Indianapolis Times, Volume 47, Number 184, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 October 1935 — Page 10
PAGE 10
CUSTOMS MEN FIND PUZZLERS DESPITE RULES Ashes of Missionary Made One Problem Not ‘ln the Book.’ The United States Customs port in the Federal Building has worries. When it isn’t a question about the ashes ol a missionary lrom China there is a multitude oi other trials and triouiations. The regulations by which Wray E. Fleming, Indiana customs collector, operates his ofllce are specific. They tell the exact amount of duty to be charged on a shipment of camera lenses from Germany or a tub of fish from Newfoundland. Some Answers Missing But there are times when rule books are useless and Mr. Fleming must resort to a bit of pondering and head-scratching. Take the case oi the missionary’s ashes, for instance. They were tightly scaled in the conventional casket. They were shipped here for burial. The undertaker’s certificate was attached. “What would you do?" sighed Mr. Fleming. "We are supposed to open and examine all shipments. It wasn’t a question ol payment of duty—if they were just ashes. Chance for Smugglers “But we saw’ the possibility of a forged undertaker’s certificate and a clever attempt to smuggle in some dope, jade, jewels or a variety of dutiable articles.” Respect for the dead won. The ashes were buried, unopened. At least the casket was not opened in the customs office. Frequently attempts are made to mail or ship salacious literature. There’s no question about a lot of it an rf it is given a rapid ride to the urnace. But some of the old n” i,ers wrote in the days when ■ ,-adcs were called spades. “We try to be open-minded,’’ smiled Mr. Fleming. Imports Arc Varied Cakes of opium for use in compounding medicines, ivory from France, fishhooks from England and silkworms gut from Spain are a few of the unusual imports. The ivory is used as a base for miniature paintings. Fishermen tie leaders with the silkworm product. And you may be surprised to know that each spring several carloads of tomatos are sent here from Mexico and Cuba. Few attempts are made to smuggle valuable articles, Mr. Fleming said. If you know any one who lias slipped valuables past the customs you can get 25 per cent of the fine if you snitch on him. That’s very di.scourag.ng—to smugglers.
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CHATTER FIVE ( Continued) Hagan gaped at him, round-eyed. “What beautiful English!" he murmured. Larry grinned and tamped out his cigaret in the ashtray at his elbow. “So.” he said, “I dropped around and got acquainted with the manager of the theater—without, of course, letting on that I'm with the Department of Justice. And he said, after a while, that someone or other had told him that Evelyn has been seen right here in Dover recently. “The next step was fairly obvious. All of these monsters and their satelites are bound to play the hot spots. They just can't stay away from joints like this Golden Feather. So the thing to do was to keep snooping about these night clubs, keeping the eyes open for Evelyn Brady. Once we spot her. provided that all our information is correct, we ought to begin getting the scent of Wlngy; and if we do that, we'll be on Red Jackson's trail.’’ He put the sheaf of photographs back in his pocket. “So there you have it all,” he said. Hagan nodded absently and stared off into a cloud of drifting cigar smoked. At last he shrugged despondently. “You don't know how lucky you are,” he said. “Being with the Department of Justice. Look at the way you guys can operate, and then compare it with the way we have to work here in Dover. Now—l guess I wrote you, ’didn’t I, that I got promoted to sergeant in the detective bureau last month?” Larry nodded. a a a ‘”'4 T 7ELL,” said Hagan, “look at VV the difference. With you people, the chief problem is to find out who you want and where he is. With us, the tough part is to try to figure out some way of doing anything to the guy after we do find all that out. In the first place, we haven't got the facilities you people have. If he goes outside of Dover, W’e have to trust to luck that the coppers in the next town will co-operate with us and pick him up, and like as not they won’t If he stays in Dover, he’s probably a friend of some politician or other —so what happens? “We pick him up, book him and turn him over to the prosecutor; then he hires Dan Montague or some other high-po . 'red mouthpieces, and there’s some now-you-sce-it-now-you-don’t business off behind the scenes, and first thing we know he’s loose again, and we have to grin and take it. “And She worst of it is, the people see these ‘known criminals’ walking the street and say, ’Aw. the cops are all crooked or they’d arrest those birds.’ We’re not crooks! We want to do our duty just the same as you want to do yours ...” He looked earnestly at Larry, and there was something almost pathetic about the look on his honest, j brick-red face. Larry nodded un- 1 derstandingly. “I know, Mike,” he
said. “You don’t need to explain. Fortunately, the Department of Justice is immune to that sort of thing.” Hagan looked moodily at the tablecloth. Suddenly Larry remembered something. “What’d you say was the name of the lawyer who springs so many of these birds?” he asked. “Montague, Donald Montague. He’s got more crooks out of jail than you can shake a stick at. And it's not all because he's a good trial lawyer, either. His clients usually don't come to trial. Why?” “Oh—” Larry hesitated. “There’s a girl in Dover, comes from my home town. I feel sort of responsible for her. Anyhow, she works for him.” “Well,” said Hagan, “I suppose he's all right to work for.” “Yeah. But I met her here in the Golden Feather tonight. She said Montague had introduced her to Lanning, the proprietor. And although this was her first visit here, Lanning had already introduced her to some good-looking stranger and she’s been dancing with him.” Hagan frowned. “Tell her to lay off,” he advised. "Montague as a boss ought to be okay; Montague introducing a girl to this Lanning—he’s a snake, by the way—and Lanning introducing her to somebody else. . . . Larry, if the girl means anything to you, head it off somehow. I don't like the looks of it.” CHAPTER SIX Donald Montague signed che last sheaf of letters that lay on his desk, shoved the little pile aside, and said, “There —that’s done.” He looked up at Jean and said, “Well, if you’ll get these off, Miss Dunn, you might as well call it a day.” Jean picked up the letters and started for the outer office and her own desk. Glancing at her wrist watch as she did so, she exclaimed, “But Mr. Montague—it’s only halfpast eleven!” “What of it?” he asked with an air of paternal amusement. “It’s Saturday, isn’t it? I’ve a luncheon engagement and I’m not coming back this afternoon. You can use the extra hour, can’t you?” “Oh—of course—and thanks,” she said, slightly confused. She withdrew, prepared the letters for mailing, and five minutes later was on her way out. Reaching the street, she hesitated, uncertain. She had planned to do some odds and ends of shopping, to lunch quickly at some handy coffee shop, and then to hurry home and put in a busy, housewifely afternoon putting her wardrobe in order. But the day was bright and clear, the sky was a rich, spotless blue, and the wind that swung down the crowded street seemed to smell of open fields and woods, far beyond the city. Born and reared in a small town, she knew moments when the great city was almost unbearably oppres-
THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES
sive and confining; and she. suddenly realized that this afternoon she must manage somehow to get out into the open country, away from the crowds and the noises and the bustle and confusion of Dover. “I'd like to take a long hike across the fields,” she mused. “Let’s see — who could I get to go with me?” She thought of Bobby; but she knew he would be working all day, and she also knew that an afternoon in the country would revive his romantic instincts and cause him to speak pleadingly of marriage and a little apartment. Today she didn't want to be proposed to. . . . Hastily she mentally scanned her list of girl friends. One or another of them, surely, could be induced to join the expedition. “I’ll hurry heme and change, and then start telephoning,” she thought. She walked to the corner and caught her street car. When she had reached her apartment, bathed and changed her frock for a rough tweed skirt, woolen stockings, low-heeled shoes and a sweater, she discovered that she was ravenously hungry. “The telephoning can wait,” she told herself, and she went to the little kitchenette to prepare a lunch. Just as she was plugging in the percolator, the telephone rang. She scampered into the other room and answered it. “Miss Dunn?” said a man's voice. “Well, now isn’t that luck for you. I didn’t think I'd be able to raise you on a nice afternoon like this?” a a a THE voice was vaguely familiar but no more. She frowned and said, “Who is this?” A laugh came over the wire, “You wouldn’t break my heart and tell me you've forgotten me already?” said the voice, teasingly. “I’m the long, lanky guy that managed to get a dance with you at the Golden Feather the other night. Remember? My name’s Harkins—Sandy Harkins.” “Oh,” said Jean. “Oh, yes, Mr. Harkins.” “I suppose you’re just all loaded down with engagements this afternoon?” he drawled. “Why, yes, I am—l mean I'd planned to —” “Well, listen here, good-looking. I’ll bet down where you came from you like to go horseback riding on your afternoon off, don’t you?” “Horseback riding? Why, yes But—” “I thought so,” said Sandy. “You looked like a girl that knew' how to ride. Listen, how’d it be if I came around and took you out to a riding academy and we got a couple of nags and went for a little ride—huh, how about it?” To ride a horse again something she had not done since she left Maplehurst. She suddenly discovered that that w r as what she wanted to do this afternoon more than anything else; and before she knew that she had made up her mind she heard herself saying, “Oh, I’d love to.”
“Kayo, baby,” said the breezy Mr. Harkins. “I’ll be at your front gate in half an hour.” He hung up, and Jean sat for a moment gaping at the telephone. She had thought about him several times since meeting him in the night club, and w'hile his free-and-easy personality and infectious laugh had
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made a strong impression on her she had definitely decided that if he carried out his threat to call her up she would refuse to see him. After all, as Larry had pointed out, she knew nothing about him; and then, besides, Bobby and she were practically engaged, and it wasn't quite right for her to go out with other men . . . “But I do want to go riding,” she said aloud. And she hurried to her clothes closet to get out the riding costume which she had not worn tor months. 1 In precisely half an hour her bell
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destroyers—almost before she knew [ it. As the car swung away from the curb he looked at her briefly and commented, “You look good in that outfit, sister.” (To Be Continued)
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OCT. 11,1935
