Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 310, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 May 1933 — Page 13

MAY 8, 1933

DflßLinG FOOL'JS

Mn „„ * f .MN hirf today O dare 20 and beautiful Is nnhnp v became PAN CARDIGAN ho S™ I ,?"*** to bp m love with her 1* inJ'teißt'L, ~ v hi* snobblah family. EUSTANCE hnd*omr nrw--0 Bolvedcrr pj v* Monnle marked SL.fwt fln Hp helps her *ith family difts ?.?!* p * an< * when KAY. her vounger ?**. * r - trie* to run off with a traveling ■•teaman, he and Monnic bring her back without scandal SANDRA LAWRENCE one-time friend of Monnle's. trie* to win Dan air from he r Sandra * ma and HETTY think* Sandra is Irving to vamp JAMES the Cha :fteur and 1 tealous NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FIFTEEN SANDRA LAWRENCE was giving a party. Not the ordinary sort of Belvedere party, but a very special one, with caterers from the city, flowers from the same place and an orchestra reputed to have cotoe all the way from Chicago! Mrs. Peterman, grumbling belowstairs about the “goings-on,” was nevertheless, enjoying herself hugely. bumping into the caterer's men with their trestle tables and their white roats. bullying Hetty. “Whyn’t she have her parties at the club? That’s what I want to know!” Hetty complained, polishing silver. “Forty people to supper -it’s fierce, that's what it is.” The cook immediately took up the cudgels for her employer. “Hasn’t the young lady a right to do as she pleases in her own house? What’s it to you, anyway? You’ll have your afternoon off, same as always. You've got no kick coming.” “Me answering the bell in that gray outfit and tending to the ladies’ things,” whined Hetty, “when I oughta be off having a good time for myself. She's just a pain—that's what she is, giving herself airs like nobody in town.” “You get along upstairs in plenty of time to make yourself neat, miss,” warned Mrs. Peterman, inflamed by the reference to the new uniform of taffeta, with a musical comedy apron and frilled cap. “Who's all coming?” Hetty wanted to know', interrupting. “The cream of the place,” said the older woman with relish. “Judge Martindale’s two, and the Blairs, the Simmonses and Watermans and Olivers —and the Cardigans, of course. And ten young folks front the city, coming by the 6 o'clock. James’d better not forget to meet them.” “Mister Cardigan, I’ll bet, Is invited,” Hetty opined, giving a vicious rub to a fruit bowl encrusted with ornamentation. “Os course. And his sister, Muss Geraldine. That new Mr. Eustace—” “You saw the list,” Hetty broke In. eyes glittering with a true gossip's relish. “How about that pretty O'Dare girl?”

MRS. Peterman shook her head. "Not her. This is for real swells, didn’t I tell you? The O’Dares are nice enough, but poor as church mice.” “Her ladyship had her ’round the house plenty all last winter,” Hetty said coldly. “If you ask me, she’s bettor than the lot of them. She knows a person when you meet her on the street. She ain’t afraid to say ’good morning’ like a Christian when you see her.” Mrs. Peterman’s manner became slightly unctuous. On all matters of social precedence in Belvedere, she, having been general of the Lawrence household affairs for many years, felt herself eminently qualified to speak. “Nice enough, as I said, but her station in life is quite different from the rest of these people. My mother always said to me, ‘Nannie,’ she said, ‘always keep to your own station in life.' And I did. It’s better so.” Hetty sniffed. “This is A free country,” she contributed negligently. Then she wheeled, flushing deeply, as a masculine voice called her name. “Jimmie, I didn’t expect you back so soon!” The big, grinning young man in chauffeur's uniform lounged in the doorway. “Thought I’d keep my eye on you girls, so's you wouldn't get into mischief. How’s things going?” Hetty said virtuously, “We’ve been working like slaves all day. Be glad When this is over.” “Gonna be swell music,” the young chauffeur said, jerking his head in the direction of the sun porch, whither the grand piano had already been conveyed. This room, too, was banked with

2T6GDK A D& BY BRUCE CAITON Arthur fowler neil, former superintendent of the criminal investigation department of England's famous Scotland Yard, believes that he knows who that fabulous criminal. Jack the Ripper, really was. He tells about it in his new book. “Man Hunters of Scotland Yard.” Jack the Ripper, according to ‘ Neil's theory, was one Severino Kloskovski. alias George Chapman, who wrs hanged in England in 1903 for poisoning a number of women. Kloskovski. Neil points out, reached England in 1887; the terrible Jack the Ripper crimes began then, arid ceased late in 1888. when Kloskovski went to America —when New York immediately had an epidemic of them. In 1892, he returned to England; America had no more Ripper crimes, and Kloskovski evidently changed his tactics and became a poisoner, finally being caught and executed. Os course, the identity was never proved. But Neil says that he is morally certain that his theory is correct. This is just one of the tales that fill his book; and those who are fond of murder and detective stories ought to find a good deal of good reading in it. Published by Doubleday, Doran Cos., it sells for $2.50.

all manner of flowering trees, roses in tubs, and the like. The drawing room and the library beyond had been cleared for action. Rugs had been rolled up, highly polished floors given an extra gleam, furniture pushed back. In the dining room, which had an oval glassed in breakfast room beyond, the caterer’s men were madly busy. A hum of activity, “eligible as the whir of bees, pervaded everything. Sandra Lawrence, fresh and trim in white linen riding things, now camo briskly down the stairs, surveying the scene. "Everything's going well,” she ■:aid, with a nod to her retinue. “James, you'll bring those people up from the 6 o'clock. Then, Mrs. Peterman, they'll change—the rooms look very nice—and we go on to the olub for dinner. We ll be back by '):30. •‘I don't expect any one until 10. really, for the dancing, but it's Just as well to be safe. I’ve borrowed Mr. Eustace's man. Kong, to do the cocktails. Show him where everything is. He'll be here before 7—” B B B AND she was gone, leaving behind her a faint, delicate scent. Everything Sandra did was well done. She was cool, competent, correct. At 22, she had the poise of a matron twice her age. She loved this sort of thing—the whir and scurry of a big party. It was the very breath of life to her. Ever since her return from Europe the last time, she had complained bitterly to her father of the dullness—in fact the lack of social life —in Belvedere. Now, in mid-July, she prepared to bring a little gayety to the somnolent town. She would give “a smart” party, the sort of affair a Gotham debutante might give at the Ritz. Everything would be per-fect-cold food, drinks, things in aspic, music—everything! As she went out the side door into the terraced and landscaped garden with the special pool her father • had been goaded into having built for her the year before, her eye took in the scene approvingly. Sondberg, the gnarled handyman, was at work on the flagged paths, trimming away the ragged grass. The - roses were in full burst. There was a misty blue background of delphinium. It might, Sandra reflected, be a true English garden, with at least ten generations of culture behind it. At the stables, she found James, who had slipped around the back way as she went out the front. He was running a cloth lightly over the hood, adding unnecessary polish to the already glimmering chromium goddess who sprang, in full flight, from the nose of the engine. She gave him a dazzling smile. “Thanks—James. You’re sure I’ve plenty of gas? I’ve gto to get back in good order this afternoon.” “Yes, ma’am, Miss Sandra, It’s o. k.” . * She did wish Americans servants were more formal. Perhaps she could teach James, sometimes, not to say “o. k.” But he was a stun-ning-looking boy, no doubt about that. A dash of the Gary Cooper flavor about him. His uniform fitted him perfectly.

a tt SHE slid into the driver’s seat, slapping her pockets, boy fashion. Sandra was an unconscious actress. When she wore riding clothes she adopted a gently masculine air, James sprang to attention. "Match, miss?’* “Yes, thanks very much." She flipped a cigaret from her pigskin case and stuck it into a corner of her mouth. The young man came close, holding the flame for her, cupping it with infinite care with one brown hand. Sandra felt his nearness—a little tingle went down her spine. She inhaled deeply. This wouldn’t do. She would have to show James his place. Just because they had picnicked together, quite informally, on Summit Hill, that day the distributor acted up, just because she’d been—well, friendly and democratic to the boy—he needn't misunderstand. That was the trouble with servants in this couutry. Give them an inch and they’d take a yard. As the engine rioted, leaping to be off, she gave the chauffeur a cool glance. "Don’t forget the 6 o’clock,” she sang, making a turn. Yes, he must be reminded that he was, after all, only her servant. She was the great lady. Why had she been so foolish, that day on Summit Hill? It had been spring—he had reminded her, in his bigness and leanness, of Dan Cardigan. Was that it? Anyhow, for the fraction of an instant she had let him hold her in his arms. It had been the veriest accident. fa had tripped, stumbling over a tree stump. He had caught her. She had lain there for an instant longer than necessary. Oh. she had been mad, mad! That was all—but it had been encouragement enough. The man in olive green stared after her curiously as the dust hid the ear from view. "She’s a cool one and that’s the truth,” he muttered to himself. A girl in maid's uniform, watching from the pantry window, caught her lip within her teeth. "If she don't leave him alone,” she threatened to no one at all, “I’ll —I'll—!” She did not finish her menacing sentence. CHAPTER SIXTEEN MONNIE heard Kay's voice and looked up. It was Sunday morning—ll o’clock, to be exact—and Monnie was enjoying the sweet freedom of her "day off.” celebrating it by the weekly washing of her burnished bronze hair. Sitting out under the apple tree in a shabby old basket chair, looking extraordinarily childish in the white smock she wore, she answered her younger sister. "Yes? What is it?” (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

■/ is THAT THE AUTO 2 VOU MEAN E6*D—l SUPPOSE? THE ANCIENT CONTRAPTION OUT THERtJf). VOO'D WANT AN J THAT VS MOULTING ITS FENDERS*? Us IMPORTED TOWN-CAR, V. WHY, I WOULDNT "BE SEEN 'RIDING WITH LIVERIED tPv IN IT AS A REFUGEE FROM A CHAUFFEURS f-RMF-- \ ARtA/ YOU'D BETTER GET OUT AAW ANCESTORS RODE OffT THERE AND HANG A “RED LANTERN jl GILDED COACHES, ]/(. ON THAT STREET OBSTRUCTION/ {} MADAM—AND 'THEY'D (jLfl WHAT AN AUTO? NOTHING° <S ' VE A DUKEDOM TOR

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

r W MFW . 1 f WELL JAKE CARE A YEAH, AM’ LET ME KNOW*' “L. '7l OF YOURSELF ) WHERE TO FIND YOU, AND DOZA.THt TUNA FRECKLES-ILL / I'LL SEND YOU ONE FISHERMAN, SEND YOU A A FROM SHADYSIDE.AMD HIS POST CARD WHEN J YOUIL WANT TO HEAR SON,SALEM, 7WL GET TO WHAT THEY DO JDEPART S PORT -y-WITH FARBAK?.'/^ BOKT THAT,

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

(V-I.CTURE. IP YOU CAN, THE. LONG IMG OF AY f V FEEBLE, OLD *IH/\UNG CAPTAIN TO RETURN TO MMWW _ FINALLY. HE IS ABLE to buy A m I.—l ■ 'WEATHERBEATEN WINDJAMMER AND 1 t RE PUTS TO SEA AGAIN IN THE LAST R|

SALESMAN SAM

/g-lhess i’ll, go oyer <ano see. \f Patch ANY cqoße Hose, spades, rakes, etc., -since, h-e. HiS V&<s-eXA.6LE. GAROEW -

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

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“The Turcoman chief, half-civilized himself," said Olga to Roger, “seemed filled with superstitious awe at this uncanny addition to his tribe, and so my life was spared. I was given food and drink.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

“I became another human drop in the moving tide of life seeking the green steppes ahead. I was not treated unkindly nor given much notice as days went on. With recovering strength, my spirits also revived.

—By Ahern

HOW LONG WILL TT ) / OH, LET ME SEE I’D SAY ABOUT TAKE US TO BET J V NINE DAYS MAYBE A LITTLE HOME, UNCLE J / LESS,IF 600D WEATHER L- HARRY j VFAVORS US-YOU BETTER 60 IN ? J C AND GET SOME REST, V NOW ! /-r v J, A\ ' . s' V

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OUT OUR WAY

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“Love of life was strong within me, even though it was filled now with toil and monotony. The youths and maidens of the tribe became my companions and time, lost track of, meant nothing to me.

MINE DAYS! 6EE, THAT’S A || I’LL TAKE ONE MORE LONG TIME....THE MORE I LOOK AT COCOS ISLAND, THINK ABOUT TAG AN D BEFORE IT DISAPPEARS J l THE KIDS,THE MORE / FROM SIGHT — BOY? ) \NKIOUS T AJv/l TO \ I'D LIKE TO COME J GET HOME>2— ( BACK HERE AGAIN, j \_^SOK^IMEJ^y Z=A REG. U. S. PAT. OFF. \J fc 1>33 BY NEA SCWVICE. INC

(\ cpiM’t Keep Those chickens, FROtq WEY.T DOOR OUTft MERE 1 & —-—©■ 1 ' [rrrrrT-_Jjv L J/f / u Z°Z IQYMJ; 1 ■ir.rrrrr KWJUTjjJt WXZBEEBZ. '/| ~77T7 W W ' Ii Cgy lIV\ 1 111 Till I \ .;; LE G-A//LD W WMBLE-UpS- '■'/ TEBLe-CLCTh, @ © 1833 BY MCA SERVICE, INC, A/A — J

“Though I lived each day not knowing what the night would bring, courage and hope never failed me until my fortune dropped to eten lower depths." The girl paused before continuing her story, as if the thought of those past days was painful to her. i

—By Williams

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

PAGE 13

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin