Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 January 1937 — Page 14

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° BEGIN HERE TODAY The gaiety of the Christmas party at “Thunder Mesa,” the de Forest hacienda in New Mexico, has a tragic ending when -Pearl Sam de Forest, oldest of three brothers, is found dead with an ancient knife in his throat. Each of the de Forest brothers has the first name ‘“Pearl.” Pearl John is the youngest, Pearl Pierre, next is age, takes charge of affairs, orders everyone to remain at the hacienda. The others are: Tante Josephine, old and an invalid; Betty Welch, her young companion; Ramon Vasquez and Angelique Abeyta, guests at the party; Prof. Shaw, archeologist, and Bob Graham, tire salesman, at the hacienda waiting for his car to be repaired. The body of Pearl Sam disappears. Later Ramon and Angelique learn it has been burned. Then Pearl Pierre is found, lifeless, below a rocky ledge, the same knife that killed his brother in his throat. < Pearl John accuses Broken Shield, an Indian servant, of the murders. Next day Tante Josephine is dead and Brok- ‘ en Shield is missing. Prof. Shaw is investigating the basement of the house when someone springs on him. Later he_js found, unconscious. . ngeliqgue, who is jealous of Betty, finds a secret passage in the basement, forces Betty into this passage and closes the door. Bob quarrels with Pearl John and Ramon. They lock him in his room but _he escapes. He is pursued, turns his ankle and is brought back to the house. Later he, too, is locked in ‘the underground passageway with Beity. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

OB disregarded Betty's advice to save his matches and drew a cigaret lighter from his pocket. He lighted it and the tiny flame showed the relief and hope in the girl's face, as she smiled up at him. For a moment he forgot everything else, as he drew her to him. Then the fact that they were in an underground prison, being held there for some mysterious reason, came back with crushing force. Bob got to his feet and, with Betty’s aid, hobbled painfully about the small room. Nothing but the dust of ages and bare adobe walls met their eyes. Beyond was a similar room with a frieze of Indian painting near the top of the walls, the colors and design amazingly artistic and distinct.

“Evidently some beauty’s boudoir,” Bob remarked, looking at the wall with interest. “Too bad she didn’t leave a club or something behind, too.” The only exit seemed to be a low funnel, barely high enough for a man to crawl through. “Her old man wasn’t taking any chances, was he?” Bob grinned. “Hold the lighter, Betty. I'm going to take ailook. We can’t sit in this art gallery forever, and I'd much rather crawl than walk with my bum ankle.” While she held the light, he started into the little tunnel which, almost at once, began to pitch sharply downward. He struck a match to see where he was going. “I’m coming, too, Bob,””Betty said, behind him. “Ld go any place rather than stay alone again. Here's the lighter. It seems to have gone out. Maybe you can fix it.” But the lighter evidently had exhausted its fuel, for repeated snapping of the flint brought no results. u 4 ”

" IX matches left,” Bob announced. {Are you game to go

on? There must be some end to

‘ this.”

“Go on. I'm coming.” Betty answered, though her voice shook a little. : . Several minutes of carefully feeling their way along the musty tunnel, a distinctly fresher current of _air came to them from beyond. Bob struck one of the precious matches and peered ahead. \ “We're coming out of this,” he told the girl. “I can see the opening a little farther on.” started forward again. > Suddenly he stopped, drawing her close to him ,and whispered, “A light! TI just saw it. You'd better stay here while I do some scouting. No use telling the world where we are. If they're after us, let's let em worry a while.” Betty agreed and Bob crept away. She waited a minute, straining her eyes into the darkness, then decided that anything would be better than being trapped in this stifling place and rapidly followed him, a feeling of panic gripping her. Now she could hear footsteps. The next minute she collided with Bob’s heels. “I—I had to come on,” breathed, as he twisted around. His fingers on her lips was his only response, and Betty realized that they had come to an opening into a large room of some sort, a room that could be glimpsed faintly by thé light from a single candle above their heads. A man was kneeling on the floor of the room, his hands moving rapidly as though he were uncovering something. They watched curiously. It was impossible to tell who the man was, but Bob’s mind held no doubt on that score. Pearl John de Forest held the answer to the riddle of the place, and Bob still had a lengthy score to settle with that young man. Hardly daring to breathe, Bob and Betty watched the dim figure carefully brushing the dirt away. Suddenly their attention was caught by a sound from the opposite side. Someone else was coming into the room. Closer and closer stealthy footsteps crept past ‘the tunnel, but the man on the floor was too engrossed in what he was ‘doing to notice.

” 2 a

y ETTY gave a little gasp as the second man tensed, then sprang

she

| like a mountain lion on its prey. “The next instant everything was

‘ confusion. A kaleidoscopic whirl of thrashing arms and legs flashed girl’s restricted view. Clouds of dust rose from the loose dirt and Betty smothered a sneeze, -as Bob drew back, whispering close to her ear, “I'm going out there to help lick de Forest. If we can get

~ him down, we’ll get out. Stay here . till I come back. Here are the

hes.

. Before she could reply, he thrust

them into her hand, pulled himself

from the tunnel and swayed to his

feet. Betfy edged up into his place go that she could see what was going on, Was it the Indian guard who

was fighting with de Forest on the

floor? Over and over they twisted ~~ and rolled, first one on top, then ~~ the other.

The candle light threw i shadows on the scene

searched the floor.

as the men’s arms rose and fell in smashing blows. It was all grim and deadly, a fight to the death. Betty turned away with a shudder. It was primitive, brutal. She had never supposed men could fight with such animal ferocity. Then, at a movement from Bob, she leaned forward again to see what was happening. Both the fighters were on their feet now, as though an umpire had intervened, and were circling round and round, waiting for an opening. The Indian was facing her, but the other man’s back was toward her. As she watched, the candle was knocked from its place on a shelf on one wall, and went out. 8 7” 2 HE darkness that gripped the place made the mad struggle all the more horrible, and Bob, with his injured -leg, was out there, too. At any minute they might kill him. Betty thought wildly that she must do something. What would anything in the woridFmatter if he should be ——! She crawled out of the hole and, feeling) her way along the wall, started toward the place where she had seen the candle drop. If she could get it lighted, at least

ishe would know if Bob was safe.

With fingers, she Then the stub of candle was in her grasp. The next instant its light flared out again. That instant Bob Aisprang upon the man beside him, and Betty saw them go down, fighting furiously as they fell. The Indian rushed toward her. With a cry she shrank back, still clutching the candle. If he touched her she could at least thrust the flame into his face. She had never been so close to death and, to her utter amazement, she found that all terror had left her. “Back! Stay back, I say!” she heard herself shouting but Broken Shield did not seem to hear. He was looking, instead, at something

fumbling

‘ing.

he had snatched from the little shelf. Then she saw what it was—the obsidian knife! Betty shut her eyes, a sudden feeling of nausea coming over her. That hideous knife that already had killed two men. Who would he strike—de Forest or Bob? Her hands clenched into hard fists. She felt.the candle break, but she pressed forward. She must see, must warn Bob about that knife. n " un UT Bob was too busy to pay attention to any kind of warnSlowly but surely, his antagonist was pushing him back, back toward the farther wall. Bob’s bad ankle was buckling under him, and he was forced to hop awkwardly on his good foot, as he desperately gave back blow for blow. The Indian circled toward them, waiting for a chance to strike. “Bob, look out!” Betty screamed. “He’s got the knife!” Holding out the candle at arm’s length, she tried to see what was going on in the dark shadows. Pounding fists, crunching against bone and muscle, was all she could distinguish. Oh, would it never end! She must wake up and find it had all been a hhideous nightmare. Now the Indian was going to strike. For an instant she had a glimpse of the man who was fighting Bob, turning and looking up at the obsidian knife above his head. Then came the swift downward stroke of Broken Shield’s arm. Slowly the man in front of Bob turned, then crumpled to his knees. He was down and that black thing was in his neck. Betty caught her breath. Sh felt as though she were smother= ing, and her own knees suddenly refused to hold her weight. She too, was falling down into a soft darkness that rose to clutch her.

(To Be Continued)

UB HUBBARD was still at his desk when the phone rang. He had not looked at the clock, did not realize that it° was lunch time, or that his secretary, Miss Dale, had already gone out.

“Hello . . . Oh, yes, Miss Dale.” He wondered why in the world she should be calling him during her lunch hour.

“You want what? You want me to help you? What's happened, for Pete’s sake? . . . You want me to come and meet you? Pretend we had a date? Say, what is this—a gag? Where are you, anyway?” “At the Rendezvous,” Miss Dale replied. “I—I know you think I have an awful nerve, but—there’s no one else I can call on, Mr. Hubbard. I've made hardly any friends in ew York, except him — except — this man.” Bub Hubbard sat up straight. He glared. “What man are you talking about? Please cut out the riddles!”

” ® 2

N the empty office, his voice boomed. Then he instantly was sorry for his tone. No use shouting at the kid. Naturally, she did have a life outside the office of Hubbard, Inc. Strange, he hadn’t thought about that before—had only thought of her as a very efficient secretary. “If you'd just come and meet me, Mr. Hubbard. Don’t you see, he— this man I mentioned—will think I had a date with you. And maybe he’d be jealous. I mean—oh, I know that’s an old trick, and sort of crazy, but——~ ’

Her voice broke. She must think an awful lot of the guy, thought Bob. “Where is this chap?” he asked. “What make you think——”

“He—he’s here at the Rendezvous now. Oh, Mr. Hubbard, if you'll only do it! You see, when I walked in alone, there he was—with——"

“Another gal,” Bub supplied. “I get you.” He laughed. Women were so goofy when they were in love. He wouldn't have believed a little mouse like Ellen Dale had a boy friend—never had thought before how that funny little face of hers would look, turned up adoringly to some man’s. 1 - 8” un »

“PP UT say,” he went on, “if I help you get this guy, where will I get another secretary?” He didn’t like that thought very much. He had got used to Miss Dale over there at the corner desk, and felt a sudden pang at the thought of some strange person in her place. “Besides,” he said, “stunts like that never work— women have tried ’em for years. It never pays to force things. You just bide your time and act indifferent. If you wait, the guy will probably—”" “But I have waited,” she cut in, “and got nowhere. He's a very funny person—he’s the kind ‘that needs to be given a jolt te have his eyes opened. But if you don’t want to help me...” “Wait a minute! If you think so darn much of this fellow, he must be worth a try. I'll come—but don’t blame me for any broken bones.” “Oh, Mr. Hubbard, thank you so much! Ill be at a table near a window. You'll see me.” Bub saw her, all right, as soon as he entered the restaurant. He stood for a moment in the doorway. Poor Kkid—she looked scared to death. It sort of gave her a radiance.” Poor little Ellen . . . Gosh! That was the first time he had ever, thought of her by her first name!

2 2 z

HE had seen him now. She was smiling, but her face was pink with embarrassment. Naturally. Ellen Dale was not the sort of girl who could stalk a man—even a man she was in love with—in a public dining room, and look comfortable doing it. Bub had a sudden fierce desire to wring the fellow’s neck. Putting a sweet kid like Miss Dale on the spot this way. . . . He walked over to her. “Well, here I am,” he said. “How are you, darling?” That ought fo give her boy friend a twinge, if he was within earshot in the crowded room. Bub entered into the spirit of

the thing atipnce. He held Miss

Lunch With His Secretary

By Maude Barron Williamson Daily Short Story

Dale’s hand. He looked soulfully into her eyes. It was easy.

Miss Dale, however, didn’t seem |

to play up to him very well. She sat as primly as a little schoolteacher, gazing at him with a fright= ened expression in here eyes. She let him do most of the talking, and she scarcely ate a thing—just nibbled at her food.

# 2 2

INALLY, toward the end of the " meal, Bob suddenly stopped short in the middle of a sentence and stared at her. Her eyes, round and very brown, had filled with tears! Bub was aghast. “What— what is it?” he pleaded. “Don’t cry, Ellen. Listen—I—" u “You—you're just being kind,” she choked. “You're sorry for me, that’s all.” “That’s all, nothing!” He took both her hands. ‘I'm crazy about you, honey! I—I—" Ellen Dale shook her head sadly. “Listen, Ellen, can't you forget that other guy? Say, where is he, anyhow! Show him to me and I'll —the bum!” : “He’s over there,” Ellen said, in a low voice. “At that second table, with his back toward us. He's with the girl in the green hat. She—she’s pretty.” : ” ” ” Bu looked, stared a momen® then looked back at Ellen, and suddenly laughed out loud. “She can’t hold a candle to you, Loney!” . : He turned again, and caught the eye of the girl in the green hat. She suddenly smiled, and touched the arm of her escort, who swung round io look at Bub. Then, they both rose and came toward Bub’s table. Bub was watching Ellen out of the corner of his eye. Was she going to cry again? : “Hi!” said the girl, as she and her escort reached Bub’s side. are you doing here?” Bub grinned, and rose. “Just getting acquainted -with my secretary—Miss Ellen Dale, he introduced. “She took me to lunch, but I hope to take her to dinner —tonight and many nights!” Then he turned toward Ellen, whose face was a fiery crimson. “I want you to meet my brother and his wife, darling . . .” THE END.

1937, by _ United Feature Syndicate, Inc.)

(Copyright,

The characters in this story are fictitious.

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Q—How many members of Protestant and Roman Catholic churches were in the United States in 1916?

A—Protestants, 25,847,904; man Catholics, 15,721,815.

Q—What drink did Joan Crawford ask for at the ship’s bar in the motion picture, “Chained.” A—Sherry Flip.

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A—Albert Francois Lebrun was Slotted May 10, 1932, to succeed Paul umer, who was assassinated Ma, 5, 1932. 0 oR oe y

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CROSSWORD PUZZLE

HORIZONTAL Answer to Previous Puzzle

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THE MILK THAT TASTES LIKE CREAM

‘SPECIAL GUERNSEY