Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 218, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 January 1934 — Page 13

JAN. 20, 1934.

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M.1.1N Htßf TODAT , Who killed TRACY KWO. oreh*tr* Wider lound m his hotel •pmrtBier.t? DAVID BAJCnBTER suthor. former newspaper reporter, undertakes to find ML Amorur the suspects are an “unknown blond*' who visited Kina shortly before his death: KERMAN RcCRLACH. tn Jail and declaring hi* innocence, who wrote King a threatening letter: JOE PARROTT. King s former vaudeville partner, with whom he had had trouble: MELVINA HOLLISTER middle-aged spinster who had quarreled with King after his eat killed her canary. The blond suspect Is arrested. Bannlsted talks to her. but she refuses to tell where she came from or say anything about herself DENISE LANO. King s fiancee. Identifies the prisoner as the girl she saw talking to Kina the day before hi* death The girl admits going to King s apartment to get some letters, but denies any knowledge of the murder. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (Continued) But he wasn't. His feelings, since he had seen Juliet France that morning, had undergone a complete metamorphosis. He knew now that she had lied to him, deliberately deceived him. trying to play on his sympathy. She had told him one story and the police another. He thought of the girl in the green suit again and a single word formed itself in his mind — Murderess.” CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE David bannister was late coming to breakfast next morning and, when he did, he dawdled over his food. To his aunt’s questions about the King murder case he gave sketchy answers. Kate Hewlett, not to be ignored, persisted in her questioning and finally Bannister retreated upstairs to his room. There he sat, smoking one clgaret after another. He decided to hunt for an old tobacco pouch he had somewhere and rummaged through his luggage. The tobacco pouch was not found. Bannister came across a photograph in the search—a photograph in a leather frame, showing a pretty girl, smiling. He placed the picture on the desk before him and studied it. Adele was not beautiful. Even In the days when he had been most in love with her, Bannister had never considered her that. Hers wer| not the perfect classic features. Her eyes, for instance, slanted ever so slightly. Her cheekbones were too high. Nevertheless, she was an extremely attractive young women. Bannister picked up the photograph. Devilishly attractive! And heartless and unprincipled, a slave to her own ambitions. Adele was all of those things. Sne took a man’s heart, played with it like a toy, using It for her purposes— Bannister sprang to his feet. He crossed the room and strode back again. Why should he condemn Adele? She was no worse than the rest of them! Women were all alike. He was the one to be condemned, because he was a fool. He had let this other girl—the one accused of Tracy King’s murder—wind him around her fingers as easily as Adele had. From the newspaper Bannister had learned that the girl had not yet confessed the murder. Nevertheless, she was guilty; there was no doubt of it. It took a level head like McNeal’s to deal with such a creature. She was guilty as hell. She had shot a man and now she should take her punishment. m am WITH a quick movement Bannister snuffed out the cigaret he had been smoking and dropped it into a tray. The punishment for murder was life imprisonment at the least. Bannister knew all about stage prisons. He'd been in many of them. He could see the girl, in a drab uniform, working at monotonous prison tasks. Impatiently Bannister flung himself into a chair. There he was. going soft again! He wouldn't do it. He'd go down to see McNeal and tell him what he knew about the girl. He'd tell him about meet-

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ing her and seeing the gun in her handbag. That thought died inslaintly. No. he couldn't do that. It was the one thing he couldn’t do. He remembered the promise he had given, 'They'll never hear about it from me.” He had been a fool to make such a promise but, having made it, he would keep it. Bannister stared at the picture on the desk before him and his eyes hardened. He’d been a fool but that was ended. Adele had deceived him. So had the girl who called herself Juliet France. Well, from now on It would be a different story. , Bannister ate lunch and rode downtown on a street car. He did not go to the Evening Post office because he did not want to risk meeting Jim Paxton. At police headquarters he'd learn what was going on without wasting any time. He strode up the steps and made his way to the detective bureau. McNeal was not in his office. A detective whose name Bannister did not know informed him that the captain was out of the building. “Know when he’ll get back?” Bannister asked. The detective did not. Bannister lingered, sitting on a corner of a desk. “Understand the girl hasn’t confessed yet?” It was a question, though not phrased as one. The other man shook his head. “She hasn’t,” he said, “and McNeal’s sore. We've got some more dope on her, though. Her name’s Juliet France and she's from Chicago.” a a a BANNISTER'S right eyebrow elevated, indicating interest. “We found that out over at the Tremont where she was registered,” the detective confided. “Personally I can't make the dame out at all. Either she’s dumb as they come or she's damned smart.” "I agree with you,” Bannister said heavily. "Anything new turn up this morning?” “Nothing except that other prisoner in the murder case, Scurlach, tried to brain a guard this morning.” “What?” “Sure. Went after him like a wild man. I didn't see it myself but they say this guard had brought Scurlach his breakfast and come back for the dishes. He was whistling a tune and when he opened the cell door Scurlach made a grab for him. The guard yelled but before the turnkey got there Scurlach had him down to the floor pounding him. The turnkey managed to get them separated.” “What was it all about?” “Well, It sounds crazy to me, but Scurlach claimed he thought the guard was kidding him. Because of the tune he was whistling.” “Oh,” said Bannister. “What was the tune?” “’Listen Carlotta.’ They say it’s one of the songs Tracy King used to sing. Kinda funny, isn’t it?” Bannister agreed that it was. He arose and strolled to the press room, but there was no one about. For half an hour longer he waited. McNeal did not appear and at the end of that time Bannister grew restless and left the building. He walked toward Sixth street more because of habit than any other reason. A clock in the window of a building he passed informed him that it was after 3 o’clock. He considered ways in which to spend an hour before going back to headquarters. He might drop in at a book store. Yes, he’d do that. % BUB HAWLEY'S was only a block and a half away. Having decided on his destination. Bannister walked more rapidly. Bocks, he decided, were what he needed. (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WAonIiNGTO.N TUBBS II

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE

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A' the (":frated leaders argued, Dorsky looked up svt’deniy. "There is Romero now!” he exc * ~d. All eyes turned up the trail 1 toward Cn~r. They saw Miguel Romero strolling jauntily into camp. "What detained you?” demanded Zveri. "I wanted to see what was beyond the inner wall,” replied the Mexican.

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“I saw magnificent buildings in ruins,” continued Romero. “What else?” asked Kitembo. “I saw a company of strange warriors,” answered Romero. “I could not fight them alone, so I came away.” What were they like?” pressed Kitembo. Romero described them. Kitembo frowned. “They are not men; they are demons.”

—By Ahem

OUT OUR WAY

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“Men or demons, we are going to take their city,” said Zveri angrily. “We must have its gold!” “You may go, white man,” returned Kitembo, “but you will go alone. My men will not go back there. They heard the voice of the demon warning them away.”

Bv Edgar Rice Burroughs

Zveri threatened, but neither Arab sheykh nor African chieftain could be moved. 'There is still a way,” said Romero. “When the American and Filipino come, there will be six of us. We six can take Opar.” Zveri only cleared his throat. Romero shrugged. “Os course, if you are afraid. ...”

PAGE 13

—By Williams

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—By Crane

—By Hamlin

"—By Martin