Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 January 1937 — Page 28
PAGE 28
BEGIN HERE TODAY Paul 1, King of Northumbra, becomes private citizen Paul Ferrone when he abdicates for the love of Ardath Richmond, Canadian-born actress. Paul's younger brother, Joseph, succeeds to the kingship. With calm finality, formal abdication papers at his royal lodge, says, “Well, gentlemen, it is all over,” Then, after briefly wishing his brother well, he speeds to the royal airport, boards a plane and soars off into the night, leaving his empire behind him forever. Paul and Ardath marry, choose a charming villa on Bay St. Francis, Paul revels in his new freedom. He's deliriously happy with his bride. And then one day he walks into the nearby village of San Lorenzo. He overhears curious tourists asking a shopkeeper where that “King and his girl friend have hid out.” Angry, terrified lest he be recognized, Paul turns back to the villa, thinking only of protection behind its walls. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
The characters and situations in this story are wholly fictional and imaginary and are not intended to portray any actual persons or events.
CHAPTER THREE
“YP UT dearest,” Ardath was saying, pouting prettily, “these are all people we know. There won't be any strangers there.” “I know,” said Paul. “It’s just that—that—oh, I guess the truth is I hate to run the gantlet of the tourists in San Lorenzo. I hate to see them all swinging their cameras at me, to hear them jabbering, ‘Look —there he is!’ in five languages.” ° He grinned ruefully. “I suppose it’s be all right, though, especially since it’ll be fairly dark.” “And anyway,” said Ardath, “they won’t be at the Casino. That, thank heaven, is too expensive for the ordinary run of tourist. Besides, the countess is expecting us. It would look a bit boorish, if we turned her down at the last minute.” “I suppose so.” Reluctantly, Paul turned to go to his dressing room and change to evening attire. “Though I must say,” he said, “the Countess di Marco is not precisely a lady for whose good opinion I would lie awake nights and worry.” “Why, Paul! She’s nice—" began
Paul signs ‘he |
King wiflsonf a counfry
groups, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Paul found himself sitting with Ardath and the countess at a little table while Reggie mounted to the dais, sat at the piano and burst into song. “Song” was not quite the word, perhaps. What Reggie did was to repeat verses in a manner half way between singing and ordinary reciting, playing an apparently improvised accompaniment and underlining the significant parts of his ditties with no end of eyebrowarching and head-wagging. The verses themselves were mildly risque—the sort of thing Paul had heard in a dozen night clubs in his native capital. Reggie's insistent smirking gave them an offensiveness they did not intrinsically possess. Reggie got down, at last, to be surrounded by gushing folk who cried, “Reggie, how simply marvelous!” When the countess announced that Mademoiselle de Lys of the Deauville Casino would now favor-them with her sensational fan dance, Paul excused himself and wandered to the balcony that overlooked the water. He stood there, leaning idly against a pillar and smoking in silence, when a bulky shape appeared in the doorway. n ” 4 xe H—it’s you, Ferrone?” said a gruff voice. The shape came nearer and resolved itself into the person of Baron Lanzia, one of the wealthiest industrialists in all Northumbria. He swaggered. over to the railing, looking—as he always did— as powerful and as ruthless as a grizzly. Lighting a cigar, he stood surveying Paul with an expression on his face which Paul could not quite make out. “You know,” said the baron suddenly, “good job, your quitting when you did. Good job for me, I mean. Those tours of yours. They didn’t do me any good.” “Tours?” said Paul. He had never liked Baron Lanzia; nor did he like the half-contemptuous way in which the man said “Ferrone.” “Uh,” said the baron. “Down into the coal fields aorund Lazare. Depressed areas — you know. Stirred up too much talk. Made my stock-
Ardath, but Paul had gone. He undressed and bathed moodily, and told himself that he must not quarrel with Ardath—he must not, for he was all she had and she was all | he had. And as he told himself | that, he stopped midway in the act of toweling himself, and said, “Why, | that’s absurd! We have everything ! —freedom, our whole lives to do | with as we wish.” And then he thought of the petty | things that had come in to limit | that freedom in the six weeks that | they had been at the villa; the gaping, unendurably nosy tourists who | lurked outside the gates with cam- | eras to take pictures of Ardath and | himself; the buzz of comment that | followed them when they walked | through the town or appeared in | any of the shops; the reporters who | had dogged their every footstep on |
that trip to Milan a fortnight ago; | |
the remarks that he overhead now | and then in the town; the feeling | it all gave him of living in public, | so to speak, of “being followed everywhere by the accumulated busybodyness of the whole world, 2 zr ” E crossed to a cabinet in the wall, took down a bottle and poured a drink, to lift himself out of ,this depression. He had, he reflected, ‘been using this remedy rather frequently of late. Oh, well, the tourist season would be over by and by. Or maybe, as time went on, people would simply get used to the idea of an ex-King being around and would stop making such a fuss. He finished his dressing and went to rejoin Ardath.They drove down the road, sped through the town and went to the . gimerack gilt-and-stucco Casino. Twilight had not yet deepenedtio night, and the Casino's festoons of lights looked harsh and garish against the soft dusk. Long rows of expensive cars were parked by the entrance. Paul added his car to the rest and led Ardath inside. The Countess di Marco met them in the vestibule. She was small and pert, with black hair and alert eyes. A decade ago she had been spoken of as “petite”; now, as the years inexorably added successive increments of flesh, she was more an a little plump. In another decade she would be openly and unashamedly fat. “Darlings!” she said extending a hand to each. “I'm so glad you're here, Reggie Van Twyne had come, and he has the most scandalous collection of songs for us. Do come right in!” : They entered a large room. At one end, there was a bar; at the other, a raised dais where a small but ~ energetic orchestra was doing things to a torch song. A few couples were dancing; others sat at little tables, sipping drinks; still others came and went through the double doors that gave on the game rooms; but most of the guests—of whom there were at least 50 — were simply standing about in groups, chatting. . Ardath, Paul saw, had been mistaken; they were not- all people he knew. He did recognize many of them, however; they were members of the gay sporting set that drifted from one international capital to another, from this playground to the next, dedicated, apparently, to the self-imposed task of filling every minute of life with activity, whether the activity meant anything in particular or not, so that there. could never be one moment of boredom, of solitude or of reflection. - » = = SLIM young man with an oid face disengaged himself from ga group and came over to them. The Countess di Marco slipped an arm about his waist and said, “Reggie Van Twyne—Mr. and Mrs. Paul Ferrone.” She said it rather pridefully; not yet had the thrill gone out of introducing the former King of Northumbra as plain “mister.” Reggie Van Twyne bowed. He was an American, of the type known to the Sunday supplements as “rich young playboy.” Paul knew him by repute; a gay youngster, not particularly deprayed or‘ vicious, but cursed from childhood by the fact that he had always had unlimited freedom and unlimited money. He was now in his third marriage, to an ex-queen of the Follies; she was standing by the bar, glass in hand, talking with a swarthy nobleman from some forgotten duchy in southeastern Europe,
Reggie Van Twyne, it seemed,
fancied himself 2- an entertainer, |.
Presently he would sing -for them.
{all the eight years of his tife.
holders ask a lot of silly questions. No good.” He puffed a cloud of smoke derisively. | . “Glad - you got out,” he said.| “Maybe the stockholders’ll go back | to sleep now.” He turned and glanced in through the open door. “Say, that fan dancer's thrown away her fan. Better come on in.” He stepped inside. Paul remembered his iast tour to the Lazare coal fields, along the north coast of Northumbra. that hopelessly depressed region | some six months ago, and had seen!
| sation broke out again.
He had gone into | g
by Robert Bruce
© N.EA. Service Inc 1937
there poverty and degradation such | as he had never before dreamed of. Hardest of all to endure had been the heartbreaking look of hope and trust with which the jobless miners and their families had greeted him, Their king, they had been sure, could do sonfething for them—what, they did not know, but surely something. ” ” ”
* HERE had been so little that he could do. He could, and did, give money to a relief fund; he could, and did, focus national attention on the problem by the mere fact that he went there; beyond that, he had been powerless. It was that visit which had clinched his feeling that the kingship was a sham and a pretense—what good was a King who could do nothing to help the most desperately needy of his subjects? It was that which had helped him to choose as he had chosen, when his hawk-nosed prime minister had at last told him that he must give up either his throne or his desire to marry Ardath Richmond. ] And now Baron Lanzia, head of the - vast combine which exploited the Lazare coal fields, taunted him with the reminder that that trip had had some effect, after all! Paul savagely threw away his | cigaret and returned to the bar. Mademoiselle de Lys had gone. The orchestra was playing loudly, people’s voices were raised, everyone seemed to be talking at once. Nearby, Reggie Van Twyne’s pretty wife, her face flushed, was arguing with the Eastern potentate and an Argentine polo player. “Can, too,” she said shrilly. “Can dance jus’ as good as de Lys ever did. Don’ need fan. Look!” She made her way suddenly to the end of the room by the orchestra and said something to the director. There was a ruffle of drums, which stopped the conversation and drew all eyes to her. “Fan dance! By me!” she cried. Stooping, she peeled her gown off over her head and tossed it blithely away. It fell on the neek of the drummer, who leered delightedly. Before she could go any farther, Reggie was at her side. Grinning shamefacedly, he managed to pick her up in his arms and carry her away, while someone retrieved the discarded frock and bore it after them. The orchestra struck up a new tune and the wave of conver-
Paul felt a sudden, acute desire to get out of the Casino and away from the vacuous folk who peopled it. As he looked about him for Ardath, he heard a man’s voice, at his elbow. Someone was asking him, “Well, Paul, was it such a barain—giving up your throne for . . . THIS?”
(To Be Continued)
ILLY was going to pray harder than he had ever prayed in He was going to ask God to make him a grown-up man overnight, as big as his cousin Jake. His father had said he could have a horse like Jake’s when he was bigger, so he wanted to grow up fast. He glanced at his latest measuring mark on the door amd calculated how much higher the new one would be if he were as tall as Jake next morning. And while he was at it, he would ask God to do something about his stubby, turned-up nose. - And he’d like his blue eyes made brown like Jake’s. and his blond hair made red like Jake's. “God,” he prayed, on his knees by his bed, “I know you can do every one of those things, and it’s terrible, waiting to grow to get a horse like Jake’s, with a fancy bridle and saddle.” Often, Jake had allowed him to ride Charger up and down the road in front of the house, and he had
MAN'S ESTATE
By Alice Curtice Moyer-Wing Daily Short Story
jumped up and down in the middle of the bed, yelling at the top of his voice, Then he opened all the windows, so that he would sleep in a draft, and hoped that he would get pneumonia and die. . , . ” n 8 1 HEN he awcke next morning, | he was all tucked in and cozy. . . Mothers knew everything! But he would show the werld that he was bad and proud | of it! | When he went down to breakfast, | his father and mother continued their conversation as if he had not | joined them. No one looked at him. | He cried himself to sleep that | night. . . . Nobody cared. . . . But| he thought once that he felt some- | body's arms about him. He half! remembered it when he awoke in| the morning. He hadn’t set the alarm, and he] was startled to see that it was 9 | o'clock! He would be late to school! ! Then he remembered. Suppose he | were? He wanted to be late. He
|
heard his mother say that, if he had a horse like Charger, she would send him on errands by himself. He rose and wound the alarm | clock he had borrowed from the | cook. He set it-for 6 o'clock. = = 2 ILLY awoke to the shrill clanging of the alarm clock. My, but he was sleepy! Then he remembered. He lay very still for a moment, frightened. No telling what had happened. He might be six feet tall. He stuck up his head to look, to see how far he had reached. Why, it looked as though he hadn’t grown a bit! He jumped out of bed and stood by his measuring mark. Not an inch! Terribly disappointed, he sat down to figure out the trouble. There was a hitch somewhere in his praying. Maybe he had been too insistant about small particulars— such as fancy trimmings for the bridle and saddle. He would change his prayer. | Another night. Another morning. Still, he just reached his measuring mark! “And, God,” he said, on this third
for a while—I don’t need the saddle right away.” 2 3 ” N the fourth night, he made further concessions: “If it’s too much trouble, God, to change both my eyes—well, you know there’s a boy at school with a blue one and a brown one. And I could ‘make my hair red with pokeberry juice. And you don’t need to bother about my nose if it will help you any. And about all these other boys that are wanting to be big right away—I've waited till this fourth night on them, so I think it ought to be my turn by now.” When, after all this, he awoke the next morning to find he was still the same size, it was just too much! him. Dressing quickly, he ran down to the kitchen and made faces at the cook. At the breakfast table, he jostled the arm of the maid so that she spilled a glass of milk over the clean white cloth. At school, he got so many black marks for misbehavior that his teacher gave him a note to carry home to his mother. At supper that evening, he talked with his mouth full of ‘food and tipped his chair . over backward ‘when he was sent from the table. When ready for bed, he pasted chewing gum over his measuring
And, indeed, after half an hour of
gtrolling in and out among the
x
night, “I could even ride bareback |
An imp of deviltry seized |
was bad. . . . When he went downstairs, he| heard voices out on the porch. He | peeked out. Jake was there. | “Why, hello!” said Jake. “Here | he is now.” | Billy’s heart warmed. “Here he is now.” Just as if they had been talking about him—-saying some- | thing good about him. | “Jake has come to see you, dear,” | said his mother. “He couldn't leave | for college without saying good- | by.” ®. 8 on i OTHER calling him | “dear.” - Billy felt his throat go tight. Then, Jake took him by the arm, just as if he was as big as anybody. | “Old pard, come out to the gate and take a look at your horse. I'll have to have him today, but he’ll be ! brought over tomorrow morning. | I'm giving Charger to you.” ‘Billy gasped. Jake going to col- | lege Charger his . ‘his! And being only 8, Billy sat’ down on the grass and cried. i Next morning, something was on his chair by the bed. He rubbed | the sleep out of his eyes. A new saddle! And a bridle! After breakfast,r as he rode with his father over the fields, he said, “Daddy—Dad—I guess I was an aw3 mess when I was little, wasn’t And that night, 8 again temporarily, he knelt beside his bed and said, “God, I guess you know your own business a heap better than I can know it for you. Amen.” THE END
(Copyright, 1937. by United Featu Syndicate, Inc.) Te
The characters in this story are fictitious. —
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.mark on the door, and dared the world togtry to make him pray. He |
ERanat. DEL SON
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AND BESIDES YOUR. SALARY, YOURE A STOCK HOLDER IN TH' COMPANY = JUST YOU AN' MEa~AND
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By Sylvia
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LI'L ABNER
HAVIN OBTAI CERMISSION FROM HIS
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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS
‘rs NOT MUCH OF A JoB, “TON, BUT MAYBE 1 CAN WORK MYSELF UP! AND, BESIDES, NOW I CAN TAKE YoU PLACES !!
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ASSIS ANT JANITOR
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GRIN AND BEAR IT
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GIVE FOOZY / I'M A WARRIOR! \GIVE FOO 4.
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(AWRIGHT, FUNNY LOOKIN! —\OU CAN GO PLAY MARBLES WITH YOURSELF - I 277
CROSSWORD PUZZLE
HORIZONTAL * 1 Pictured nut. 5It is the fruit of the —. 8It has 8 w——— cup. : 13 Donated. 14 Ringworm. 16 On the lee. 17 Monkeys. 18 Stranger. 19 To relate. 20 X. 21 Formed words with letters. 23 Every. 24 Told an 41 Fuel. untruth. 44 Doctor. 25 Long-necked 45 To finish. bird. 47 To press.. 27 Lock of hair. 49 Growing out. 30 Was dejected. 54 Slipped. 33 Roof edge. 55 Mud. 34 To spill. 56 Water wheel. 35 Renovates. 57 To relieve. 37 Compound 58 Some species ether. of this nut 39 To observe. are 40 Note in scale. 59 Its cup
Answer to Previous Puzzle
contains. em,
VERTICAL 1 Glass marbles. 2 Sleeveless 42 Dry. cloak. 3 Chamber for baking. 4 Thing. 5 Lubricated. 6 Source of indigo. 7 Turns over.
9 Grain. 10 Olive shrub, 11 Ravine. 12 Screamed, 14 Insulated. 15 Afresh. 21 Supplied with sinews, 22 Stove valves 24 Washes. 26 Lasso knot. 28 Golf device 29.Hastened. 31 To deposits 32 Before. 35 System of rule. 86 Calm. 38 To blush.
43 Fern seeds. 45 Enthusiasm 46 Unless. 48 The tip. 50 Negative. 51 Circle part. 52 Note in scalg 53 To devour. - 54 Measure.
TOUCH TO ' YOUR DESSERTS
WHIPPING CREAM
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