Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 198, Indianapolis, Marion County, 28 December 1933 — Page 17

DEC. 28, 1933

9k UNKNOWN} BLOND m By Lqyra JLryj BRQOKMAN 01911 WC* a

BEGIN' KERF. TODAY On ft utormv November evening DAVID BANNISTER mee't. a prettv Uond girl and oilers her a lift in the cab in which he U riding Her handbag opens and he sees a revolver inside Next morning Bannister reads that TRACY KING, orchestra leader In a movie thfaffr. has been fount* dead in hit apartment police are searching for an unknown blond who vtsued King the r.leht before Bannister, remembering the girl in the taxicab. Is puzzled He see* her again that morning. The flri tell* him her name is JULIET FRANCE and that she Knows nothing of the murder. She begs Bannls.er to mr.p her and he agrees. . ITVr He goes to see nix Old fr.end. JIM PAXTON editor of the Tremont Post. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FIVE {Continued) “But that was the worst thing you could do!" Bannister exclaimed, dismayed. “Someone is sure to find the gun. They’ll trace it to you—” The girl looked startled. “Oh!” she said. "Do you think so? I hadn’t thought of that. I —l just wanted to get rid of it!” There was a moment’s pause. Then the girl said slowly, “I guess it doesn t matter much. I guess they’ll be here pretty quick to get me anyhow.” The gray eyes were helpless again. ‘lf I could have managed to get—that paper it would have been all right. I could get some other clothes somehow. This morning I thought you were going to tell them about the gun, but if you didn’t there wouldn't be any reason at all for them to arrest me. I could make myself look different. I could get some other clothes and—oh, dye my hair or something. Only if they've found that paper—” ana Bannister spoke up then. He knew that he didn’t believe the story Juliet France had told him. He didn’t believe she had come to Tremont to hunt for a job or that she had gone to Tracy King's apartment to ask him to hear her sing. Nevertheless, he wanted to help her. Juliet France—if that was her name was in a tough spot. He didn't like to think of a girl who looked like that facing Oliver McNeal and Steve Fisher and the relentless grilling they would give her. “Listen,” Bannister said, “you said that was just a piece of—well, scratch paper. A sort of memorandum?” She nodded. “Well, maybe I’ve been wrong about all this. There’s a possibility —Just a chance in a million, but still a chance—that the boys might have missed it. They could have picked it up, though it didn't amount to anything and tossed it into a wastebasket. I don’t say they would, but then again they might! If there was only some way to find out—!” “There must be!” she exclaimed eagerly? “Oh, there must be a way! Couldn’t we go tonight—after it’s dark? Couldn’t we manage it somehow?" Bannister shook his head. “Maybe I can think of something,” he said, and once more was surprised at himself. What crazy sort of stunt was he letting himself in for? Conniving with a girl wanted for murder, aiding and abetting a criminal. But he wasn’t! He was convinced of one thing. She wasn’t a murderess. And she certainly was in grave danger. He looked at. the girl again and said, “I don’t know what we can do but I’ll try to find a way to get into that place. You’d better go to your room and wait until you hear from me. Maybe I can scout around a little. Find out how the wind lies—” He walked with her to the elevator, then took his leave. “You'll hear from me in an hour or so." he promised over his shoulder as he turned to go. Twenty minutes later he entered Jim Paxton's office. a a a CHAPTER SIX JIM PAXTON'S face lighted as he saw the figure in the doorway. “Hello, there!" he exclaimed. “Glad you came around.” Bannister sauntered to a chair beside the editor’s desk.

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This Curious World Ferguson

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THK DOGS of Tibet are little more docile than wild animals, but it is little wonder, for they are fed on human flesh. Tire bodies of deceased persons are cut up and pounded into a paste, which is made into dog feed. NEXT —What bird once was believed to eat nothing bat iron?

