Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 18 May 1937 — Page 22

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES i UT OUR WAY

TUESDAY, MAY 18, 1037 FLAPPER FANNY By Sylvia

PAGE 22

AFRAID 0 [ave

by MARION WHITE ©1557 Nea spice.

By Williams

CAST OF CHARACTERS JOAN BARRETT, heroine, secretary to John Hendry. JOHN HENDRY, mining investment head. i BOB ANDREWS, Hendry’s junior partner and Joan's fiance. . SYBIL HENDRY, sccialite, 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—Philip stumbled onto the complete story of the Barrett hanging 10 years ago in San Francisco and jubilantly called Sybil.

. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR YBIL lay in the rose and silver boudoir, fathoms deep in a dream of contentment. A shaft of starlight from the open window fell across her pillow, and now that the cold, dark eyes were closed in. slumber, it reflected a picture of alluring beauty. Her lips were curved in a happy smile, and occasionally her breathing became a soft sigh, gentle as the first breath of spring. Perhaps she dreamed of Bob, undisturbed by golden-haired stenographers with questionable pasts. Of a stately and magnificent wedding, unmarred by the empty yearning of five long years. Of a country estate, elaborate and palatial, unrivalled by any other dwelling in the entire country. . .. The telephone on her bedside table jangled, and she stirred restlessly. Within the second, she was asleep again and this time its call was more insistent. Sybil opened her eyes sleepily. - A third time it rang, and she sat up quickly. She looked at the tiny clock alongside of her. Two o'clock. 2 ” 2 HO could be calling at 2 o'clock in the morning? She picked up the phone, answered it impatiently. : “Long distance calling,” she heard the voice of the operator. “San Francisco calling. One moment, please.” San Francisco! That would be Philip. But what in the world would he

i him gently and kindly, so as not to

arouse too much bitterness. That would never do. Bob must not feel that, because one woman had betrayed him, they were all fashioned from the same mold. Uncle John could make him realize that this had been a wild infatuation— very, very unfortunate, but a little indiscreet, nevertheless.

2 " 8

ES, Uncle John would be the one to tell him. - She would speak to him the first thing in the morning, before he left for the office. Suddenly she remembered what Bob had told her that evening about her uncle. Tonight he was alone in that little house with 40 thousand dollars! And Abraham might not be home until morning, ... She got out of bed quickly. She would go over to see Uncle John immediately. She would tell him that she .had been unable to sleep worrying about him alone in the house with all that money. And then, very carefully, pretending the utmost reluctance, she would tell him of Joan Barrett. . . . Hastily she dressed. She would run over the tew blocks to Uncle John's. It was too late to get out the car. Besides, she hated the struggle of opening garage doors and starting up a cold motor. And if she called Jennings at this hour, he would take an eternity to dress himself. £3 u 8 ITHIN 10 minutes she was out of the house. Eagerly she turned her steps in the direction of her uncle's house, with as wild a song in her heart as Joan had known when she hurried along these streets a few hours previously. The same bright stars looked down on Sybil; the community rested in the same hushed quiet. She saw the same light burning in her uncle’s living room, and it disturbed her. It indicated that her uncle was still up, and if that were the case, he would not be alone. Mr. Norton would be with

him, and over their liquors they would have reached a mellow state of good fellowship by this time. She did not want to.see Mr. Nor--ton tonight. ‘And she did not want her uncle to be too entirely cons sumed with the spirit of good fellowship: In such gentle mood, he might even see fit to condone a murder. Or a murderer's daughter. ” ”n 3

EVERTHELESS, she did not N turn back. She had come this far. And it would flatter Uncle John to know that she had been sufficiently concerned over his wellbeing to get up out of her bed. Coming up the steps, she noticed that the front door was ajar. It was almost always unlatched, but it was strange to see it ajar. Strange, too, she heard no voices. Perhaps Mr. Norton had gone back to town, after all. She crossed the hallway to the living room. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. ; Uncle John sat there, gazing at her from his lifeless eyes, even as he had gazed at Joan two hours earlier. But now his figure was more slumped in the chair, and the cold gray pallor of death was upon his face. , Sybil’s scream filled the house and echoed outside upon the street. Again and again she screamed, as the horror of the sight before her eyes chilled her soul. But she made no move toward him; rather she backed slowly toward the door, fearful of being left alone in this house of death. And as she reached the door, her left foot caught in something upon the floor and she looked down in: terror. It was a black kid glove, a woman's black kid glove. Quickly she bent to pick it up. And as she looked at it, her eyes widened with sudden comprehension and understanding. She remembered picking up that same glove once before that evening— a plain black kid glove, trimmed with petit-point embroidery. In her own house she had picked it up and handed it to Joan Barrett!

(To Be. Continued)

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be calling her far at such an unearthly hour? Two o'clock. In San Francisco, however, she realized that it was much earlier. Three hours earlier. Even so, what could Philip have discovered so shortly after his arrival? :

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Daily Short Story

ADVICE TO SALLY—By Frederic A. Kummer Jr.

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

WELL EVEN IF THE AUDIENCE : DID WALK OUT, You Boys MADE

"2 un u HE turned up the lamp and sat there, shivering with an expectant. excitement.

OUNG Dr. ‘Douglas Kendall | arms. She was smiling up at Jack, IN ALL WELL , POP HAS MY.LIFE INSURED FOR

“One moment, please.” The operator’s voice droned on. “I'm trying to connect you. Hello, San Francisco. Hello. Here's your party. .. ” Sybil listened breathlessly. “Hello, New York! Hello!” That - was Philip's voice. ; She answered him quickly. { “Hello, Sybil? Did 1 wake you Up? I did? Well, I'm sorry, but it’s worth it. Listen to this, Sybil. Are you listening?” = “Yes, yes, Philip. Go on.” “All right. Hese's the story. - The Barrett case was one of San Francisco’s most ‘sensational murder trials—" “What?” Sybil gasped. “Murder, I said. Ten years ago, right here -in San Francisco. A man named Thomas Barrett was convicted and later hanged at San Quentin. And listen to this: he left an only daughter, Joan, 13 years old.” i “ify 8 ” YBIL'S eyes were wide. “And this one we know is the same girl?” “No doubt of it. I'm sending you copies of the pictures published. You can see the resemblance for yourself . . .” “Oh, Philip, send everything on. Get me everything you can, and send it air mail. Or better yet, fly back yourself with it tomorrow, will you, Philip?” There was a moment's hesitation at the other end of the line. Philip was still considering Tia Juans . . . “I don’t ‘think I'd better, Sybil,” he suggested. “Something might come up and you'd want someone to check details for you—" “That's right, Philip. [It would be better for you to stay there a few days longer—in case everything is not clear... Youll send the material right away—tonight?” “Before I do another thing. I'll send it airmail, special delivery.” “Philip—you’'ve handled this beautifully . . .”

She heard him chuckle. “Ele--

mentary, my dear Watson,” he said, “elementary. Well, go back . %a gleep. So long . . .”

8 2 2

O back to sleep! She sat up in bed, more wide awake than she had ever been and hugged - the information to her heart. . Joan Barrett, the . meek-as-a-mouse, doll-faced sweetheart, was the daughter of a murderer. Her father had been hanged at San © Quentin. Who could tell what outrageous ideas lurked behind the sweet blue eyes of the man’s daughter? And that was the girl Bob Andrews wanted to marry! No wonder she had told him that she'd rather die than have him find it out. Imagine living one’s life with a murderer's child! Why, at any moment, she might commit the same crime herself. It was in her blood, to kill. . .. Bob would be thunderstruck when he found it out! It was like Sybil not to consider how intensely he might be hurt; hef mind was too full of the supreme satisfaction she would know when he learned the truth. She must be careful, however. Too well she realized that. It was not going to be an easy story to tell. Bob was devoted to the girl, and his loyalty would not be swept aside in one sudden blow. She must be very, very careful. 15 might be better, she reflected, if she were not the one to tell him. Much better. © Someone else must do that. Some else must strike the blow, and she would be on hand with her sympathy and understanding and condolences , . . But who should be the one to tell him? Philip? She could not wait for Philip. This was Thursday. Friday morning, rather. On Saturday, they planned to. be married. No, it could not be Philip. Uncle John, then? She considered this carefully. Bob -honored and trusted him; he was -guided to a very large degree by Uncle John’s opinions. Moreover, Uncle John could tell

piloted his battered roadster at a lazy pace down Bondsville’s main street. A short distance ahead, he saw a slim, bare-headed girl walking slowly, her close-cropped, tawny curls aflame in the sunlight. . Doug slid the car to the curb, leaned over the side. “Hey, Saliy!” His lean, freckled countenance broke into a friendly grin. “Going home?” “Hello, Doc.” The girl's voice was listless. “How are you?” “Okay.” he opened the door. “Hop in. I'l give you a lift.” “Thanks.” Sally Hoyt climbed into the roadster. ‘As they drove cn, she stared morosely ahead, making only half-

_hearted answers to Doug's attempts

at light conversation. When, at last, they pulled up before a rambling, colonial house, Doug turned to her, suddenly quite serious. “What's the trouble?” he demanded. “Why so melancholy?” “Nothing much, I guess.” Sally smiled crookedly. “Just a little fed up.” : “At your age? Not good enough, child. You'll feel better if you spill the whole sad story. And as an up-and-coming young medico, other people's troubles are right in my line... “It’s nothing—really.” Sally's hand fumbled with the door handle. “Thanks for the lift and .. .”

