Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 April 1937 — Page 20

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By Nard Jones

BEGIN HERE TODAY Failing, with the help of Gerry Neal, to locate her companion, Betty Haynes, abducted by Jack. Speddon, Martha Brittain starts north from San Francisco up the west coast. And suddenly she decides, even though she loves Neal, that he is implicated in Betty's disapPearance. So she has him arrested. Arriving in Seattle, still in search of Betty, Martha is abducted by Speddon, who proves to be an agent for Johnny Ciznik, underworld character. Eventually Martha finds herself aboard Ciznik’s ship. Then it is that she learns she and Betty have been the innocent victims of a gigantic dope ring, whose leaders wanted to try out a new trailer as a narcotic conveyor and used the girls to make the test. Ciznik offers to take Martha into the ring, threatening death if she refuses. But Martha is adamant. Angered at this defiance, Ciznik is about to punish her when a terrific detonation rocks the ship. In the excitement, Martha escapes from Ciznik’s cabin and finds Betty. They learn that the coast guard is chasing Ciznik’s ship. For a moment they think they are to be rescued and then Speddon reappears, locks them up once more in Ciznik’s cabin, under guard of the Oriental. He tells them if the coast guard catches up, it means death. A second crash rocks the boat and in that second Ciznik enters the cabin, aims a revolver at the girls. The sound of a shot rings hideously against the steel plates.

NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Moe screamed, opened her eyes again. But it was not Ciznik who had fired. His revolver clattered to the floor, and he stood there clutching his right wrist and rocking with the sudden pain. Suddenly the room was filled with men, all struggling around Ciznik and Ling. A young Coast Guard officer shoved through the mob. “Take them aboard,” he ordered, and came toward the two women. “Are you all right?” “Y-yes,” said Martha weakly. “I'm Lieutenant Howison. We didn't know you girls were aboard here or we wouldn't have got so rough out there.” Quickly he unloosened the rope with which Ling had bound them. “We'll take care of you. There's a doctor aboard.” Howison’s men made fast work of sending Ciznik and the Oriental along the passageway. With the officer between them, Martha and Betty followed, both glad for his firm assistance. On deck the confusion had subsided. Ciznik’s men were meekly transferring to the coast guard. An officer and crew were making ready to take over the smuggling ship. Suddenly Martha stopped dead still, her face growing paler than before. “What's wrong?” Howison asked. She rubbed a trembling- hand over her damp forehead. ‘“N-n-nothing. I'm all right now.” | She had seen Gerry Neal, unmistakably, aboard the coast guard cutter! His presence among Ciznik's men was not what had struck her motionless. But rather it was the hurting thought that not once had he tried to help her, even make her more .comfortable. Not once had he owned the courage to face her at last, and admit the truth. Suddenly she felt herself leaning too heavily against the young officer. “I—I think I'm going to faint... . > ” "

“PEELING better now, Mart?” It was Betty, sitting on [the edge of her berth. Martha saw the porthole above her and sprang from the pillow. “Betty! Betty, we're not back on that—” “No. . .’. Betty pushed her ‘ gently back. “We're on Uncle Sam’s ship this time, heading for Seattle. And friend Ciznik and his playhoys are in the brig, or so Lieut. Howison says.” Betty grinned infectiously. “He's nice, isn't he?” “I—I was too scared to notice[” “Well,” Betty told her, “you should have stayed on your feet and you'd have had time to notice!” ‘How long have I been here?” “We've been under way an hour. The doctor says you're okay. You came to once, and he gave you a sedative. While you've been snoozing I've been having dinner in the officers’ quarters. Hungry?” “Sort of.” | “The cook's keeping something for you. I—” She was interrupted by a polite krock on the door. It was Lieut. Howison. “How are you by this time?” He smiled pleasantly, set his neat officer's cap on the table. “Much better,” Martha told him. “Sorry to go out on you like that.” “No trouble at all,” Howison said. “I was telling Miss Haynes at dinner that it's all been a pleasure. You know, the Coast Guard service gets pretty monotonous at times. It’s not every day we can round up a gang like this—and rescue beautiful young ladies in the bargain!” He was directing his words at Martha, but the latter noticed his special glance at Betty. “You should get him to tell you what we were up against,” Betty suggested. “Probably Miss Brittain doesn’t want to hear about it right now.” “I do, though,” Martha assured him.

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” WW - . «. . the fact is that you girls found yourselves right in the wind-up of a case the T-men have been working on a long time.” : “T-men?” “Yes. Treasury Department men— customs agents. We were just helping them out on this little deal. Ciznik has had a syndicate for the past 10 or 11 years, I'm told. It stretched all up and down the coast, and back into Chicago and Detroit. He had the idea to really go in for transporting quantities of dope— with trailer caravans. He figured they would not be regarded with suspicion, and they wouldn't be running afoul of the truck legislation and license laws in all the various states. Also, he figured they'd be big enough to carry other stuff, too. Unstamped liquor. Maybe bring aliens into the industrial centers. Oh, he was going to go in for it on a big scale.” “That was the trouble,” Betty mentioned. “He got too darned big.” “That's right. You see, what he didn’t realize when he started all this new idea was that one of the T-men had been working a long time right in his syndicate. His name was Guy Weeks, and he'd even taken a Chinese blood oath with some of Ciznik’s Chinese gang, so he could get more information.”

” ” ” «yPUT if this T-man knew all about Ciznik why didn’t they get him long ago?”

, Howison shrugged. “If they'd shot

able to clean up the whole mess. This was big thing, you know. There were more than 200 customs men all over the country closing in on it, and several score border patrol agents were transferred to the coast to help trap the opium smuggling rings that Ciznik had built up. Then the coast guard came into the picture. This boat was sent around from the east coast to replace a slower cutter. We didn’t even know why ourselves until now. nono»

# OU should see the opium Ciznik had aboard!” Betty exclaimed. Martha nodded: “I did see some of it. Why is it put into cans filled with flour?” “That's to keep it dry,” Howison told her. “You see, the opium smuggling liners from the Orient

too soon they wouldn't have been;

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toss the stuff overboard in sacks tied with cork floats. of the sack is a flashlight sealed in a bottle. Then the faster, smaller boats, like. Ciznik’s come along the steamer lanes and pick the stuff up. They transfer it to shore where Ciznik planned to transport it all over the country.” Martha looked at Betty. “If ever we get to the old home town again we'll never leave, will we?” “Don’t say that,” Howison went on quickly. “Miss Haynes has promised to come to Seattle again next summer, after I've done Alaska duty . . . Anyhow, you can’t leave the coast right away... You may have to stay to give some evidence— and youre both going to have dinner with me ashore.” Martha smiled. “Isn't three a crowd?”

(To Be Concluded)

Daily Sh

GOOD TURN—-By Saul D. Cohen

ort Story

Betty Lou was

HIS is my third year with the Hornets and we were training down South when this rookie named Buckley Hayden showed up. The tag on him says he's a . shortstop and for Spike—that’s our manager— to look him over. Spike grins, because he knows he’s got one of the sweetest shortstops in the game, but he gives the kid a chance, anyway. Buckley's a quiet sort of guy, with a -slow smile and the hay still in his ears. I kinda took to him right away. ‘But the first time he shuffles up to the plate to take a couple of practice swings at the ball, I can’t look, and neither can Spike—that kid has got one of the most unorthodox stances you ever saw! It looks as though he couldn't hit the ball outa the infield, the way he stands. The pitcher winds, up real easy and just tosses the ball over the plate—Well, that rookie swings his bat around. as nonchalant as you please and whales the ball clear out over the centerfield wall! Spike sits up, and so do the rest of us, but that hit might have been a fluke, so Spike orders the pitcher to put everything on the next throw. He winds up and lets go a fast one —the kind even the Babe had trouble with—and the ball sails out over the centerfield wall again! “Joe,” Spike says to me, “the kid's got. something!” I nod my head dumbly. I'm watching Buckley paste a few more. Then Spike says, “But he's still a rookie, Joe, and got lots to learn. Do me a favor an’ keep an eye on him.” Well, T ain’t never played nursemaid to nobody before, but I like the kid and I promise Spike I'll do it. So me and Buckley room together and we get along great.

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“YTS sure swell of you, Joe,’ he says to me one day, “to take such an interest in me and give me so -many pointers. Betty Lou will be glad.” I blink twice. “Betty Lou—who's that?” He blushed. says. “Well, that’s nice,” I say. glad to hear you got a girl.” The kid grins and gets redder. “Joe,” he says, “do you think I'll be a star this year? Because we want to get married as soon as I am a star.” I don’t want to discourage him, so I say, “Who knows?” We break camp and hit the trail north, playin’ exhibition games on the way. Buckley's doi’ a lot of pinch-hittin’, but there ain’t much chance of him playin’ regular, because our shortstop is on his toes. Besides, Buckley needs more experience. Then, we hit a tank town, an’ it turns out to be Buckley's home. ‘Joe,” he tells me, real happy, “I wrote Betty Lou all about you. And youre coming out to her house tonight for supper. And don't say no. I try to edge out of it, but it’s no go. Anyway, I'm curious to see this dame, and a home-cooked meal always makes my mouth water. Well, Betty Lou's a honey all right, a blond with a big blue eyes. An’ she looks at me like I'm an angel or something. We eat an’ then, pretty soon, her an’ Buckley disappear, an’ I stick around and tell the folks what a great star he is. . The next day, I ask Spike, as a special favor, to let the kid play the whole game at shortstop, because Betty Lou is comin’ out to watch. It’s only an exhibition game, so Spike says okay and we romp all over the opposing team.

“She's my girl,” he

“I'm

" #

INALLY, the regular season opens, and we start off with a bang. However, as the weeks pass, the kid don’t play none, except to pinch hit’ now and then, because our regular shortstop is still hoppig.’ | around and can swing a mean bat himself.

Then, one night, the kid acts aw- ® > : :

there in a box

rul depressed. I figure he's feelin bad because he don't play. “Don/t worry about it, kid,” 1 say, to cheer him up. “You'll be breakin’ into the game pretty soon.” He don’t look around but says, “It's not that, Joe. It's Betty Lou—" “What's the matter,” I ask. ain't sick, is she?” He turns around, and shakes his head. “No, but she's comin’ here Tuesday with some friends.” I don't get it. “Well, that oughta make you feel pretty good. the sour pan?” “Because she’s comin’ to watch me play!” he blurts out. “I been writin’ her I—I play regular. I] hated to tell her I ride the bench ! all the time.” | That fazes me. The kid is in a | tough spot all right, and I feel sorry | for him. Somethin’ oughta be done. | I say to myself. | “Listen, kid,” I say, “maybe I] can fix it with pike to let you play | the day she’s here. I ain't promisin’ nothin’, though.” You should have seen the happy look on his face. “Gosh, Joe! Could—could you do that for me?” - Well, I'm in for it all right. Of course: I can't ask Spike no such thing, because we're playin’ the champs on Tuesday. But then, I get a bright idea. . . .

“She

8 " 2

T= stands are packed on Tuesday, and I tell the kid he'll get into the game. Betty Lou is there in a box, and she gives me a big smile and thanks me for all I done for Buckley. The first inning, nothin’ happens. But when we come off the field in the second, our shortstop complains he’s got a charley horse. That's the gag, see? Our shortstop knows it’s for a good cause. _ So Spike can’t do nothin’ but send in. the kid—and a prayer. But he don’t need the prayer. Buckley plays a whale of a game! We beat the champs, and everybody's happy. Especially me, because the kid showed he had the stuff and I was real glad I got him the chance to show it. But that was a month ago. I ain't so glad now, and I got plenty of time to think about that big soft heart of mine which is so willing to help out young kids in love—because I'm riding the bench. I ain’t blamin’ the kid none. It wasn't his fault. But why did he have to be a shortstop— same as me?

THE END

1937. by United Feature

(Copyright. Syndicate. Inc.)

The characters in this story are fictitious ———————— tar a————

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