“How much did you lose last night?" Bannister demanded. “Oh, it isn't that. I followed your example and went home early,” Paxton assured him. “But I've been down here since 6 o’clock. Thai blasted murder last night hit us in a bad way. The Times had ail the best of it, of course, coming out this morning. Dild a good job. too." The Times was Tremonfs only morning newspaper, but the same publishers issued the evening NewsPress. Against such opposition, the Post had prospered, but it was a continuous fight. "It hit us in a bad way,” Paxton repeated. “Kennedy, the city editor, is laid up in a hospital and his assistant is anew one. Only been on the job two months. Besides that,” he frowned, raising his two hands in a gesture of defenselessness, “we're shorthanded. One man off on a late vacation and another quit without notice. There arc a couple of youngsters filling’ in, but they don't know what it’s all about!" “What's new on the murder?” Bannister asked. Nothing apparently. I guess they're still looking for the mysterious blond. Say, it’s a whale of a story, Isn’t it 0 You don’t know what a sensation that crooning orchestra leader has been in this town! Girls and women all crazy about him. Sending him letters and cakes and all sorts of presents. Asking for autographed pictures.” “Must have been popular,” Bannister agreed shortly. ‘Popular’s no word for it! And then there’s the society angle—his engagement to Denise Lang, the richest girl in Tremont. Why, it’s the sort of story that doesn’t break once in five years and,” bitterly, “we don’t even start on it before The Times has cleaned up!” “I wouldn't say it was cleaned up,” Bannister commented. “Net until they find out who killed him.” “Oh, no, of course I didn't mean that. But The Times had the whole story—all any one’s been able to get so far. If Kennedy were only here or I had two more reporters—!” a a a BANNISTER had been sitting with his chair tipped back. He brought the two front legs of the chair to the floor now, straightened and said quietly, “You want more reporters, do you? Well, I’ll take the job.” “You’ll take it!” Bannister nodded. “I’d like to take a fling at it,” he said. “Remember what we were talking about last night—about the thrills and excitement we used to have?” “Why, Lord love you, Dave! You don’t mean you want to be a reporter on the Post again, do you?” “Why not?” Bannister was talking eagerly now. “I'd like to find out who killed Tracy King—and why. Oh, I don't suppose I'll be much help to you! Probably I’m stale; been out of harness too long. But I can do leg work. “Go to it!” Paxton told him curtly. “There was never a better police reporter in Tremont than you were, Dave. Maybe you’ll get some ideas you can use in a novel.” a a a npEN minutes later Paxton and Bannister were in the city room —the same large, square city room, scarcely changed, where Bannister had worked years before. Paxton strode a few steps forward, then called, “Oh—Gainey! Got a moment?” Down came the outspread pages of a newspaper. Down came the tipped-backed chair. A young maif with a brown felt hat tipped back at a rakish angle upon a head of very red hair emerged from behind the newspaper. He crushed out his cigaret and got to his feet. “Yes, Mr. Paxton,” said J. Randolph Gainey. “Sure! Is there anything—?” (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE

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As little Nkima, on Numa’s back, started through the forest, an armed expedition was leaving the conspirators’ camp to seek the treasure vaults of Opar. As Zveri led the safari away he said to Zora, “I am leaving you and Comrade Jafar in charge of the base camp, with your boy and ten askaris as guard.”

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“That will be plenty,” said Zora. “There is no danger.” "No,” agreed Zveri, “not now, but if that Tarzan were here, it would be different. However, I chose to start now because I learned that he had gone on some foolish expedition and had never been heard from. He is probably dead.”

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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The day after the departure of Zveri, Jafar summoned the head man of the askaris. “Take all your men and go into the forest to procure meat,” he said. “On pain of death let no man return before sundown, and take with you Zora’s boy. When you return I will give you a curved sword and cartridges.”

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

When the natives were ready to leave for the hunt, Kahiya, the head man, called Zora’s servant. “You are to go with us,” he said. “I take orders only from my mistress,” Wamala replied. Kahiya thrust his cruel hunting spear against the boy’s trembling body. “You go with us, or—”

PAGE 17

—By Williams

—By VJosser

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—By Martin