward, striking the pavement at Bowen's feet. tt n a BOWEN, white and sobbing with shock and fury, saw the car take the corenr on a wide swing and 'Shoot away, its number obscured in a cloud of smoke. The boy tried to regain his feet and was rocking drunkenly on his hands and feet. Bowen looked down and saw him slump to the ground and go limp. There was an instant hue-and-cry. A policeman came running—there was no traffic officer on the corner—and someone commandeered a passing cab and took after the vanished car. “Hit-and-run driver!’* The city streets know no more savage rallying cry. But Bowen, who had seen what he had seen, knew better. To him the meaning of the seeming accident was damnably clear. Not careless, but devilishly careful, driving had dealt that death stroke. Someone didn’t want Eddie Harkness to get away. Traffic jammed around them. Mary Harkness, lifting the still body in her arms, lifted stricken eyes that looked about for help. “Ambulance be here in a minute, lady,” someone told her. Bowen was aware that he had been bleating, “He’s all right, he’s all right,” into her ear, in an effort to reassure her. But as he watched iace of the policeman who had his ear against Eddie’s chest, he knew that it was not all right with the boy, and never would be, in this world, again. tt tt ft MARY was aware that an arm went about her and lifted her up. She did not look around. Eddie was all she could think of, lying so still there, looking oddly white through his tan. She had not kept him with her as she should have done and he had come to this. He was dead, and it was her fault. She never should have let him go it alone in spite of his protestations. Self-accusation redoubled in her, reduced her to the pit of despair. Looking around dazedly, as she found a seat in the ambulance, she saw that the man with her was Bowen, the reporter. What did it matter? Everything would come out now. Nothing mattered—Eddie was dead. As the ambulance clanged through magically clearing streets, the siren sounding its hideous wail, Mary wondered if they had caught the car yet, and what would be done with the driver. Surely it had been caught by this time. Surely God wouldn’t let it get away. She prayed, grinding tense palms together. “Catch him! Catch him! ” She slipped her hands out of Bowen’s grasp as the boy on the stretcher moved restlessly and mumbled. Dropping to her knees, she put her ear close to his lips. “No use, lady,” the attendant warned her. “He’s out. Whatever he says, won’t make any sense.” “He mustn’t die, without telling me—” she insisted. Again the lips moved, the boy’s body arched on the stretcher. “Make him give me my coat!” His voice died away weakly. Mary looked at Bowen, but there was only pity in his eyes. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” he told her gently. Mary’s eyes filled and she clutched him frantically. “Oh, Eddie-boy, dear, don’t die!” The attendant picked her up and Bowen drew her to the seat beside him. The two men looked at each other over her bent head. Eddie’s fate was written plainly in their eyes. The boy’s lips continued their mumble and the interne, with a half grin at Bowen, flapped his hand back and forth'as if brushing a fly. “All right, son,” he told the boy Indulgently. "There’s no fly here. Funny how it takes them sometimes.” “Where’s he got it?” Bowen asked softly. “Head,” said the other. The boy moved restlessly and again he waved his hand. “He thinks there’s a fly bothering around.” “Queer. Nerve reaction, probably,” Bowen answered thoughtfully. “Queer he should think of a fly.” (To Be Continued) PLEDGES JOBLESS CARE Missouri in Good Shape for Winter, Governor Tells Hoover. F;/ United I’ress WASHINGTON, Oct. 22. —Governor Caulfield of Missouri has informed President Hoover that Missouri wall be able to care for its own unemployed this winter. Governor and Mrs. Caulfield called on Mr. Hoover to pay their respects Tuesday. Caulfield informed the President of the unemployment situation some time ago in a telegram.

Sticklers on Page 22

TARZAJSf AT THE EARTH’S CORE

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So absorbed was the bird that it did not notice the approach of the enemy at its rear. Tar-gash crept from one rock’s shelter to another until he was within fifty feet of the great Dyal. Tarzan followed close behind, fitting an arrow to his bow. Now the bird's attention was caught by the sound of the men's approach. Wheeling about, it discovered the two rash creatures who dared to interfere with its attack upon its quarry. With a blood curdling and wide distended beak it charged them.* '

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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Tar-gash had commenced swinging his club about his head. As the bird charged, ne launched it at one of those mighty legs. Then Tarzan understood the purpose of the attack. The heavy club would break the ieg bone that it struck. Then the enormous fowl would be at the mercy of the Sagoth. But if it did not strike the leg it meant almost certain death for JTar-gash. Much as Tarzan had come to appreciate his companion’s serfage disregard of danger, this seemed the height of folly.

—By Ahern

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91*81, by Edgar Rice Burroughs Inc. All right, reserved.

The club missed its mark as the engine of destruction bore down upon them. Tarzan’s bow sang and an arrow sank deep into the breast of the Byal. Tar-gash leaped swiftly to one side, and another arrow struck the bird. Then the ape-man sprang quickly to his right as the bird, its speed undimished by the arrows, rushed past. Before it could turn to pursue either of them, Tar-gash hurled a rock which for a moment dazed the creature, and Tarzan drove home two more arrows.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Even as the ape-man did so, the Dyal wheeled toward him and it was doubtful whether either Tarzan or Tar-gash would have lived to tell the tale, if suddenly a great spear had not plunged into the breast of the maddened creature. With that, it went down almost at the feet of the ape-man. Hesitating not a minute, though he did not know the method of attack and defense of this strange bird, Tarzan was upon it with drawn hunting knife.

-OCT. 22, 1031

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin