Indianapolis Times, Volume 46, Number 51, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 July 1934 — Page 17

TCLY 9, 1931.

The Amateur Gentleman st- ==By Jeffrey Farnol —=

BEGIN Hr R£ TOO%I Dr’ermlnetf to b*core a gentleman. Barnabas Bartv. at'er receitlnf n inher.tance of seven hundred Thousand sounds, sets out for Londin. His father, John Bar r, former Er.gl.ih championship or .it fighter cppo * the son. who, ra.r.ed bv hi* par*?.’ and Na'tr Bell, a’.ao a former ehnmpiors. bests in* father tr. a fight _ Journey;ng to London, young Bartr ehar.ges hi surname to Beveriey. He meets *he captain the Bosun young • Be: ms ?:r Mortimer Carr, a a: <1 lad- C'.eor.e Meredith. He f ( e w;>h Ladv Cleone and bes-* 8 M .>r’imr in a ftst duel as a gesture r{ protection to the girl. Beerier empirr.s Peterbr. a former p sacher as a valet, and buys a home ui London He encounter* Chichester, a rogue, a has influence over Ronald Barryrr.a.r.e. brother of Ladv Cleone. who it in the r.utcne* of Jasper Oaunt. a money lender. Be r.ev pr >rr.:'s Ladv C>one he will a.d her brother. Tn viscount, also in love tth Lady Cieir.e. protests. ps;nnng out that Barrymaine’a escapades have caused him to be ostracized tv London society. Nevertheless. Beverlev declares his intention of carrying out hi* promise. NOW GO ON t\ ITH THE STORY INSTALLMENT FIFTY-THREE •Continued! ther* now, my dear IN fellow, this is the Oarden.” • G and aid Birnabas, glancing about. ‘Where?'’ Here, sir; we're in It—Hatton Garden. Charmingly rustic spot, you'll observe, delightfully rural retreat! Famous for strawberries once. I believe—flowers too, of ccur.-e Talking of flowers, sir, a few of ’em still left to—ah—blush un eon? I m one. Barrymaine’s another —a violet? No. A lily? No. A blu h-ro e? Well, let us say a blush-rose, but damnably run to seed, like the rest of us. And—ah—talking of Barrymaine, I ought, perhaps, to warn you that we may find him a trifle—queer—a leetle touched perhaps.” And Mr. Smiwle raised an invisible glass, and tossed down its imaginary contents with an expression of much beatitude. “Is he given to—that sort of thing?” ‘‘Sir.'’ said Mr. Smiwle, ‘‘can you blame one who seeks forgetfulness in the flowing bowl—and my friend Barry has very much to forget—ran you blame him?” "No. poor fellow!” "Sir. allow me to tell you my fri°nd Barry no man’s pity, though I confess I could wish Chichester was not quite so generous—in one respect.” "How?” "In—ah—in keeping the flowing bowl continually brimming, my dear fellow. "Is Mr. Chicester a friend of his?" "The only one. with the exception of yours obediently, who has not deserted him in his adversity.” "Why?” "Because, well—between you and me, my dear fellow, I believe his regard for Barry's half-sister. * the Lady Cleone is largely accountable in Chichester's case: as for myself, because, as I think I mentioned, the hand of a Smiwle once given, sir. Is never withdrawn, either on account of plague, poverty, pestilence of Jews—dammen! "Thus way. my dear fellow!" and turning into Crass street, up toward Leather lane. Mr. Smiwle halted at a certain dingy door, opened it, and showed Barnabas into a dingier hall, and so. leading the way up the dingiest stairs in the world, eventually ushered him into a fairsized. though riingv room: and being entered, immediately stood upon tip-toe and laid a finger on his lips. ‘ Hush! the poor fellow's asleep, but you'll excuse him. I know.” Barnabas nodded, and. softly approaching the couch, looked down upon thp sleeper, and. with the look, felt his heart leap. a a 11 INSTALLMENT FIFTY-FOUR A YOUNG face he saw, delicately featured, a handsome face with disdainful lips that yet drooped in pitiful weariness, a face which, for all its youth, was marred bv the Indelible traces of fierce, uneoverned passions. And gazing down upon these features. so dissimilar in expression, yet so strancelv Lke in their beauty and

This Curious World Ferguson

}//'• Ha IMk lIS’ I THAT CHEW s grain 97/ dH' I\g' I INTO DOUGH, MAKES °° USH NTO V a ictvtcc iZc° /tte THCEAD-FINNED FISH... <£T . FOUND IN THE AMAZON R.IVER., LEAPS OUT OF THE WATER. AND LAVS "s r ".'?- on .'\e='-vanc-ng plants. "

ELEPHANTS seldom lie down while in the wild state. Due to the fart that their legs are like supporting columns, there is no stress when the animal stands. NEXT—How far can insects see?

lofty pride. Barnabas felt his heart leap,—because of the long lashes that curled so black against the waxen pallor of the cheek: for in that moment he almost seemed to be back in the greem morning freshness of Annersley Wood, and upon his lips there breathed a name, Cleone. But all at onre the sleeper stirred, frowned and started up with a bitter imprecation upon his lips that in a vacant stare. "Why, Barry.” cried Mr. Smiwle, leaning over him. “my dear boy, did we disturb you?” “Ah, Dig—is that you? Fell asleep —brandy, perhaps, and—ha.—your pardon, sir!” and Ronald Berrymaine rose, somewhat unsteadily, and, folding his threadbare dressing gown about him, bowed, and so :tood facing Barnabas, a little drunk and very stately. “This is my friend, of whom I told you,” Mr. Smiwle hastened to explain. “Mr. Barnabas Beverley, —Mr. Ronald Barrymaine.” “You are—welcome, sir,” said Mr. Barrymaine, speaking with elaborate care, as if to make quite sure of his utterance. “Pray be seated, Mr. Bev'ley. We—we are a little crowded I f-fear. Move those boots off the chair. Dig. Indeed my apartment might be a little more commodious. but It's all I have at p-present, and by God!” he cried, suddenly fierce, “I shouldn't have even this but for Dig here! Dig's the only f-friend I have in the world—except Chichester. Push the brandy over. Dig. Os course there's —Cleone, but she’s only a sister.: after all. Don’t know what I should do if it wasn’t for Dig—d-do I, Dig? And Chichester of course. Give Mr. i Bev'ley a chair. Dig. I’ll get him— j glass!”

Hereupon Mr. Smiwle hurried forward with a chair v.hich, like all the rest of the furniture, had long ago seen its best days, during which maneuver he contrived to whisper hurriedly: “Poor Barry's decidedly ‘touched’ to-day, a little more so than usual, but you'll excuse him I know', my dear fellow. Hush!” for Barrymaine, who had crossed to the other end of the room, now turned to came toward them, swaying a little, and with a glass in his hand. "It's rickety, sir, you'll notice,” said he. nodding. “I—l mean that chair—dev'lish rickety, like everything else 'bout here—especially myself, eh, Dig? B-but don’t be alarmed, it—will bear you, sir. D-devil of a place to ask—gentleman to sit down in,—but the Spanswick hasn't been round to clean the place this week—damn her? S-scarcely blame her, though—never gets paid—except when Dig remembers it. "Don’t know what I should do without D-Dig,—r ais e and twenty pounds yesterday, damme if I know where! said it was watch—but W'atch went weeks ago. Couldn't ever pay the Spanswick. That’s the accursed part of it—pay, pay! debt on debt, and—n-nothing to pay with. All swallowed up by that bloodsucker—that ” “Now, Barry!” Mr. Smiwle expostulated. “my dear boy ” “He's a cursed v-vampire, I tell you!” retorted Barrymaine, his pale cheeks suddenly flushed, and his dark eyes flashing in swift passion, —“he’s a snake.” a a a NOW, my dear fellow, calm yourself.” “Calm myself. How can I, when everything I have is his, when everything I g-get belong to him before—curse him—even before I get it! I tell you, Dig. he’s—he's draining my life away, drop by drop! He’s g-got me down with his foot on my neck—crushing me into the mud. I say he's stamping me down into hell—damn him!” “Restrain yourself. Barry, my boy, remember Mr. Beverley is our guest ” (To be continued.)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

Ijv / #15,000 FOR (AY 'VT et sow / FIRST *W|§f Jf SOLD MINE,''THE UTILE If THINS WE DO IS TO EAT f phoewe" / ic. non I iK # 3O worth of steaks, V?jg i V SMOTHERED WITH TOW, CHOPS M l \UUZZAM / —-‘BOYS, then lV\ gonc* TO PUSH

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

I CAM OUTFIT YOU BOYS Ilf BEEN THERE, MYSELF/ M WWEN YOU GET TWERE, LOOK UP SHONTASSE IS SMARTER f V/ITH EVERYTHING FROM A W HUNTING AND fAN INDIAN GUIDE NAMED SHONTASSS.... Y 1 WTIS' MIS KHOW.WG I CANOE TO A FLASHLIGHT.... (1 FISHING... AFTER YOU I HELL TAKE YOU WHERE YOU WANTTO j S "| LL '\ WRACKS...AND MB HAS f*... I BET THAT INF,AN B w AND, WHATS MORE, X \s -STOCK YOUR SUPPLIES, ==* G 0... AND ME KNOWS THOSE .rs / 7& BE - ... HE HAS EYES LIKE * COULD HEAt? A FALLING X TWAT NORTH COUNTRY AT FALLEN LEAF, YOU'LL WOODS/ l B '* CW / A HAWK ...BEST TRACKER > ] arch AT FI FTf YARDS 1 I

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

f ( HE'S GONE ! HE MUSTA BEEN TIPPER OFF>V / C INTO THE TUNMEL, BOYS! T > / / BUT WHAT V COPS ARE SAPS, QUIET. NOW. OPEN V f STICK ‘EM UP IT'S A CINCH. J /'F DEV'VE \ I TEtt VA. THERE W THE GATE AMD- /? L VHI r £ • 1 to THE GANGSTERS ARE MAKING, V' FUTILE SEARCH FOR iaPROMi. /O \LNV\a HASTV GETAWAY THRU THE BASEMENT, y ./,oVo 1934 BY we* service, inc T REG us. PAT orr ' | is J

ALLEY OOP

fTHAT DOOTSV 8080 TOOK £fBT 1 1 SUPPOSIN' OOOLA F%OM OOP MAKES WF OH. OK.' gfe* YC^ ' Mi r n T u' )i wasTO^ELL IT EVIDENT TO ME - THAT ,|l THERE !§ Bml ™ \ ,™ T i,,.

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

* ' ‘ A ‘ /“ ' 00 ooQo<,, ** i * ;; \e AGATHA I SAW’tW OUEtt ON TH OH OH' HERE COMES TOASTIN , SCAGSE \ STOLE GOLF COURSE THIS A.M. QONNNE. , NOW '. LOOKS ALL RONN\E A WAV FROM 'ER N SHE DIDN'T E\)EN BOTHERED,TOO \ \ E>ET LAST NIGHT SPEAK T’ME j SHE GAVE 14 T. / .. ’ Zl

TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE

It~was a disheartened company of whites that approached their base camp after a monotonous and uneventful journey. Zveri and I\utch were in the lead, followed by Zora, while s considerable distance to the rear, Romero and Mori walked side by side.

Keep COOL While You Shop-Downstairs at Ayres

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Wayne Colt was sitting in the shade of one of the shelters and the blacks were lolling in front of another, as Zveri and Ivitch came into tight. Colt rose. Then Zveri spied him. “You traitor!" he cried. “11l get you if it's the last thing I do on earth.”

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

VI WELL,WHY GIT EXCITED! urr teg GOME TER ME\ now < lck? ™ QAME HOLES |Kj\ WARDEN, TH' SHERIFF H^ N r . T -!; HIDE FER HORNS. \ all Been HERE, AM 1 /> t H' AM A DOE ah Vnever noticed it . ; L DURIN' PE HONTIM : kSOM-AN' DEV'S A ji. down NOWVS / ’ L SENTENCE FOH / \ \ CILUSTADOE. /THERE EIGHT MONTHS') ' / AN< - TAkE e. 1934 BV HEA INC. 'THE AWAKE N I NIG T M WtG U S jp*T OFT,

BUT, DOOTSV 8080, ) WELL - TH’ fIF ALLEY OOP/WELL, VOU AINT \ ip& %, jjSDI I TELL VOU I POUND EVER FINDS A COIN' T 1 TELL ’IM- WuSL-y *&*"*-' HAD NOTHING TvOUR FOOTPRINTS- OUT ABOUT /( SO HE WON'T HO' W TO DO WITH X BUT, OF COURSE HE THIS, HE'LL \ \ FIND OUT f WON'T HE, J n I . ..1 i Fr.iFu C F,. vou/y'

/ tt w ri ; HY.O , E>OOTS'. SAiV , ; 1 KNEW <T !HE HAS A PLEASE DONT | OKAY ' 1 DONT C ARE*" OH—\'M AFRAID * HUNCH THAT MEEE.E O\SAPPOINT § WHAT \-\ MEWV,VOO 1 CAN’T KEEP MV ; HE'D BETTER CONTACT ME DATE >VU\TV\ XOU );. AGATHA N'TRY TO St SO f SOOTS VOu'ut GOT TH\S evening 1; PATCa Things oP LONESOME . ;' ENERYTainG .INCLUDING I An' ME \ WHEN YOU LOOK Ova AHH .Ron nie 1!’. i J V uP ~x i'ue looked y^‘ r ~~ v : ; v \ forward all day [%K \ fbmSl l

As he spoke he drew his revolver and fired point blank at the unarmed American. His first shot grazed Colt's side without breaking the skin; but Zveri fired no second shot, for almost simultaneously with the report of his own shot another rang out behind him.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Peter Zveri dropped his pistol and, clutching his back, staggered drunkenly upon his feet, Ivitch wheeled about. “Zora!” he cried, “what have you done?” “What I have been waiting to do for twelve years,” replied the girl. “What I have been waiting for since I was a child.”

COMIO PAGB

—By Williams

—tiy Rlossei*

—by Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin