Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 215, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 January 1934 — Page 19

TAN. 17, 1937.

<3k UNKNOWN BLOND By Lou BROOKMAN -

BEGIN HEU TODAT Who killed TRACY KINO, orchestra leader found dead In hu apartment? DAVID BANNISTER, author, former newspaper reporter, undertakes to find out. Police are searching for an 'unknown blond" who .-iflted King shortly before bla death Bannitter has seen the girl, but the La* since disappeared* HERMAN SCURLACH. who wro*e King a threatening letter. 1* In Jail He declare* his innocence AL DRUGAN, friend of Kings. *av the orchestra leader has been having trouble with JOE PARROTT his former vaudeville partner, and accuse* Parrott cf th# murder. Police learn that MEIVTNA HOLLISTER, middle-aged spinster, hsd a violent quarrel with King after hi* cat killed tier car.arv CAPTAIN McNEAL of the detective bureau goes to see Mis* Hollister snd her brother. MATTHEW When he leaves he declare*. *Thoe two will bear watching." Next morning Bannls'er learns that the blond suspect has been arrested He goes to see her. NO GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY (Continued) Bannister glanced over his shoulder. The woman in the blue uniform was far down the corridor. There was no one to overhear. "Where did you go?" b asked. She hesitated, then went on slowly. “I though someone was following me. That frightened me and I left the hotel. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. Then I saw a department store. I wanted to buy something different to'wear so I went in but I thought people were staring at me. I went into the rest room and it was quiet there. Not many people came in. I found a magazine and stayed there, trying to read, until time for the store to close. "Then I went to the railway station I stayed in the women's room for awhile. About 9, when I went out to buy a ticket, a man came to the window’ and showed me a police badge. He said he was a detective and that I'd have to come with him. He brought me here and—l’ve been here ever since." The girl turned away and Bannister noticed the grace of her shoulders. It was a grace that is not acquired, a grace that speaks of family and breeding. Bannister thought, ‘This is the last place on earth to find such a girl!" But she was there nevertheless. Bannister shifted uneasily, aware that he was facing a situation for which he had no solution. He said, ‘Listen. Miss Prance —” a a a AT that she whirled. “Oh,” she exclaimed. "I’d forgotten! Please don’t tell them my name. I’d forgotten that I told any one. You're the only one who knows it. Please don't tell them!" “But they must have asked you?” “I wouldn’t tell them.” the girl said stiffly. “I wouldn’t tell them anything at all. They’ll never be able to make me!”’ He tried to reason with her, to persuade her that it would be much better for her if she would talk to the detectives freely. “I can't!” the girl' insisted stubbornly. ‘“I can’t do it.” “But don’t you see that so long as you don't, they'll keep you here?” “Then I'll stay.” The woman in the blue uniform was making heer way toward them. “Visiting time’s up,” she announced. “You'll have to go. mister.” The w’oman waited beside him and there was nothing for Bannister to do but leave. “I'll come back.” he promised over his shoulder. "And I want you to think about what I’ve said.” Then he was outside and the heavy door bolted behind him. Slowly Bannister made his way back to Captain McNeal’s office. That girl back there—Bannister sw’ore softly. He couldn't believe she was a murderess. And yet there was so much to prove it. She had been in King’s apartment, had admitted it. If McNeal knew about the revolver —! Bannister swore again. By this time it was altogether possible that McNeal did know. He might even have the gun. If he did. and the ballistic expert could prova that the bullet that killed the orchestra leader came from that revolver, it would be over. The girl he had just left

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THE custom of pouring wine from one glass to another, as an evidence of friendship, continued long after the custom of drinking before a fieht died out. Later, it became customary merely to touch the glasses together before starting to drink. NEXT- di u uueet ever been seed far jaiaceeT

wouldn’s have a chance. She'd get life at least. She was a pretty girl but in spite of that no Jury could overlook such overwhelming evidence. a a a OVERWHELMING was what It was. Then it occurred to Bannister. piecing out the damaging facts and marshaling them before him. that his testimony and his alone could convict Juliet Prance. He had seen her come from the hotel, had seen the revolver in her handbag. Suddenly Bannister stepped forward more briskly. Maybe they would succeed in making a case against the girl but he was certain of one thing. What he knew about Juliet France he would k"ep to himself. He thought of Jim Paxton then and his promise. Bannister had agreed to turn over to Gainey everything he learned about the murder so that Gainey might write it for the Po6t. Well, he would keep that promise but he would keep it later. In the wing of the headquarters building reserved for the detectives’ offices Bannister encountered the young man who had given him the information about Juliet France, the young man who had been whittling his pencil. “My name's Flemming," the stranger volunteered. “Understand you're with the Post.” “Yes.” Bannister told him. They talked for a few minutes and Bannister learned that his new acquaintance was a reporter on the oppositon evening paper. He learned further that McNeal had intended keeping secret the apprehension of his blond prisoner but that someone had “spilled” it. That was why there had been no mention in the morning newspaper of the girl’s imprisonment. Gainey appeared a few minutes later, eager to talk about the case. He and Bannister spent the rest of the morning at headquarters but the time proved fruitless. At 12 Gainey left for the office. Bannister drifted out for lunch and presently was back. Thus it happened that at 2 he was present when a surprising thing took place. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE telephone on McNeal’s desk rang sharply and the captain made a grab for it. “McNeal speaking,” he barked into the instrument. “What?” David Bannister, in a chair tipped back against the wall gave his attention to the marine scene decorating the calendar across the room. McNeal's voice went on in monosyllables. “Yes. Yes. Well ?” He sat down the telephone a moment later, scowling. 'That was Steve." he said. Bannister knew he meant Steve Fisher of the detective bureau. ‘Thought he had Parrott located, but he’s lost him again.” “Do you think Parrott’s here in Tremont?” Bannister asked. McNeal shook his head. “If he was,” he said, “we'd have had him in a cell long ago. Oh. no! He got out of here pronto. Parrott's a pretty tough customer, you know. He’s got a record ” “State prison. Served eight months for passing bad checks.” McNeal went on, describing the offense which had taken place in another state. "That’s not all. He was indicted with some others on a narcotic charge in St. Louis last winter. Got out of it, somehow.” Bannister wasn’t interested in hearing about that again. He said, “Listem. Cap. what about that girl back there?” He was leaning forward, speaking earnestly. He would have gone on. but suddenly the outside door opened. There was a girl on the threshold Denise Lang. Behind her stood Parker Coleman. She looked from the captain to Bannister, doubtfully, hesitantly. Then, with a rush, she entered the room. (To Be Continued)

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“Go on!" yelled Zveri to Abu Batn as the weird scream sounded. “If you are afraid to go, 111 go myself.” There was no argument; the Arabs stepped aside. And then a little monkey appeared on the top of the wall from the inside of the city of Opar and with prodigious leaps fled screaming out across the plain.

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It was the last straw. The shaken nerves of superstitious blacks gave way to sudden strain; and almost with one accord they turned and fled the dismal city, while close upon their heels were Abu Batn and his desert warriors in swift and undignified retreat.

—By Ahern

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Zveri and his three white companions, finding themselves deserted, looked at one another questioningly. “The dirty cowards,” exlaimed Zveri angrily. “You go back, Mike, and rally them. The three of us will go In." Zveri, Miguel Romero and Paul Ivitch turned once more into the fissure.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The three men passed through the outer wall and entered the courtyard. A lofty inner wall stood before them. Romero was '.he first to find the opening. Calling his fellows, he stepped boldly into the narrow passage. Then again a hideous scream shattered the brooding siience of the ancient temple.

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—By Williams

—By Blosses

—By Crane,

—By naming

—By Martin]