Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 5, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 May 1933 — Page 15

MAY 17, 1933

DPRLiriG POOL 'a

BEGIN HERE TODAT Monnie odauf. ) •(•rri-tlv rngxirfd OAN CARDIGAN Ik uar<*nw dix•pprovc of tnr ma'cf CHARLES Kl-STACE. slraiicrr in town *dmsr#s Wonnlp ax •!! hrr voiinifr stxUr KAY mu, her o’drr bro'hrr pUrx o Blurry ANGIE GILLEN a. divorce la pending much to MRS O'DARI'S di'Hi *v , SANDRA LAWRENCE, pr.'endlng to lie friend of Mo- : r • Tv.ng to win I>. ■ a frr.l So:. ■ rc ‘ ‘ *> rmrrTd me vsb<- that her father has been hurt and for her to come at once. NOW GO ON WITH THE '•TORY CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (Continued.) “I'd like* vrointc you settle down here, Sandra.’’ he observed when they were once more alone “Running around to Europe all the time, traipsing to New York. I won; about you don't mind saying so. Now Dan Cardigan's a good fellow very good chap. Yoyi could do a lot worse, although Dan'd do well to stick to business these days. What's he doing dashing off to a ci ;de ranch with things as they arc ?” He doesn't in the least want to go •’ Sandra hastened to assure him. “It 1:s mother--she's most anxious for him to have a rest.” ' Well, well, it's none of mv affair, I suppose! Ring the bell, will you. there’s a good girl? I want my coffee now.” That was all. Sandra wisely said no more. So far as she was concerned the western trip was settled. And she had, she congratulated herself, skidded nicely over the thin Ice of Hetty’s discharge. Usually, she consulted her father on all household matters. Not that he wished to be bothered, but he was jealous of his authority, and ordinarily she would not have dismissed a servant without having first gone over the matter with him. a a a QHE still turned sick with rage O whenever she thought of Hetty and the scene on the evening after the party. How dared she speak to Sandra in that way? It had been unendurable. The things Hetty had said! And James! He had been little better. To think —Sandra felt the slowcolor burn her cheeks that she had treated him so well, like an equal really, and then such ingratitude! Sandra clenched her fists, remembering. Mrs. Peterman had assured her next day that James and Het'.v had gone of! together. Sandra had thought better of James. It all proved how wrong one's judgment could be. She had thought James had possibilities. It was just as well the pair of them had gone to the city—to Cincinnati, Mrs. Peterman had said. You never knew how a girl like Hetty might talk. Not that anv* one believed servants’ gossip. Still - Sandra supposed she had been just a trifle injudicious with James. But that was all. She couldn't help it if men admired her and showed it, could she? It wasn’t that she was a flirt—never that. Flirting was cheap. Maybe there was some quality about her that men simply couldn't resist. Anylu wy she hoped James wouldn’t babble to Hetty about the time heand Sandra had picnicked together. That awful girl would be sure to misunderstand. Hcy.iv like a flaming fury she’d looked that night! Sandra, shivering afterward in the privacy of her room, had acknowledged she'd been a bit frightened. Well, they'd left Belvedere, so that was all light. She had nothing to worry about. They'd have to get Glong without references from her. She had told James so very coldly the next morning. "Not going any place tonight, child?” Her father’s question interrupted her train of thought. She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I’m rather tired. I turned down several invitations. Want to rest.” It wasn’t true but Sandra had to keep face. She was to be truthful, rather frightened of an evening alone. Restless, on edge. That’s why she went dashing off whenever she became bored. But you couldn’t do that all your life, Sandra considered. And people had a way of being disappointing, no matter where one went. She was, she thought, rather perfect in her turnouts —clothes, makeup, everything. She knew how to be genuinely charming. Pretty enough, every one said, to be in pictures or on the stage. Why not? But she didn’t seem to want to stick to anything. Perhaps she hadn' t found herself yet. Last year, when she'd been in New York, she'd been so bored she had even tried getting some work as an extra in a studio. They were making a picture in that big place over on Long island. Sh? had known a girl there, some One she'd met in art school, who was •'making good.” Lilias—that was the girl's name—Lilias Martingale wasn't a bit good-looking, really. Too thin and her eyes too big for her face. But it had been Lilias who had got a small part in a production and who had been sent to Hollywood. a it st SANDRA had traveled all over Europe with her aunt. Mrs. Bayles, from Boston. There"H been lots of men to meet and dance with. That Englishman at Cannes. She had liked him. And two or three youngsters in Paris. But they hadn't been serious. Neither had she. She'd come back to Belvedere the autumn before, had done over the house in a whirl of enthusiasm, and then had settled back to see what happened. It was dull. That was why she had made friends with Monica O'Dare. Monica had something—some quality you couldn't describe. But Sandra dismissed her now with a shrug. Monnie didn't count. Nobody did if they go in your way when you wanted something. Sandra herself was a fighter, and proud of it. If Monnie had lost Dan, if she wanted him and couldn't keep hint for herself, it was just her hard luck. "I may be hard—l may be ruthless,Sandra told herself, smiling

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whimsically, “‘but I get what I want.” Dawdling in her room later with anew French novel, wearing sheer white pajamas splashlly monogrammed in scarlet, she heard her father's step on the terrace. She saw the erect, spare, dignified figure pass under the porte cochere. His right hand held his silver-knobbed stick. Sandra relaxed on her chaise longue. Dim kitchen sounds driited upstairs, the clink of china, of silver being handled and put aw,-ay. The chirp of crickets came to her from the garden. It was stupid, killing time ilke this at home. .She mast have dozed. becau.se presently, she came back from some dim dream to the realization that the new maid's voice spoke to her respectfully from the doorway. “Telephone for you, Miss Sandra.” Still drowsy, she took the instrument. ‘ Yes. Yes.” Her voice quickened. She sat upright. “My iather, you say? Where? How? Tell me—” She whirled about, facing the gaping servant. “They’ve cut me off. My father—hurt I must hurry!” CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR SANDRA tooled her roadster expertly out of the drive. She had dressed in haste, but her blue beret was at exactly the right angle. It was characteristic of the girl that she managed always to look perfectly turned out, no matter what the circumstances. And this Vime she was genuinely worried. The voice—a man's—had said, “Hurry. Your father is hurt. Elm Tree lane.” Wild thoughts raced through Sandra’s head. A car had hit him, probably. He went along with his head down, not looking. . To do Sandra justice, she was genuinely fond of her parent. In all the world, he was probably the only person she cared deeply for, with the exception of Dan Cardigan. Naturally her thoughts turned to Dan. What bad luck—thus they raced—that Dan had been called away that day on some business of his father's. She might have called him. It would be as well to have someone go with her. Father might be seriously hurt. She shivered at this. No, she w'ould not think it. Her car raced along, taking the corners with more than her usual touch of recklessness. Elm Tree lane. It was, she remembered, a lonely spot far on the edge of town. The lights of houses were now few and scattered. In spite of her vaunted courage— Sandra often observed lightly that she was afraid of nothing—she glanced uneasily over her shoulder as she drove. There was something in the air— No, it was just her nerves. She would be all right once she saw her father and assured herself he was all right. There was a car drawn up at the lane turning. Hadn't they sent for an ambulance, the idiots? Sandra wished she had telephoned Dr. Keating before she left, asking him to follow her. But her brain hadn’t been working. Her sole thought had been to get there at once. Automatically her mind registered the fact that a man detached himself from the small group at the roadside and moved toward her. Indolent was his gait, calm his mien and the excited girl, drawing up and jumped ovjt of the car, felt a flash of impatience. “What’s happened?” she began. “Where is—?" She got no further. A strong hand seized her. She smelled something sickening. Through her struggles she heard someone say, ‘ That was easy. We got her all right.” (To Be Continued)

7TSGDK SY BRUCE CATTON “-O AIN IN THE DOORWAY” brings up Thorne Smith again spinning out another of his carefully indecent and thoughtfully insane narratives; and if this one doesn’t seem as funny as its predecessors it can only be because the man is trying just a little too hard. This book introduces us to a homeward-bound suburbanite who takes shelter from the rain one evening in a doorway on a New York street. As he stands there, waiting for his always-tardy wife, the door opens and a hand jerks him inside, and he finds himself in a dizzy dream world all of whose inhabitants are cheerfully and completely balmy. He becomes part owner of a department store, for instance, in which sales people knock down and drag out all customers whose looks or actions they don't happen to like. The store is financed by a banker who is simply too good-natured to refuse a loan, even though he knows that the outfit is whirling straight toward bankruptcy. The salesgirls all are divinely beautiful, and not one has a shred of morals. The partners eat at a luncheon club where the audience expresses its disapproval of the speaker by setting fire to the draperies. There's a lot more, but that gives you the general idea. There are a lot of ribald laughs in it. but Mr. Smith seems to be pressing a bit. Much of the humor is lamentably forced. If the book had been cut in half it might have been much funnier. Published by Doubleday, Doran and Cos., it sells for $2.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

~D > ITS A STRING vU p WAIT A MINUTE,GU<S / IOF BtADS THAT WAS ] WHY, AH -GREAT CAESAR/ ) m /CHID UP IN TU SPRINGS MPf THESE ARE NOT ORDINARY / TH SEAT l } v -e>eads —they're atype l\_ \ -—'-WE GO LOOKIN' FOR />s• OF "PEARL 9* "BY .JOVE / T \ SOME TOOLS TO FIX. < f T>o YOU SUPPOSE THAT An rV } KETTLE, AN ALL I EE-6ATX'~SPUTT~J J ■' _PV WE FIND IS A CASE )/ L ...... WITH A STRING OF D~sf SPUTT UM-M— S • f IN IT V YOU KNOW WHAT J G>UESS YOUCL HAVE Jury THINK - J TO CALI A GARAGE MY woRD' ) ( COME AN' TOW TR' . '■ c .. BSCK ‘ 6-17- j

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

r WELL, YOUR ) SAY? IF THESE AIRY PL AN ELS ) f WELL, DAD SURN SURE DO, 51 M£>! V YEAH-GET THE £ J TRIP IS \ ~ _____ —- KEEP UDIN’MY LAKE TO J MY HIDE? IF IT < HOW ASOUT .>OLD FLIVVER OUT OVER, J __ XTn LOW/ LIGHT ON, I'M AGOIN’ j AIN'T YOU AGAIN, ) GETTING US LET'S GO / , FRECKLES / /§ jjl!) i UNCLE TO CHARGE LANDING _ ORMSSY ! YOU \ INTO TOWN, A

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

(/tnupCT A RELIEF IT \S, U)H£N THE LAST OF VOHALC 01 uW /|7YUT THEN BEGINS MORE BOAT W)S STOVJLD AV4AN, AND Trtfc DENUDED CARCASS IS LSPT UPRACTICE, UIVTH VIASH TAKTO THE SHARKS AMP GULLS, . in lN<a TOM'S "—\ 1 i it —* gniim- PLACE. / CRACK YER BACK. BONES, YE LAZY Nfm i . loafers' pull,

SALESMAN SAM

/yHSS ulARBue I hear. TheN YES I AND after. I FikllSHFDl /nfD? WHY, 1 THINK FOUR N $ NGAH *. I3LT NOT TA C'S / ( -, TulO OF THE I Y CONCERT IN UJHICH YOU SANG- ) SINGING AND P'OCEOUPThe PLOOOERYy C FLOWERY ENOUGH .A , D FOR WERE TOSSED AT / ....... . - 1 ■ r . I. . 1 i.J. ...T . ' ...

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

WHY, UAVVT ~ whm ASS, | AUi, G\PPY ios' HAS A i\V FA\RY TALE TO W- y °° ASOOT ? 1 TEVV YOH —AN' Ltm T'sl R\6HT HERE AN'

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

Knocking down the burly desert-man, Dick Terrel whirled with drawn pistol to face the clamoring mob. The American's determined stand and his shining weapon halted them more than his threats, which they did not understand.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Several minutes he held them at bay, when suddenly the girl’s warning cry caused him to wheel about. He saw Pats owner, senses recovering, creeping, upon him with wicked-looking knife. Dick’s back was now turned toward the mob.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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SWIPED SOMtl S'NO USE, 'm (f\w, WHAT A MISERABLE \IOVAGe! BUT, AT LAST, |' V 'SOUP FOR YA,/WASH. .1 CAN'T f PASS'NC SHIPS BECOME NUMEROUS THEY ARE * EAT VT. I’AA J NEARIHG THE PANAMA CANAL. TZ B J is s.iil BEAT t H oTn Y P'aTatp SAILOR ABO ARP IS EAGERLY LAVING GWEN HIM BY THE MATE. PLANS TO PWE OMERBOARP AMP ESCAPE. J

( ' ! ; t r ; \ N AFTER Y HEAR TH WHOLE STORV , WELL '— ONi\Y , \ME K\KDA TOOK \T UPON VWSEIF To WOTEVER YOH 00 THEN ,IS YER OWN LOOK AFTER TH KNO, HERE An’ KAKE PERN fcOfciNESS ) SURE THAT SHE GETS A SQUARE BREAK V J tvt , ?AL ? / r f J Tt ' Jn - * JEa. u. s p*t off, r 1933 by mla stwvicc iwc ,

One bold tribesman seized his chance to attack. But neither enemy reacned his object! Lightning-quick, Dick acted. His first bullet laid one foe forever low, and the other, screaming, fell before the pistois,second.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Now, indeed, was the situation perilous! ‘QUICK!” he whispered to Pat. back through the curtain. 11l follow.” So saying, he hurled a handful of jingling coins into the crowd. They paused to fight greedily over the loot. . . . Olga halted the'’telling of her story.

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

-By 'Small ,

—By Mai tin