Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 289, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 April 1932 — Page 13

APRIL 12, 1932

4 man wunTGR/ m BY MABEL McELLIOTT 01932 BY AJU rrtvict WC.

BSGIN HERE TODAY SUSAN CARETY. stenosripher In th office of ERNEST HEATH, architect, lives with her At'NT JESSIE on Chicro's west tide BEN LAMPMAN. a moodv yonn* musician, admires her and introduce* her to a Bohemian crowd she find* rather tiresome. .JACK WARING, employed In the same office *i Susan, tries to flirt with her. but she dUcouragcs him. Busan find* she |* beginning to care deeply for 808 DUNBAR, young millionaire whom she met at business fchool. NOW no ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWELVE Tj' VERY time the telephone rang fH/ during the next five days Susan's heart raced like a wild thing. But as the days passed hope died. “Surely he’ll call me just once again, to say goodby,” she thought. Her moods veered from wild exhilaration to deepest gloom. At one moment she would be certain that she had been right about the kinship of feeling existing between herself and Bob Dunbar that day at the Blackstone. Again she would be certain she had been completely wrong. The flushes and fevers and chills of first love possessed her. She moved like a person in a dream. Aunt Jessie’s sharpest speeches fell on deaf ears these days. “I declare I don’t know what’s got into you,” her aunt, would say, baffird. Susan scarcely heard her. She never went out on the street at lunch houf, never joined the homegoing throngs without experiencing a sudden wild hope that she would see the face she sought or hear that deep, remembered voice. This was the thought that colored all her days. It made even the hot, tiresome journey back and forth on stifling street cars endurable. Today—lt might be today, she would think! He would telephone and finish what he had started to tell her a week ago. But at last her dream died. That was *he morning Susan read in a newspaper gossip column, the name fairly leaping at her from the printed page, that Boh Dunbar had sailed for Europe. She was so white and still that morning that even Pierson# the stolid bookkeeper, glanced at her with something like alarm. “Guess you ate something that disagreed with you,” he remarked. Susan gave him a look in which envy and contempt were mingled. Fancy being so dull and so fortunate, she thought, as to believe life could be that simple. But the tiresome little man felt an honest sympathy for her, if she only had known it. He was shrewder than she thought and had more delicacy than she gave him credit for. a a a THE long day wore on. “He’s gone, he’s gone,” ticked the clock. “He didn't even say goodby to you.” She went to lunch in a still daze. The men and women in the sandwich shop were shapes in a dream and everywhere, everywhere, boys and girls seemed to walk in pairs. In all that busy mid-summer noonday only Susan Carey was alone. It was 2 o’clock. After countless ages it was 3. She typed steadily, thinking to dull by unceasing effort the pain that racked her head. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Did you —did you speak to me before?” The woman standing outside the office gate was cool, poised, elegant. Her ash blond hair was folded back in

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wings under her smart black hat. Her expression was one of amused disdain. “Only three or four times,” the woman said, her tone suggesting that Susan was not only dull, but inattentive. “The typewriter is so noisy,” the girl began to explain in confusion. Instantly she felt she had said the wrong thing. Her caller’s expression of remote amusement deepened. “It's of no consequence,” she said crisply. “Mr. Heath’s not in, then?” Susan had risen. In her embarrassment she stammered as a child might. “N-no, he’s not. Is there any message I can take?” For answer the woman in black clicked open the gate with accustomed fingers and said fretfully, “I’ll wait. He’s expecting me.” Then, since the girl continued to look surprised, she exclaimed impatiently, “Mrs. Heath.” That was all, but she had reduced Susan to the merest pulp. Her manner had been that of the princess who rebukes the loutish servant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” the girl said in a low voice. But Mrs. Heath already had ensfconced herself in the mast comfortable chair in her husband’s office and did not trouble to reply. Pierson came in, ducked his head in the direction of the privatefroom in an obscure gesture of recognition, and disappeared into his favorite haven, the vault. Susan could hope for no assistance from that quarter. She worked on. Jack Waring slammed open the other door and bustled in, whistling a dance tune. “How’s every little—” he began with customary exuberance. The words died on his lips as he caught sight the still, aristocratic figure in black. “Ah, Mrs. Heath!” His manner underwent a subtle change. The lady gave him a slow smile, but her accents were sweet. “Nice to see you. It’s been ages.”

WARING bowed over her hand. Susan could hear the ripple cf light laughter. In the tail of her i eye she could see the man light a j cigaret held in the woman’s long white fingers. An emerald, big as a roc's egg, gleamed on one of them. ‘‘Cannes —just like every other place—St. Jean dc Luz—home on j the Berengaria—” She could hear | the cool, disdainful voice trailing on. She wondered what manner of woman this was.- Waring's usual gay insouciance was dimmed. He was respectful rather than gay. Susan was ever so slightly amused at this. “She must be what Aunt Jessie calls ‘a regular Tartar,’ to affect him In that way,” observed the young girl to herself. Presently Ernest Heath entered. Susan had a distinct sense of relief. Now her responsibility ended. “My dear, I didn't expect you until tomorrow!” The lady laughed again, not altogether agreeably. She gave the tips of her fingers to her husband and an oblique glance to the younger man. “Ernest is so amusing. He always wants things to happen according to schedule.” And, indeed, Heath seemed annoyed. “I think you might have wired. I certainly should have met you.” He seemed aggrieved. There was

an undertone of real contention In their light talk. Susan tried not to listen. "I always like to give you surprises!” There was an edge to Mrs. Health's tone. “One never knows—” Her voice trailed off and whether unwittingly or not her gaze strayed to the young girl typing furiously at her desk. Susan heard Heath say with some heat that he disliked surprises intensely. She thought that altogether th* meting waa rather odd for a husband and wife who had been separated for months, i After a tactful moment, Waring slipped away and Susan was summoned to Pierson’s cubbyhole to help him check some figures. She grew absorbed in the task and forgot to notice the hum of voices, now low Mhd rather monotonous, in the private office. In an interlude Pierson inquired with a jerk of his head, “How d’ye like her ladyship?” Susan flushed. “She’s very attractive.” Pierson drew down his left eye lid in a grotesque wink. “Some boss, she is! I feel sorry for the old man.” Abruptly he adjusted his expression and began montonously to read figures aloud. Mrs. Heath was leaving. HUH SUSAN heard her name called. Her employer, looking mildly flustered, said, “You’ve not met Mrs. Heath, I believe, Miss Carey." Mrs. Heath looked into space a fraction of an inch over Susan’s head and the travesty of a smile visited her thin, beautifully molded lips. Then she was gone, leaving a drift of expensive, subtle scent behind her. “Whew! Thank God that’s over,” muttered the bookkeeper as the hall door slammed. “We won’t have another visitation for another six months.” Susan smiled, feeling a sense of kinship with the little man. “O’Connell knew how to handle her,” Pierson rambled on, amiably inclined to gossip. “O’Connell had her number. “Don’t,” he warned benevolently.

7TSCDK ~ A DAY" BY BRUCE CAJTQN

“TS Capitalism Doomed?” finds A Lawrence Dennis casting a gloomy and remarkably clear-sight-ed eye at the state of affairs in the United States. He does not give a definite, yes-or-no answer to the question he poses in his title, but he comes close enough—too close, perhaps, for comfort. A vastly modified capitalism, he says, can survive if the government will impose taxes heavier than any wre have yet dreamed of and use the money to give purchasing power to the jobless and bring consumption up to the level of production. Failing that, it might yet get by if the nation got into a good expensive war—something which he thinks is very apt to happen. To be sure, he adds that it is an open question whether any capitalistic regime can ultimately survive another great war; in which case the answer would seem to be, “Good morning, Messieurs Mussolini and Lenin.” Failing one or the other of those alternatives, Mr. Dennis does not think capitalism can live very much longer. Unorthodox and provocative, he has written a book that ought to cause a lot of argument. There will be plenty of economists to disagree with him violently, no doubt; but’ his book is tremendously interesting. If you don't mind being jarred a bit, you ought to find the book extremely worth while. It is published by Harper's and sells for $3.

mCKEfty

i's„ 1 ni.ifiwndU A farmer planted 19 trees in such a way that there were five in a row and nine straight rows. How did he do it? n

Yesterday's Answer

IWeaQiSoMe I VoRaC,ouS v The large letters in the two words are the consonants that were missmz. 13

TARZAN THE TERRIBLE

Mo-sar saw that now every precious moment counted. He looked again at the beautiful woman who stood beside O-10-a, and knew from palace gossip that she could be no other than the godlike stranger whom Ko-tan had planned to make his queen. *Bu-lot,” he cried to his son, ‘ Take your own woman and I will take mine!” With that he sprang suddenly forward, seized Jane by the waist and lifted her in his arms, before either O-10-a or Pan-at-lee could guess his purpose.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

“don’t let her get your goat, Miss Carey. You’re not married to her like the boss is. Honestly, the poor guy has my sympathy.” Susan told herself that of course she didn’t mind if Mrs. Heath treated her like the paper on the wall. Why should she? She didn’t know what the rules of etiquet for employers’ wives were, but she rather thought a more gracious mood was indicated. Oh, well, vjhat did it matter? One snub more or less in a cold ahd unfeeling world! “I’m leaving for the day,” Heath

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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said over Aer shoulder. His pale, ascetic face seemed flushed and annoyed. “If Mac Whig calls from New York, tell the operator to get my house after 4 o’clock.” Jack Waring sauntered over to Susan's desk later. “Ritzed you, eh?” His keen eyes undeq his sandy thatch were smiling, but sympathetic. Susan shrugged. “I guess so. What does it matter?” But there was a line of bitterness about her young mouth. “Child, don’t you care!” She looked up, surprised, at the earnest-

He disappeared through the hangings and was gone with the stranger woman struggling and fighting in his grasp. Then Bu-lot sought to seize the princess, but Pan-at-lee grabbed him fiercely around the legs and strove to drag him down. Viciously he kicked at her, but soon found that he stood in danger of losing the princess unless he rid himself of this clawing, scratching she-}ato. Hurling O-10-a the floor, he seized Pan-at-lee by the hair and drew his knife.

ness of Waring’s usually bantering voice. She avoided him these days, fearing a recurrence of his flirtatious manner. But Waring seemed wholly in earnest. Almost fatherly. “Thanks,” Susan said soberly. She was struck by anew, not altogether unwelcome thought. What if she should find a friend in this man? (To Be Continued) The population of Prance has increased 1,000.000 since 1926. It is now 42,000,000.

—By Ahern

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And then the curtain behind him suddenly parted. In two swift bounds, a little figure crossed the room. Before Bu-lot’s knife reached its goal, his wrist was seized from behind and a terrific blow dropped him. lifeless, to the floor . . . When the waters closed over Tarzan in the pool of the gryf, he had gambled his chance for life upon one slim hope. He had seen a tiny moonlit patch of water glimmering through a smalf aperture in the cliff on the opposite side.

TARIFF HELP IS URGED FOR NATION’S FARMERS King of Wheat Growers Declares Aid Is Needed Sorely. By United Prt* LOS ANGELES. Cal., April 12. Not until agriculture is adequately protected by tariff Jaws will the United States enjoy a permanent era of prosperity, said Thomas D. Campbell, world’s largest individual wheat grower, during a visit here. Campbell disclosed that he has

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

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With swift, bold strokes he swam for speed alone. Tarzan heard the great splash of the huge gryf and the churning waters as It forged rapidly onward in the ape-man’s wake. Nearing the opening, he saw that the portion above the water was not large enough to permit his body going through. His life depended, then, upon how big was the submerged portion. Gatheriitit his great strength for the last few strokes, Tarzan extended his hands before him and shot forward toward the hole.

PAGE 13

stopped all wheat production thi* year on his 95,000-acre farm in Montana. “Our losses last year when wheat sold in Montana for 16 cents & bushel were stupendous,” he said. “The United States will enter the greatest period of prosperity in its history when farmers are given the same tariff protection that other countries now enjoy. It is logical to believe that prosperity will be permanent.” Seventeen different calendars ar used in India.

—By Williams

—By Blossei;

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin