Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 58, Indianapolis, Marion County, 18 July 1932 — Page 11

JULY 18, 1032

LEAP YEAR BRIDE il

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX (Continued.) “Look here!" It was Pearson speaking. ' Don’t tell me if you don't want to, but there's one thing I’d like to ask. Are you and Brenda Vail —I mean do you ?" "You heard her say she never wanted to see me again, didn't you? Well, I can assure you it’s mutual! What's more, she never will see me. I'll take care of that all right!" “But what about your play?" “What about your motion picture company? Brenda was explaining to me just before yiy came that the play’s so bad the agents laughed at it. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t supposed to be comedy. Oh, I’ve been getting a line on myself all right !” a a a J’M glad of it,” Pearson told him. “I was beginning to think you’d last your head entirely. That’s how I got into this mixup. Senseless apparently. “I suppose that’s what usually comes from stepping into other people's affairs. But I couldn't stand by and see a dame like this Vail woman put the skids on you! I figured that if I could get her interested in going to Hollywood—make her think she had a chance at the big dough—she'd, well, show’ up in her true colors. “She’s vain, of course. Terribly vain. You see I took the trouble to look up Brenda Vail rather thoroughly." “How'd you <Jo that?’’ “Oh, sent a couple wires. You didn't happen to know about Brenda’s marriage, did you?” “Married? But she’s not—?" “No, she isn't married now. Husband died two years ago—killed in a taxi smash-up. Seems he was crazy about Brenda and she led him ground by the nose. “The dope is that this husband really could write and people who knew both of them insist that he wrote the magazine stories printed under Brenda’s by-line. At any rate she hasn’t had a thing published since his death." Phillips’ lips tightened but he did not speak. “Listen, Dan,” Pearson went on. “I hope you’re not sore about what I tried to do. Suppose I should have known the thing w T as silly, but it seemed to ivork. “At least she fell for those letters. I wouldn’t have tried such a thing If I hadn't known about the phoney game Brenda pulled." “I'm not sore,” Phillips assured him. “At least, not at you. When I think what a complete idiot I've been—!’’ “Forget it. She's not worth worrying about!" “Oh, isn't she? Listen, let me out of this car. I've got to find a telephone!" "You can't do that, Dan. I won’t let youJk You can’t go back to that vampire, I tell you!” “She’s not a vampire! She’s—an angel. She's the sweetest, dearest, most wonderful girl in the world! Stop this car, Max. “I tell you I've got to telephone! Good Lord—you don’t think I’m talking about Brenda Vail, do you? It’s Cherry! I tell you I’ve got to find Cherry!” CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN TJEARSON repeated Dan's words. -*■ "You've got to find her? Why—isn’t Cherry at home?’’’ “I haven't seen her for a week,” Phillips admitted. “Cherry and I had a row. Oh, it was my fault! My fault altogether! I’ve got to find her and tell her I know that now.” “But where is she?’ Dan did not answer. They had reached the intersection of two important thoroughfares just as the tragic lights flashed red. There was a drug store on the opposite corner. Dan touched Pearson’s arm. “Let me out here,” he said. “I’ve got to telephone to Cherry.” "But, if you don't know where she is how can you do that?” “I'm going to call her home—l mean her parents’ home. That's where she must be. Want to ask her if I can come out and talk to her. “Don’t you understand, Max? I’ve got to see Cherry! I've got to tell her a lot of things—!’’ Pearson stopped the car. “All right," he said, "but make it snappy. I won’t be able to park here all day, you know." Dan disappeared into the drug store. It was several minutes before he emerged and when he did

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one look at hi face was enough to tell that the mission had failed. Pearson eyed him expectantly. “Well?" he asked. Dan got into the roadster. “She’s not there,” he said. “They haven’t seen her or heard from her." “Therf where do you think she is?" •“I don’t know! I thought all along—my God, Max, I’ve got to find her!" "Lint it rather late to begin thinking about that? You said Cherry left Saturday. I must say, Dan ” “Say it! Say anything you want to! I’ll admit I deserve all you're thinking about me. Tell me I’ve been a damned fool! "I don’t care what you say if you'll help me find her. She must be here in Wellington. She wouldn't go away!” “Why not? How about her parents? Maybe she's with them.” Dan shook his head. “I don't think so,” he said. “Cherry’s proud. I don’t think she'd go to her parents and—well, admit that she'd made a mistake. I thought she’d come back or at least send some word. "When she didn’t, I decided she really meant what she said—about being through with me. I thought she wanted a divorce and I was going to give her a chance to get it. "Lord, but I've been a fool, Mexf I’ve—oh, if I could only find her. Talk to her! Maybe I could make her understand—maybe she'd give me another chance !" nan Y)EARSON interrupted. “Listen,” he said, “I think Cherry’s gone to her parents. You’d better try to get in touch with them. The truth is she telephoned me last Saturday. Told me things weren’t going very well. "That’s the reason I planned that movie stunt and tried to get Brenda Vail out of town. I didn't want to see you and Cherry break up.” "Her father and mothers are in North Carolina. Did she say she was going there?”

“No, she didn’t say so. I just figured it out that way.” “What shall I do, Max?” “Well, if I were you I'd send a wire. Do you know where to find her parents?” “They’re at some hotel. They’ve j been there a month or more. It’s—wait a minute—l’ve got it!” He named a hotel in the fashionable North Carolina resort. “Why don’t you wire the management of the place? That would be less embarrassing, I imagine, than trying to get in touch with her parents. “AsK if Cherry Phillips—no. ask if Mr. and Mrs. Dixon’s daughter is with them. That's the best way. Can't tell how she might be registered.” “I'll do it!" Dan said. “Let’s go 10 the office. I'll send the wire from there.” Forty minutes later in the city room of the Washington News Dan Phillips stood with a telegram in his hand. It was a terse report that Cherry Phillips was not with her parents. Silently Dan handed the message to Pearson who read it and said: “Not there, huh?”’ Pearson and Phillips were in a corner of the room otherwise deserted. The day staff had departe’d and only half a dozen of the night men were on hand. The click of a typewriter sounded monotonously from across the room. Pearson rubbed his head. “We'll have to try again. Who are Cherry’s friends, Dan? Who could she be with if she hasn’t left tow T n?” “I’ve told you a dozen times I can't think of any one! Dixie Shannon didn't even know she was gone. There isn’t anybody ” “But there must be!” Suddenly Pearson’s fist hit the desk. "Look here, Dan, this may be serious! Has it occurred to you that Cherry’s an heiress? Her father’s money—have you thought of that?” “What do you mean?” “I mean anything may have happened in a week’s time! A beautiful girl—wealthy—has been missing for seven days. Nobody knows what's become of her. "Her parents—the servants at her home—not a person she might have been expected to communicate with has heard a word from her. How* do you know she hasn't been kidnaped? Maybe there's been an accident! Why’ in a week's time !”

PEARSON was on his feet. His dark face had set into a harsh mask. “What are you going to do, Max?" “Call the hospitals! You'd better get on another phone and take part of the list! If we can’t find her this way there’s nothing left but i the police—" A telegraph messenger entered ; the swinging gate that shut the city room from the entrance way and came directly toward Pearson. He held out a colored envelope. "Your name’s Pearson, isn’t it?” the boy asked. Max was tearing the envelope open. Dan sprang to his side and together they read the words: "Sixty-five per week agreeable stop can you report here Saturday.’ The message was signed with the name of the city editor of an eastern newspaper. Pearson crumpled the sheet into his coat pocket. The boy asked, "Any answer?" Fearson hesitated an instant. “Not now.” he said and was on his way to the telephone booth. There were no reports from Wellington hospitals of accident cases or patients who could be identified as Cherry Phillips. Dan and Max tried the hotels, but the effort was equally unavailing. .Suddenly Dan sprang up. He caught Pearson's shoulder. “I’ve just thought of something.” he cried eagerly. “Yes—l’ll bet that's where she is, Max! Why didn't I think of it before—?” “Why didn’t you think of what?” “I’ll bet she's with Sarah —the woman who used to take care of her when she was a little girl. Sarah O'Fallon, that’s her name!" “Where is this woman? Let’s get hold of her.” “I don’t know T where she is.” “Blit r! ’ Dan’s mouth was drawn in a tight, hard line. His face was colorless, his voice sharpened. “I don’t know’ where. ghe is,” he said, “but I’ll find her. “Sarah left when the Dixons closed their house last summer. She’s somewhere not far from here. Cherry used to get letters. Letters! That’s it—there must be letters —! Come, Max!”

TTBOOK A DAY BY BRUCE CATTON

IF Mignon G. Eberhart isn’t the best writer of murder mysteries now doing business, she's close enough to. the top to do until a better one comes along. If you’ll read her newest thriller, "Murder by an Aristocrat,” you quickly will understand my enthusiasm. Nurse Sarah Keate again is the central figure. Called to the aristocratic Thatcher home after Bayard Thatcher is shot accidentally and w’ounded, she soon finds herself up to the neck in a swirling current of intrigue and hatred that results in two deaths and keeps the reader perched on the edge of his chair from start to finish. Bayard Thatcher (if you’re interested) gets shot again, this time fatally; and the family's theory of a burglar might have gone down if Nurse Keate hadn’t spotted a bit of blood on the rug in the wwong room. This author’s mysteries are good, not only because she is a skilled constructor of plots, but because she can write decent English, because she can paint credible characters and hold your interest by the way they develop, and because she can do w’hat most mystery writers can’t do—write dialog that sounds as if it might have been spoken by ordinary human beings. "Murder by an Aristocrat” is published by the Crime Club for $2.

STICKfcPS

CDLGBFHSO If you combine three of the above letters in the correet order, they will he the last three letters of six that can he formed by putting, one at a time, the other letters in front of them. m

Answer tor Saturday

WOLF LOOPS FLO W SPOOL Abo\V show? how the consonants M LLPSF were filled in so as to form two words which, when spelled backwards, become two other words. - ‘ 1

TARZAN AND THE ANT MEN

is f \'\ 'JtK i\%En Vwlitel ■BBn

The more Tarzan saw of this dome as he was led through its corridors, the more ar azed he became. When he thought of the tremendous proportions such a dome must have to house thousands of men of his own size, his mind was absolutely staggered. It must be at least four hundred forty feet high, and it seemed beyond belief that any race existed capable of accomplishing such a feat. Poor Tarzan! Little did he realise the astounding change these Mmunians had wrought upon him!

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

IT was a single flight up the street level. Hatless, half-running, the two men reached the street. They sprang into a cab and Dan gave the address of the apartment. It was Dan suddenly who was taking the initiative, who was giving orders and directing the search. “I don't know’ what you're going to do!” Max reminded him. “Were going out to the house to look for Cherry’s letters. There must be some from Sarah. They'll give us the address.” “Dan, I think it would be a lot

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

SLNOPNYA'. fc\G ?>\7SD OP i Bl ' "- 1 • 1,

more sensible to go to the chief —” “Not until I find out whether or not she’s with Sarah. Besides, what could the police do? Cherry would not want them interfering. I can’t —I won’t believe anything's happened to her!” Max glanced quickly at his companion. Dan might say that he did not believe Cherry could be in danger. He might refuse to face that possibility, fight it off. but Max knew it was that possibility that was gripping Dan, that had set his chin

Now his escort led him through the circular corridor into one running at right angles to it. They stopped before a chamber filled with all manner of manufactured objects. There were large and small candles of every shape, helmets, belts, sandals, tunics, bowls, vases and the thousand other things with which Tarzan had become familiar during his stay at Trohanadalmakus. A white-tunicked alave came forward in answer to the summons of one of the ape-man's party.

in its hard line and turned the gray eyes into blazing pits. Max said impulsively, “Os Course not. We’ll find her somehow. Cherry's all right.” He didn’t believe it; neither did Dan Phillips, but Dan was grateful for the words. He needed hope and encouragement then more than he ever needed them in his life. Hope that Cherry was “all right,” as Max had said. Encouragement that he could find her and make her listen to the things he must tell her. Without this

—By Ahern

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**A green tunic for this fellow from Trohanadalmakus,’’ commanded the spokesman. “Whose insignia upon his back?” inquired the slave. - He belongs to Zoanthrohago,” replied the warrior. Quickly the slave brought a gar- * ment upon the front and back of which, with wooden blocks and paint, he stencfled a black device. As Tarzan, obeying orders, slipped the tunic over his broad shoulders, he sought to decipher the markings, but could not. Next, sandals were strapped upon his feet.

hope and encouragement—but the blackness of such an abyss was unthinkable! The cab halted. Max called "Wait for us!” over his shoulder to the driver as he followed Dan up the steps. Now they were inside the building, hurrying up the long staircase. Dan had whipped his keys from his pocket. He was fumbling in the half-darkness, trying to get the key into the lock, when something caught his attention. He looked up, almost missed he

OUT OUR WAY

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/V, eOH ; VEAH! ) VJCaT " ST v. v ____ _ .1,..- ' I ——■ V

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

JL 1 H ■fehtw.

Again the party proceeded down the corridor | which now changed rapidly in appearance. The 1 rough bowlder walls were plastered and decorated with vivid, colored paintings of battle j scenes and hunting. Tarzan now saw only white-tunicked slaves of the higher caste, and * even these were often resplendently trapped I with jewels and fine leather. The splendor of th scene, the brilliance of the lighting, increased until the corridor came to an abrupt end before two massive doors of hammered gold. , .j>

PAGE 11

tiny object halfway up the stairs. With an exclamation, he sprang forward. (To Be Concluded) EXPORTS STILL_ARE LOW By Unit'd Prn* WASHINGTON. July 18—Tha United States had an unfavorable trade balance of $6,000,000 for the month of June, preliminary figures announced by the department of commerce today showed. Exports were $115,900,000 and imports $121,000,000.

—By Williams

—By Blosser:

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin