Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 169, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 November 1932 — Page 13

NOV. 24, 1932.

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BEGIN lIF.KE TODAY AMOB PEABODY. ld#riy coutln of LINDA AVERILL, I*ll* to his death from the second-floor balcony of the Averilli' Lone Island home. Linda reaches him just before he dies. In time to hear him g*p, He pushed me—l" There are four guests in the house and all become susoects of the murder. Ail have violent temper* and all have quarreled with Cousin Amos The four are MR. STATLANDER middlewestern manager of the firm TOM AVERILL works for; MARVIN PRATT, former suitor of klndals: CAPTAIN DE VOS. handsome elgian representing a European perfume manufacturer; ana LIAN BHAUGHNESBEY. Irish writer and lecturer. Linda, realizing her cousin had tried to tell her he was murdered, rushes up the stsirs to the balcony. Someone steps behind her. tries to strangle her and she falls In a faint. She regains consciousness several hours later It has been assumed Cousin Amos’ death was accidental and Linda has no opportunity to tell Tom what really happened. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTEEN (Continued) She gulped, shut her eyes, and resolutely opened them again. Murder—murder! There, she had said It and faced it. Murder—in her house and she the only one who knew It. It was up to her, therefore, be-* fore Tom came back to decide several things. She must tell him, of course. But should she tell any one else? Dr. Parsons? The police? As Tom had talked, she had seen the whole affair through their eyes. And she knew not one of them except Tom could be trusted to see it through hers. To Dr. Parsons —and the police, too—she would be hysterical, imaginative, perhaps even a little delirious from shock. Murder—murder simply didn't happen in a house like this among wel-bred people. She had been attacked—true! But how could she prove it? What trace did an attempted strangulation leave? A cloth of some sort had gone around her neck so there would be no Anger marks. And was she sure her own head was clear? Yes, that she knew. Everything had happened as she remembered and she alone held the key to the "accident.” But if she were to tell the police —the incredulous, heavy-handed village police—one of two things would happen. They would laugh her statements to scorn and think her simply off her head. Or they would believe her—at least to the extent of detaining the men, questioning them blunderingly end fruitlessly, trampling through her house, making her repeat her own story endlessly and unavailIngly—and And no possible support of her theory that she had been attacked, on which also hung the proof that Cousin Amos had been murdered. Then, the instant surveillance was removed, off would go those four men. Just as they were going now—in a few brief hours. On her dresser a gay little clock ticked away in the hot, silent room. Almost halfpast 9! Voices came up through the open window from the breakfast room below. Someone politely was chatting there and wondering how soon she would come to consciousness and how much she knew. Soon that person—all the four, any one of whom was capable of murder—would be packing, would leave the house, unchaHr’i'red—would leave her life forever—but not as Cousin Amos had gone. This man would go confidently, safely— Not if she could prevent it! Those men must not leave the house —until she knew! n tt a WHATEVER she did, she could not stay in bed another moment. Swinging her feet to the floor, Linda stood up, a little shaky

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at first, and drank the contents of the glass on the table. It prickled through her veins and made her for the moment intolerably hot, but as the warmth waned she felt better and stronger. She was flinging on her clothes with quick, nervous fingers when her husband came back. "Lindal” ‘‘l couldn't help It. I had to be doing something.” But she sank rather gratefully on the chaise longue. "Oh, Tom, I'm awfully glad you hurried back. I’m sorry I had to bes 6 mysterious, but you didn’t speak to any one of what I said, did you?” ‘‘The undertakers’ men are here. I had to see about them. I only saw the others as I went through the hall.” "Do they know I’m all right now?’’ "I didn’t speak of you. Parsons said you were 'doing nicely.’ That might mean anything.” “Good! There's time then—” "Bpt Linda. I’m sorry, there isn’t. Not this moment, anyhow. The undertaker’s men are ready and I’ve got to go over to Port to make final arrangements. "We’re taking the body to the parlors there. We can’t —well, Irankly, Binks, Parsoifs said—in this weather—” Linda shivered in spite of the brooding heat of the new day. "I see. Must you go with the body?” "I'm afraid so. In fact, I should, Binks. It’s all we can do.” "How long—” "They’re wailing for me now, honey. Kathleen will come right up—she won’t leave you alone.’’ “It isn’t that. I ddn’t mean in fact, I’d rather oh, Tom, I’m afraid Marvin and the rest will go while you’re away!” "Linda—why do you v/orry about those men? They ought to go as quickly as they can, but as I told you, dear, there’s no possible train until 12.” His voice had the patient tone used with an argumentative child. "I know. I’m sorry, Tom. I suppose there will still be time enough —but hurry back! "Os course I will darling. You know that. Shall I tell Kathleen to come up now?" She looked out over the quiet lawn to the water, still, glassy, not broken by a ripple that might mean a hint of a breeze. It had looked that way as she stood at Cousin Amos’ balcony door—and then— Again she shivered. "Yes, perhaps. But warn, her I don’t feel like talking. Perhaps I’ll try to—to sleep a little.” She saw that that suggestion relieved him and shivered again inwardly. Sleep, indeed! Could she ever sleep again? CHAPTER FOURTEEN IT was almost half past 10 by her little clock when Linda’s listening ears heard the welcome spin of gravel under the wheels of a returning car and she opened her eyes to see her mother-in-law tiptoeing out of the room. "That's Tom!” they both exclaimed, and the older woman laughed a little. “You needn’t worry, Lindy! she said. "He’ll be up here as soon as he can fly, and I’ll go downstairs to see if your guests need any help in their final preparations.” When Tom appeared, as promptly as his mother foretold, his wife was sitting up, bright eyed and looking astonishingly untouched by the recent disaster. “Now, Linda what’s on your mind?’’

Her eager desire for speech did not prevent a flash of gratitude for his direct approach to the subject. No pretense that he’d forgotten it, no argument as to whether she were able to talk. "Sit down, Tom,” she said, and now as she heard her own voice that the interval, frantically as she had resented it, had strengthened and steadied her. Yet Tom, as he obeyed with more worried perplexity than he permitted himself to show, thought he never had seen Linda look so serious, and as he took the hand she extended, he experienced a quick inward shock. It was icy cold and, for all her outward control, decidedly tremulous. Then she began to talk, quietly, without any sign of weakness or hysteria, and he listened, incredulous, but believing. Such things couldn’t happen but, if Binks said so, they had! She told of the door that was ajar; of the voices, so indistinct that she had thought one of them his; of her quiet approach and withdrawal, unheard; of her surpris? when, downstairs, she saw him in the water; of her pause on the terrace; the scuffle overheard; the sudden hurtling down of Cousin Amos’ body and the scant five words which he had strength to gasp. Words which had sent her flying up the steps to identify h's assailant. Averill broke in w.t'a an exclamation of horror. “Linda—alone! V,hy you might —you might have been killed—!” "I nearly was.” "What’s that?” "I nearly was killed. You—you didn’t know it, Tom, but when you thought I waved —well, your being on the raft there, facing the house, saved my life, I guess.” nun HE heard her out grimly. Heard of the silent approach of the man behind her—the man whom she had trapped there and who, fearing detection, tried to silence her forever. Heard why she involuntarily had clutched at the air—a gesture so easily translated into a lighthearted wave! And as she finished with her vague memory that the choking pressure gave, just as she toppled into unconsciousness, he swore briefly, shortly, with the concentrated anguish of futile rage. "So—what do you think of that?” she concluded, trying to relieve his evident tension by speaking lightly; Face set grimly, eyes burning into hers, he sat there a moment immobile.

AW . BY BRUCE CATTQN

BOOTH TAHKINGTON probably will be remembered for such completely American books as “Penrod,” “Seventeen” and “The Gentleman From Indiana”; but it is worth bearing in mind that the man can, when he sets himself to it, write colorful, old-world novels of romantic adventure about as well as anyone alive, and his newest book, “Wanton Mallyis proof of it. “Wanton Mally” is a story of English gallants in the reign of Charles 11. There is an exiled Frenchman, a beruffled dandy from Versailles, one M. de Champvallon, who sets out to amuse himself in London and falls in with a pair qf roisterers who get him into such a jam that death on the gallows rises as an immediate probability. Then, to complicate matters, two Quakers and their protector, fleeing from the wrath of a stern government, cross his path; and not Jeffrey Farnol, J6hn Buchan or the Baroness Orczy could have got more suspense, more tense action and more purely romantic excitement into the tale of the gay Frenchman’s escape from danger than Mr. Tarkington provides. Most romantic novels are peopled by stuffed shirts; but Mr. Tarkington’s great skill at character drawing has not deserted him, and the people in “Wanton Mally,” for all their powdered wigs and jangling swords, are as real and as recognizable as Penrod himself. “Wanton Mally,” in short, is fine entertainment. Published by Doubleday, Doran and Cos., it retails at $2.

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

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As the great ape leaped from the stage, a terrified audience expected to see the man in the box its easy victim. Instead they saw the bronzed giant placing his prm soothingly about that shaggy neck.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

His look made her realize suddenly, as an outsider would realize, what she had been through, what she so narrowly had missed. “I think it’s murder and attempted murder!” he answered slowly. “Good God—what might have happened—and I wasn’t there!” Suddenly he engulfed her with tense, protective, angry tenderness. "Ouch—my she exclaimed. She wriggled tentatively, then more violently. "But it’s only a little stiff now. Let me get my breath. There! Why—where are you going?” "To call the police.” "Oh, Tom—wait! That’s exactly what I thought you’s say and exactly what you mustn’t do, just now. anyhow.* You don’t know anything—whom would you accuse?”

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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The nearest heard him speak some meaningless sounds. Meaningless to them, but evidently the ape understood. Its menacing actions changed to docile ones; It whimpered softly and gently grasped shculder.

His eyes rested on her speculatively. "So anxious to save him?’’ "Tom—what do you mean?” "You don’t sound as though you wanted to catch your cousin’s murderer as much now’ as you did when you ran upstairs.” His voice was distant, cold. "I want to catch him more than ever,” she said vehemently. "But I know that we must decide together, first, what to say.” "That is simple enough. We can say I found Mr. Pratt bending over you." * it n SHE caught her breath at the sug- ’ guestion. "Tom—Tom—how can you ” "How can I what?” "Think Marvin ?” , "How can I help it?” His hands clinched. “Linda—do you want to

drive me crazy? I’m trying to—hold myself in. It’s for your sake I’m going to report it that way instead of—throttling him—choking the life out of him ” "Tom!" She was beside him with one quick movement. "Tom. dear —I forgot that. Os course, you think—but wait a minute, honey! Sit down here ” He allowed her to draw him down on the side of the chaise longue, but his face was tense and his eyes brooded darkly, not meeting hers, she plunged quickly ahead. "Dear—there are four men in this house—and four men who may have done it. In fact, you said you saw Mr. Shaughnessy just about the same time and the other two were up. weren’t they, by the time you got to the room? How can you be sure which one it was? "They’d all had trouble with

—By Ahern

When the light again went up the man had disappeared. Later Pat's father learned he was Lord Greystoke. “Well known in London,” said the captain's friend, “but better known in Africa. There he chooses to live in the jungle, almost naked.” it

Cousin Amos. You remember we joked about the ‘potential murderers.’ Marvin is one of them. He may be the one, that’s true—but ’’ Her words reached him. but they started another train of thought. "Four of them—and any one of them might—Linda, those men don’t wait for the noon train. They get cut of here as quickly as they can pack. I’ll stand over every last one—l’ll tell them It’s that or —arrest.” "But, Tom. you were convinced it was an accident. Wasn't everybody?” “Yes, of course, Binks. How could it seem anything else?" "That’s it exactly. Murder—murder simply doesn't occur to any one in—well, in our type of home. And. anyhow, it had every appearance of an accident. You went all over the ground, didn’t you?”

OUT OUR WAY

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“Sure—with Parsons. Into the bedroom, out on the balcony.” "And neither of you saw anything?’ ’ "What was there to see? An empty bed—an open door—a torn railing—" "And the body of an old man who fell over, headfirst, hit the stones below and was killed. Was the doctor even surprised that the fall killed him?" “N-no. Os course it was only one story, but the old-fashioned balcony is quite high and he did go headfirst. His head was—well, badly crushed.” "There! He didn't suspect!" "No—no. he didn’t.” "Did you see—any clue?" “What do you mean? Oh, traces of the man! No, nothing.” (To Be Continued!

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“The natives claim he is half ape, himself,'’ laughed the friend. Pat forgot all this as the exciting sailing day arrived. But time came when she recalled it, for she was destined to meet the ape-maxf in his own jungle—and not as his friend.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin