Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 January 1937 — Page 28

Ring wiffionf a country

BEGIN HERE TODAY Surrendering the throne of Northumbra for the love of Ardath Richmond, Canadian-born actress, King Paul I becomes private citizen Paul Ferrone, buys ‘a charming villa on the Bay St. Francis and believes he is a free man at last. But quickly he finds he is not free after all. For the eyes of the world continue to pry in on him; there is neo stimulation in the ¥acuous Countess di Marco, Reggie Van Twyne and the gay resort erowd; life lacks a purpose. . So Paul takes the advice of his old tutor, Dr. Sonders, tours Europe.. Next he considers buying a ranch in Canada. After that he buys a sailing ship. But restlessness ever hangs over him. Eventually Ardath begins to fear Paul is bored with her. One day Paul ridicules her social set. : As the weeks roll on, lazy, purposeless weeks, Paul and Ardath quarrel, Paul takes to the refuge of his boat more and more. Then one day he thinks he has the solution—they shonld have a child. Eagerly Paul tells Ardath. “Paul, are you insane?” she cries. “Why —it might kill me.” As he turns away, badly shaken, Paul feels for the first time that surrendering his throne was a terrible mistake. 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.

x CHAPTER NINE

Al expensive orchestra from Paris played the song hit of the year, “I'd Give Up My Throne for You.” Japanese lanterns festooned the wide grounds of the villa San Margarete. Now and then a sleek motor car would glide in through the outer gates to deposit: some latecomers. And Paul and Ardath stood side by side on the terrace below the balcony, greeting their guests. It seemed to Paul as if the entire population of the villas along the shore of Bay St. Francis must be there. All the friends and acquaintances of whom he had seen so much during the past year had passed down the receiving line; in addition there were people he had never seen before, friends of his friends and acquaintances of his acquaintances. Ardath and the Countess di Marco had made up the list of guests; ‘it looked, he decided gloomily, as if they had simply taken the postman’s summer directory and copied off the names verbatim. The last guest had finally arrived and been greeted. Reggie Van Twyne detached himself from. a group at the improvised bar and swuntered over to the host and hostess. ’ “What you need’s a master of ceremonies,” he said. “Want me to act for you? Il get the party rollin’. He turned away and mounted to the temporary platform where the - orchestra was holding forth. He whispered to the director, and the drummer beat a long roll to command attention. The guests clustered about the dance floor that had been laid on the lawn and looked up, expectant. : - “Friends, Romans and countrymen, including the Scandinavian,” said Reggie, swaying a trifle. “We are here tonight to celebrate a 'spicious occasion. This is a great anniversary and we've got to treat it right. “Exactly one year ago tonight our host”—he bowed and gestured freely ‘toward Paul, who stood near the orchestra with Ardath’s arm linked in his—“our host stepped down from his lofty pinnacle and became one of the boys. He: threw away his stuffed shirt and put vine leaves in his hair. He quit being King of Northumbra in order to become what nature meant him to be—the prince of good fellows. Ladies, gentlemen and camp followers, I | give you our host—his royal highness, Paul, king of the pleasure coast—an’ our hostess, the lady his wife, her royal highness, Ardath, the queen of love an’ beauty!” ” = "

E raised both arms and a shrill cheer, mingled with gay shouts of laughter, went up from the lawn. Reggie patted the orchestra leader cn the back and climbed down. “Did I give you a sendoff?” he asked Paul and Ardath. “People, when I open a party it stays opened.” He looked up at Paul solicitously. “My frien’, what you need is a drink. Come with me an’ get it.” Paul followed him to the bar and obediently took the glass which was promptly placed in his hand. “Didn’t know about the program we got fixed up, did you?” Reggie asked him. “The countess an’ I did it. Ardath told us to go ahead. She gave us carte blanche. An’ mister, when you see it. . . .” He looked triumphantly at his host and jabbed him solemnly in the waistcoat with a forefinger. “Young girls have gone to jail an’ strong men’ve ieft home for less than is going to be done here tonight.” This, Paul concluded two hours later, was no exaggeration. Performers from all the hot spots within a 100-mile radius seemed to have been pressed into service. There were blues singers, torch “singers, and singers whose ditties might have brought blushes to the ears of cash customers at a stag smoker. There were fan dancers, muscle dancers, and just plain dancers whose talents, as far as Paul could see, consisted solely in an extraordinary willingness to perform withcut any clothes at all. A young man at Paul's elbow locked appreciatively at the scene. “So this is an orgy,” he said slowly. “I've always wondered what they did at orgies. Now I know.” Paul turned away and walked outside the circle of ‘light and sound to a secluded spot among the shrubbery that fringed the farther end of the villa. The monotonous jungle beat ofthe orchestra, the burbling wail of its saxophones and its muted trumpets, the laughter and the bursts of applause and the shrill voices, came to him faintly here; he could look away from the lighted lawn, with its color and its movement, and see the dark bay under its canopy of stars. - As he looked, it seemed as if he looked across the shagowing of years, as well as across he water, and saw his own kingdom again, fair under the summer sky, with its bustling cities, its neat and smiling countryside, its great myriads of people weaving the unending pattern of their history.

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‘A ND it seemed that he could see the long procession of his prede-

cessors, the kings who had reigned |

before him, passing in ghostly re1d all of them, it seemed, had

this in common—that they served a greater thing than themselves, ‘sometimes without knowing it, sometimes falteringly and uncertainly, but always instinctively and, in the end, faithfully. They had found their freedom in service, and they stood out now, not so much as individuals but as figures in an unbroken procession, as men who marched in time to the beat of some

transcend themselves. He rubbed his forehead wearily. He had broken that procession, he had stepped out of it—for love, for freedom, for the need to fulfill some obscure responsibility to his own soul. Now he could see that he had

freedom was a queer, mocking thing which a man gained by turning away from it, that love could be insubstantial and shifting, with a light that failed and a glamour that deceived. : And he was conscious of a tremendous homesickness for his own land and his own people; a great desire came to him to leave this silly, drunken revel, board his stout little sailboat, steer north around sullen Cape Roman, and set a course for his homeland—returning, like some mariner-king of old, from a tour of far countries and strange places, to the place that was his. He took a step forward, impulsively, as if to turn desire inpo action. Then he paused; a man and 4 woman, dimly outlined against the lights on the lawn, had strolled near him. They did not see him. They sat down on a bench a dozen paces away—Ardath and Reggie Van Twyne. Reggie, who had seemed quite intoxicated two hours ago, must have grown sober as the evening progressed. His voice, when he spoke, was clear, without the fuzziness that had marked his speech a little earlier. “Ardath, kid,” he was saying, “how long are you going to ‘carry this on, anyhow?” Paul waited, tense, for her answer.

® » 2

“Y COULD pretend that I didn’t understand what you mean, Reggie, but I won't,” she said. Her voice sounded flat and tired. “I won’t even pretend that I'm shocked and insulted. But I can’t give you an answer—not a real one. All I can say is, ‘I don’t know’.” : “Listen,” said Reggie. In the dusk Paul could see him turn to

drum that could summon men to|

made an impossible bargain — that | spot

face her, one arm looped over 1 back of the seat so that his ha rested lightly and familiarly on he shoulder. “Listen, Ardath. Yc were cut out to be my sort of per son, not his. You know that, don’t you?” There was a brief pause. Then Ardath said, “I suppose I do. Yes, I suppose I do. Reggie, that doesn’t speak very well for me, does it?” eT don’t see why not,” said Reg‘gie hotly. “I know—TI've been places 'and done things, I've had my name in the Sunday supplement as a playboy, and all that. But after all —what’s he? Just a runaway. Just somebody that took a run-out powder when he: found himself in a “That isn’t fair, Reggie.” “It is, too. He couldn't stand the gaff as King, so he quit. Now he can’t even stand the gaff here. He's a stick. He thinks he can have his fun without paying for it, and now that he’s beginning to find out he can’t, he ean’t take it. He .mopes. He doesn’t like this gang we travel with. He doesn’t even like you, really.” s E- 2 HE murmured some protest “He doesn’t,” Reggie insisted. | “Of course, he’s got a yen for you. That doesn’t mean anything. You | can have a yen for a person you don’t even like.” : i Ardath remained silent. ! “You and I, now,” Reggie went | on. “We're two of a kind. We may only be a pair of treys, but we're a pair.” “And he’s a king,” said Ardath slowly. There was a long silence. “We're a shabby, shabby pair,” said Ardath at last. “You're right, in a way. I am your kind, not his. His kind is too good for me. He's innocent, Reggie. He's like a child —trusting, and good and sort of 10st. . . “Reggie, I can’t let him down. I'm | all he’s got. He gave up too much for me. As long as he wants me, I've got to be on hand.” “You think so.” Reggie looked out at the dark bay for a full minute. Then he stood up, and ex- | tended a hand to help her to her feet. “Well,” he said, “I'll be around. Sooner or later,.you know, the bottom’ll fall out of all this. You know that as well as I do. When it does, little Reggie’ll be on deck.” They moved away and left Paul alone.

(To Be Continued)

a “

WINGS FOR

LL eyes at the flying field were turned upward. “Is Chris Hutchins crazy?” The senior instructor barked out the words through thin lips. “He’s been flying like that for a couple of weeks. What's the matter with him!” : “Well, you see, sir,” offered a student, “the girl he was going to marry. turned him down. He took it pretty hard.” “Young -fool!” snorted the insstructor. - . “The most promising young flier here, and he has to let If he doesn’t watch out, he’ll break his neck. . .. Good Lord! Look!” The instructor's eyes had widened in sudden horror. Chris’ plane was plunging toward the earth! A moment later, everyone was running toward the wreckage. Everyone, that is, except a girl, who stood petrified. . . . : 8 = ” OLLY had come fo the field because her heart was aching for Chris. "If she could only screw up the courage to tell himywhy she had broken their engagement! No one knew better than she that flying was life to Chris. All summer she had listened to his eager talk. > “See those planes up ‘there, Molly?” he would say, holding tightly to her hand as they sat in Molly's little car at the field. “Back of the controls in every one of those ships, sits a pioneer in aviation. And I am going to be one of them!” Then would follow words that filled Molly with despair. That attitude of indifference had been Molly’s way of -hiding from Chris a fear of flying that would not let her even set foot in a plane. 8 ” z E had built air castles of their life together that left her cold with dread. Then, one evening, Chris had bounded in, wildly excited. “Listen, Molly, here’s great news! We're going on our honeymoon in a plane! You know my brother Joe— the one in Florida. Well, he has ordered a plane here and has asked me to fly it down to him. I've got cur plans all made and, as a little extra honeymoon, we're flying to Cuba and . . .” Molly had heard the rest of Chris’ plans as if in a dream, for she knew she could never make that trip! It was no use to make excuses and get Chris to change those pians, for he was bound to find out, about her weakness sooner or later if she married him. No, the only thing to do was to break the engagement. She had, giving no explanations. Then, she had heard how Chris was taking their broken engagement and what was happening to his flying. She had spent sleepless nights, worrying. At last she had come to the field today with harried, vague thoughts of doing something. » . ”n ” 2

OLLY stood frozen to the spot, gazing in agony toward the crowd that had surrounded Chris’ wrecked plane. She had done this to him! She had killed him! Then—she saw Chris emerge from the crowd, supported by two men. He was alive—alive! Trembling, Molly escaped to her car and drove back to the city. The next day, Ted Boynton, another student, brought her news of Chris. Miraculously, he had not been hurt, but he was completely unnerved. Still later, he brought the news that Chris had not flown since the accident, though he haunted the flying field with a look in his seyes that the boys didn’t like, : ” n E HE next afternoon, Molly drove

to the flying field. When she found Chris, lie was leaning morose-

By Mina Morrison Wilson Daily Short Story

THE BRAVE

ly against a plane. He started when he saw her. : “Oh, I'm glad I found you: here, Chris!” Molly spoke breathlessly, quickly. must reach him. . me home ...” Ten minutes later, they were in a plane, Chris having received special permission to make the trip. Molly felt her courage ebbing. | Swiftly, they taxied across the field. Then, almost imperceptibly, they rose. Molly kept her mind blank and her eyes on Chris’ face. She saw

. . Can you fly

up, they climbed. Molly's heart began to pound. Up and up! Molly clenched her fists. A nightmare sensation enveloped her. She could not go on—she must tell Chris to turn back! But no words came from her dry lips... Chris turned cold when Molly's head fell heavily against his shoulder. He stared at her limp form. Panic seized him. “Molly! Molly!” Quickly, he started the plane downward. He must get Molly to a doctor! Suddenly, roofs rushed up at the plane. There! he could make that small, open space. . . The boys! should have seen that landing!

” ” ” Too, he lifted Molly out of the cockpit. She opened her eyes, looked wonderingly at him, at the plane, then down at the earth, “Oh, were down, were down!” She clung to Chris, shuddering with | memories of the flight.

In a moment, she was pouring out the whole story.

it light up, saw his head lift. Up, |

“And you made up that story this—for me?” Chris’ voice was awed. He drew Molly into his arms. “You have done a braver thing today, Molly, than the girls who fly, for they have no fear. I admire the girl aviators, but I love you. . . .”

His arms tightened about her. : “I'll go tomorrow for the final fitting of my wedding dress,” she whispered. : . _THE END

1937, by _ United Feature

(Copyright, , Syndicate, Inc.)

The characters in this story are fictitious.

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_ THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

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