& & 2

AIT a minute.” Very gently, Doug drew her back into the seat. “I don't remember seeing you at the Beach Club dance Saturday night. Or at the picnic last week. Or at the Emerson party. All that wouldn’t have anything to do with your mood, would it?” Sally laughed, but her eyes were suspiciously misty. “Just a second Cinderella,” she said tightly. “Aren't people silly when they feel sorry for themselves?” “Not silly. Natural. So it’s a question of not getting dates, eh?” Doug stared at her a moment. “Well, I'm doggoned if I can see why not —pretty and attractive as you are! Must be the way you act. Hmmm. Suppose I were Jack Emerson and I started to talk tennis to you. What would you do?” ~“I=-I'd try to change the subJect, I guess. Everybody's heard the story of how he won the Beach Club cup so many times that they know it by heart. That's all he ever talks about.” . # 8 | a ““A H!” Doug nodded his reddish head. “Don’t| you think it would be more |diplomatic to listen?” “But I'm honest. |[I-—" “There's the trouble in a nutshell.” Doug chuckled. “Can’t be honest and still be the belle of the town. Men are vain. Vain as the devil. Next time Jack starts broadcasting about. tennis, you tell him he’s wonderful, that you don’t see how he does it. Ask him to teach you. That'll give him a chance to show off. Talk business to Sam Levering, art to Bert Hassel, and so on. Just -tell them all they're wonderful, and they'll think you are!” “But I'm not interested in all those things.” “And they're probably not interested in the things you like. You take my advice, and you'll find yourself with so many beaus, you ont know what to do with them a dg Sally, laughing, stepped from the car. “Okay, Voice of Experience,” she said. “And thanks...” “A mere bagatelle, Beautiful. I always try to aid damsels in distress.” He put the car into gear. “So long, Sally. Lots of luck!”

s 2 ”

HE next day, Doug went away on his vacation. Hence, it was three weeks before he had a chance to find out whether his advice to Sally produced results. At the first dance at the Beach Club after his return, he was standing by the bar, his gaze on the doorway of the ballroom, when Sally drifted across his field of vision, held in Jack Emerson's

shit him, but I lost my temper—see-

listening rapturously to whatever he was saying. As Doug watched, he saw Bert Hassel worm his way through the crowd of swaying couples and cut in. Bert had not made one round of the ballroom before Sam Levering appeared and snatched Sally from him. Doug chuckled, a bit ruefully. “Only girl I fever knew,” ‘he muttefed, “who had to be told how to play the eternal game.” He strolled out to the porch. For some minutes, he hung over the porch rail, gazing thoughtfully out at the silvery, foam-tipped breakers and the star-sprinkled sky.

2 2 8

UDDENLY, from somewhere behind him, he heard voices—a man’s, thick, and insistent; a girl's, protesting. Doug lounged around the corner of the porch. Two indistinct figures seemed to be struggling in the semidarkness. He recognized Sam Levering's bulky form and Sally's rawgold curls. At the sound of his footsteps, Sam spun about. % “Doc!"-Sally’'s face s-2s a pale blur in the gloom. “Oh, I'm so glad you showed up! This drunk—" . “Nobody asked you to come nosing around here, Kendall!” Sam broke in angrily. “Scram!” : Doug suddenly saw red. He stepped forward, balancing on the balls of his feet. His fist swung around, describing a short but vicious semicircle, until it was stopped by Sam's pudgy stomach. ‘That gentleman gave an emphatic grunt and, suddenly abandoning any belligerent notions, staggered through the door, clutching his midsection. ” ”n on

OUG turned to Sally. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I needn’t have

ing him try to-maul you. . .. ” “But Doc .. .” Sally was close to him now, her hand resting on his arms. “You—you were wonderful!” All at once, Doc found his arms about her, his lips pressed to hers. Then, abruptly, he released her. He threw back his head and laughed—harshly. “Doc! Doc darling!” Sally's voice was dismayed. - “Whatever iu the matter?” “You've caught me with my own advice! That's the pay-off!” He laughed again. ” “But I really meant it!” Sally was breathless. “Truly! Oh, please don’t be angry. ...” “Angry?” Tenderly, he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I'm furious! So mad that I'm going to ask you to marry me!” “Gosh!” Sally murmured, swept once more into his arms. “Suppose I hadn't come to you for advice!” ft THE END

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

The characters in this story are fictitious. eet.

