Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 May 1937 — Page 16

by MARION WHITE ~~ ©19 NEA SERVICE.INC

CAST OF CHARACSERS JOAN BARRETT, heroihe, secretary to John Hendry. { JOHN HENDRY, | mining investment head. BOB ANDREWS, Hendry’s junior partner and Joan’s fiance. SYBIL. HENDRY, fociaiite, John Hendry’s niece and Joan’s rival in love. PHILIP HENDRY, Sybil's brother. DOROTHY STARKE, Joan's girlhood friend. | CHARLES NORTON, California mining promoter. | Yesterday: Joan is left alone in the - office with Charles Norton, who recognizes her as having once lived in California. Trembling, Joan denies this.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN—Continued

ORTON looked up in surprise. “Young Andrews, eh? Well, that does complicate matters. John

BSENTLY she traced the outline of the lace in the nightgown she heid in her lap. “Father and this Mr. Jordan,” she went on, “were such close friends. He was as devoted to him as I am \to Mr. Hendry. Or rather, as Bob to Mr. Hendry. Mr. Jordan, as his employer, gave him unlimited opportunity. He trusted him with every dollar that passed through the company, and father would have died himself before betraying his confidence. He could never have done—what they said—" “He could never have quarreled with him?” Joan shook her head. “I don’t think he ever did. But if there was some little disagreement—I remember someone testified to that— | they would not have argued in bad i feeling. Bob and Mr. Hendry often

Hendry would never have me cul- disagree over certain matters—they ting in on Andrews’ territory . . | ee over this matter of buying

the lucky devil!”

the Bella Terra mine from Mr. Nor-

He leaned closer, and once again | ton—but there is’ no bitterness in his dark eyes looked into her very | the argument. Perhaps dad and Mr.

soul. “You know you | are quite the | loveliest girl?” he murmured. “Your | face has haunted me, ever since I | met you.” { Joan squirmed. | | “There’s something about you that reminds me of someone . . .” Nor-| ton persisted. “Someone I knew . .. | did you ever live in California?” | “No!” Joan almost shouted the | denial, drawing away from. his | .nearness. Quickly,|] however, she gathered her wits. | “That is,” she |

Jordan argued that morning—but that couldn't prove he—he—" “Shot him?” 2 Tears sprung into Joan's eyes. “Shot him,” she whispered, “in—the back—Oh, Dorothy, can't you believe my father never did that? Can't anybody believe it?” Joan jumped to her feet, crying a little hysterically. There were tears in Dorothy's eves, too, as she got up and put her arms about Joan's shoulders. “I do believe it, Joan, dear. I can't

to impress your certainty upon others——" “My mother bélieved in him that

“Of course. But your mother was probably so terrified, so bewildered at the time, that her strength deserted her.” Joan nodded. I remember. circumstance.” “How?” “It was a matter of theft—as well as murder. Whoever killed Mr. Jordan did it. for several thousand dollars which happened to be passing through the office that day. My father was supposed to be the only one who knew of the money. And my. mother had just undergone a critical operation. Father owed more than a thousand dollars to the doctors and to the hospital.”

“Mother was ill. That was another

” ” ” OROTHY'S eyes were bright as

she listened. “It sounds,” she said reflectively, “as if an ugly Fate |

had pieced the whole case together.” | “It was exactly that,” Joan agreed listlessly. “Everything worked together that way—as if it was my father’s fate, and he couldn’t escape it. I guess you can’t fight Fate.” “Fiddlesticks!” Dorothy snorted. “You .can fight anything.” After a‘moment, she asked: “With whose gun was the man shot?” “With his own gun—and father’s fingerprints were on it.” “Did he explain how they got

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES OUT OUR WAY

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“Of course. The gun was always : | in Mr. Jordan's desk, in the top > | drawer. For some peculiar reason, | . : Svan they slipped the sales reports un- 2 der it. Every morning, father would pick it up and slip the pre-

amended, less violently, “not since | tell you why I do, but I believe in Tynsxa bay gs om on Dae | your father just as I believe in you. mento, ; ly en T, 'We can't make a jury believe, but fornia When 1 was gun on Jnfant, |if we know ourselves, don’t you supDeters nhs 9yer, | pose between us, we could find out Ya fas | something 2” Norton smiled. ‘But 5 8

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from California—kept

: wouldn’t have me at the] trial, and

: would shudder with hatred, too.”

I knew it. Sunshine ather? I

come from Californja! You can always tell a girl. . . . Who was yo might have known hima I lived in | Sacramento for years ...” *_ Joan’s nerves were quivering. She | (couldn’t fool this man. His eyes | saw too much. Eyen now they were probing, seeking, wondering what caused her hesitation. Was he tormenting her, | knowing full well who her father was? With all the strength of will she possessed, she forced herself to! smile, and to answer lightly: “I imagine my father stayed in Sacramento just long enough for me to join his family. .. . I really come from a long line of gypsies. California was just one more stop-ping-off place.” " ” “ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN VENTUALLY, Joan met Dorothy for lunch, though it was long after 1 o'clock, and Dorothy had been waiting -half an hour. -- “I had the most awful time getting here!” she cried breathlessly. “That Norton man—Mr. Hendry’s friend me, pretending he had some work... . He is the most horrible person!” “Why didn’t you walk out him?” : “I did, finally. However,” ‘she reported - cheerfully, “I have the afternoon off. Mr. Hendry told me to go shopping.” ‘ Dorothy smiled. “Is he an understanding man!”’ | Joan did not think of Norton again that afternoon; they were | both too absorbed in the joy of buying in sheer extravagance. With three hundred dollars to spend—one hundred on lingerie alone, if she wanted to—Joan felt| as if she] owned the world.

#” n 2

T was not until late that night, after Joan had tried on the last silky, slithering mnightie, that Dorothy remarked, wickedly: ' “You are tne prettiest thing, Joan . .h I don't wonder that old Norton tried to make up to you—Look out! ‘You've dropped that lovely nightie on [the floor.” he looked up quickly, wondering what had startled Joan so. “What's the matter?” she asked her lightly. Joan rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I'm tired, I guess. And I'd forgotten all about Norton.” Dorothy laughed. “Surely you're not afraid of him, are [you?” “I.think I am. . . .} “You goose! With Bob and Mr. Hendry in the same office?” “It's not that. He's a link—to California. I can’t be sure whether he knows or not.” “Fiddlesticks!” Dorothy exclaimed lightly. “Don’t worry about it.” But her eyes clouded, and for a moment she sat on the bed quietly turning the matter over in her| mind. » 2 | “ JOAN,” she said finally, “do you mind if I ask you about it?” Joan looked up in mild surprise. “About my father, you mean?” “Yes.” “I don't mind, Dorothy. is it?” “Was he guilty?” She asked it timidly, knowing how painful the question might be. Joan, however, did not flinch. Her voice, when she replied, was sad, -but still quiet. She had answered the question so many times, in her own heart as well as to other people. “He never killed a man, Dorothy,” she said simply. “I know it means nothing for me to say that. He said it so joften—and my mother said it. But Tre wa believed them. I know

What

that lhe was innocent, just as you would have known it of your father, just as I know now that Bob could never do anything like that.” “Didn’t you ever want to do anything about it—to prove his innocence?” Joan shrugged hopelessly. “What good would that do now? Father's gone; | mother’s . gone. Nothing would bring them back.” “You might save your own peace of mind.” » ® un OAN sat on the tiny boudoir chair staring at the pattern in the rug. “It’s too late, now,” she argued. “Everything was done that could have been done. My grandfather was a man of good standing and moderate wealth; he spent every penny he had—for lawyers, detectives, new trials. It did no good. Grandfather died, from-the worry, I guess, before—before father did.” “The evidence was. all ‘circumstantial, of course?” Joan nodded. “Diabolically so. I guess even the jury couldn't believe otherwise. The murder; was so— so cold-blooded. I remember reading about it in the papers. Dad

mother tried to keep the newspapers from me. But I saw them, of course. And when I read the awful accusations against father, I would forget

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HEY sat down on the bed together. Hopelessly, Joan shook her head. “How could we, Dorothy?’ she cried despairingly. “How could we do it, without money, now, when nobody else could—10 years ago?” Dorothy sighed. “I don't know. Somehow it just seems to me that if you believe in someone so {ruly —so0 positively—you' must be able

vious day’s report under it. His fingerprints were all over it. So were Mr. Jordan’s. But there were no others.” “Naturally. A good criminal knows better than to -leave fingerprints. Anybody who reads murder mysteries could tell ycu that. Didn’t your father have an alibi? That's part of every mystery, too.”

(To Be Continued)

Daily Short Story

GLORIA'S ARTISTOCRAT—By Marcia Bellows

O the old wheeze that nothing is certain but death and taxes, Gloria (once Gertie) Mooney, added a third item—Sandy Quinn. Every morning, when, with Madam’s wrap over her arm, she crossed the. lobby of St. Augustine's most exclusive hotel, she knew Sandy would be on duty at the cigar counter, eagerly watching for her. She had explained to him again and again that there wasn’t any use. Fate, she said, had destined her for an aristocratic marriage. Instinct told her so, and her horoscope backed her up. And why not? When one is 20, with sleek black hair and a creamy complexion, anything is possible. But Sandy

| wouldn't listen.

She regretted that Sandy was not aristocratic. The boy certainly had a way with him. The hard strength of his arms about her did things to her. At such times, it took a lot of concentrating to remember her high destiny. | ©” % 7 oO" the memorable morning when the moon was in Gemini—a swell break for natives of Capricorn —Giloria’s knees ' shook as she stepped out of the elevator. Now was the time. “It” might happen any minute! In the meanwhile, there was no harm in stopping, as usual, at Sandy’s counter. His face lighted up. -“Hi, baby! I looked “for you at the Help Dance last night.” “Thanks, Sandy. Fine chance I had to get away! While the boys in there were playing the Continental, I was playing a vibrator up and down Mrs. Van Alstyne’s back.” Sandy leaned closer. “Aw, honey, you wouldn’t be handcuffed to that old battle-ax if you'd only change your mind about us. Just 249 more smackers, and I'll own a third intérest in this concession, and we-—" “Now, Sandy, why do we have to go all over that again?” He sulked. “Yeah, I know. I'm not your speed. You're after class— and I guess you'll get it, too! There's a smooth Chicago bird checked in here yesterday who's been driving me nuts for the low-down on you.

|He even dropped in at the dance

last night, looking for you.” Cold prickles played tag down ‘That distinguished stranger yesterday. . . , He had arrived just as she was following Madam into the carriage. From the corner of her eye, she had seen him staring after her as they drove off. Later, she had looked him up in the

| register. “Clarence Rutherford, Chi-

cago, II.” name! “Was he tall, dark, and sort of suave?” she now asked eagerly. “Yeah. I got a good mind to take a poke. ... Say! Hold cverything! He's heading this way right now! Of all the cast-iron crust—"

Such an' aristocratic

” ” ”

N a daze, Gloria heard Sandy's muttered introduction. She felt faint as ‘Mr. Rutherford held onto her hand and squoke softly. “I've been looking forward to this, Miss Mooney. You and I have things to say to each other. Can't we get off somewhere by ourselves?” Of course, Mrs. Van Alstyne had to come barging along just at that minute with her icy, “Gloria! The carriage is waiting!” Thus peremptorily summoned, Gloria turned, then threw a forlorn glance over her shoulder as she followed ‘her mistress’ stiff back out of the hotel. However, ‘as they drove sedately around the old town, Gloria’s spirits gradually revived. Her tactics, she told herself, had been right. Long ago, she had figured out that the way to land-an aristocratic husband was to stick around aristocrats. That’s why she had kept on working for this female Simon Legree, for they didn’t come any more aristocratic than Mrs. Van Alstyne. She still wore a pocket in her alpaca petticoat, and had cut her best friend dead for indorsing SlumberSweet mattresses. There would, Gloria assured herself, be other opportunities to make friends with .this fascinating Mr. Rutherford. The stars would see to it—to say nothing of Clarence Rutherford himself. The way he

for a moment who he was, and I

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had forced that introduction had

shown that he was no slouch. He'd find a way! 2 n 2 E might have if it had not rained on the way back to the hotel, bringing on one of Mrs. Van Alstyne’s rheumatic attacks. For three days, Gloria was chained vo the old tyrant’s bedside, night and day. Mr, Rutherford sent her half a dozen notes, pleading for dates, but she had to/refuse. He even phoned. She had to pretend it was a mistake and hang up quickly. Then came the morning of the fourth day, and with it a note that stiffened her to action! Leaving at midnight. Cannot go Without seeing you. Have a heart! Will be in the sunroom tonight at 10. C. R. At 9:55 that evening Gloria softly closed the door to Mrs. Van Alstyne’s suite, and hurried down the hall. The gilded mirror in the eievator showed her an exciting Gloria in black and vivid green. Perhaps Madam’s cold feet had received their last hot-water bottle from her hands! She hoped the old girl wouldn't wake before morning, but if she did—well, drat the job! She probably wouldn't be neéding it much longer, anyhow. : As she rustled by Sandy’s counter, he leaned over and grabbed her arm. “What's the rush, honey? Forgetting your old pal? Aw, give a guy a break, Gloria. Remember—only 249 more berries—.” “Sandy, please! I'm in a hurry!” she said sharply. She felt a bit guilty as she moved on, with the vision of his hurt face lingering before her eyes but, after all, a girl owed it to herself to climb as high as she could. Besides, it was her fate. ” os 2 R. RUTHERFORD, slim and artistic in evening clothes, stepped out of the shadows of the deserted sunroom. He took her hand, and gently drew her down onto a settee beside him. “Dear lady, you look charming! I wish I had the time to enjoy this evening thoroughly. Forgive me if I go right to the point.” He was slipping his hand into his inside pocket. Gloria's heart pounded. Then, every nerve tensed as she saw what was in his hand. A check book! Well! If he thought he could insult her ‘just because she worked for a living— Before her startled eyes, he unfolded a sheet of paper. He began to read: : “Gloria Mooney, personal maid to Mrs. Horace Van Alstyne .of the old Knickerbocker family, says, ‘I always wash Madam’s dainty underthings in SUPERLATIVE SOAP SUDS.” He handed the paper to her. “Of course, he said smoothly, “we are prepared to pay well for your indorsement. Two hundred dollars if you sign on the dotted line.” “Make it $249!” she said briskly, and reached for the fountain pen he was holding out to her. THE END

(Copyright, 1937, United Feature Syndicate, Inc.)

The characters in this story are fictitious. eo e——————————————————

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. Q—How old is the motion picture actor, Charley Chase?

A—He was born Oct. 20, 1893. Q.—Are employees of the Postoffice . exempt from Federal income taxes? A—No. Q—When was the first Lincoln 1ead penny minted? : A—1909.

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A—631,207,

~ NC Lr?” HAIN'T IT NICE AN" = PEACEFUL A-SETTIN H'YAR

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