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Inclose a 3-cent stamp for reply when addressing any question of fact or information to The Indianapolis Times Washington Service Bureau, 1013 13th St, N. W., Washington, D. C. Legal and medical advice cannot be given, nor can extended research be undertaken.

Q—Did President Roosevelt advocate immediate payment of the soldier bonus during his campaign in 1932?

A—No. Q—What has become of the ‘opera singer, Alma Gluck? : A—She has retired from the stage and is married to the violinist, Efrem Zimbalist. They have two children. ‘ : Q—Does a body weigh more before than after death?

A—There is no difference between |- live and dead weight.

Q—In which century are we living?

A—Twentieth. Q—How old is Fred Astaire?

A—36.

ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY THE BASEBALL PLAYERS THEIR UNIFORMS ! : .

ALLEY OOP

PLAYING OUT-

SIDE SHOUTS,

FAIRNESS TO

OSCAR, I SAT NEXT TO POP REALLY DON'T HAD DRESS RETHINK HE WAS THAT

HEARSALT WELL, HE WAS MR. O'HARE , AN INSURANCE

1 41,000, AND WHEN I SWUNG INTO MY

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"WELL, WELL ! GOOD MORNING, O0oP! UP EARLY, 1 SEE! I AINT HAD SAY- YOU DON'T LOOK. /~ ANY! BEEN UP AS IF YOU'D HAD ANY ( ALL NIGHT TRYIN’ SLEEP AT ALL! TKEEP OL DINNY ’ FROM FREEZIN T DEATH

— AN’ 1 FIGGER LIFES TOO DANGED SHORT T'SIT UP NIGHTS TRYIN’ T'KEEP A CRITTER LIKE HIM WARM!

(-- 0 WE'RE GOIN’

BACK HOME, IF WE CAN FIND A WAY

THIS VALLEY -

Ws fA A S. PAT. OFF. “COPR. 1937 BY NEA SERVICE, INC.

5-18

ndicate, Inc.

crest.

place.

“I have to put that on Willie whenever there are cookies to deliver.”

HECK! AN’ I'D. PLANNED A MAMMOTH HUNT FOR TODAY! WHY, WITH A CRITTER T'GET HIM OUTA | LIKE HIM ON OUR SIDE, WE

— SAY! .

HORIZONTAL 1 Pictured game, S Frozen. 10 Emulated. 14 Small wild ox. 15 Rugged mountain

16 Genus of

~ —By Hamlin !

I GOT IT! weLL Go OUT AN BAG US A COUPLE OF THOSE BIG, HAIRY FELLAS, AN’ MAKE DINNY AN’ OVERCOAT OUTA THEIR HIDES! b

18!

CROSSWORD PUZZLE a

12 Small shield) 13 Flatfish. 21 Before. 23 Courtesy title. 24 Former mase ter golfer. 25 Music drama, 26 Soared like a kite.

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28 Exultant. 29 Verses.

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30 To frighten, 36 Scratched.

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in this_sport.

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19 Several types of ——s are used in this game.

20 Starting spots at golf holes. 22 Plateau 24 Jester. 27 Passages. 31 To deem. 32 Small memorial, 33 Mesh of lace. 34 Wine vessel, 35 To build. 38 Behind in

41 Water fowls. 42 Pertainin § erlang VERTICAL Weasel,

45 Consumer. 47 In a line. 50 To ascend. 52 A float. -56 To drive S57 River

58 Assam

59 Boy who care 8 Paragraph. -

60 Stick used to 40 Sorrowfully.

RIM 37 Ore launden

into the cup. 38 Era. 39 Kind of

t To chatter. 4, 43 Respiratory 2 Unit. sound. 3 Quantity. * 44 Native metal 4 To fix firmly. 45 To consume. 5 Type of plum. 46 To percolate, 6 Makes a 47 Part of a mistake. circle. 7 Sheltered. 43 Inlet. silkworm. place. 49 Queer. 51 Bugle plant, 53 Work of skill, 54 Sound of disgust. 55 Sailor.

embankment,

ries the golfe 9 Sand hill. er’s bag. 10 To leave . empty. roll the ball 11 Sick.

BIG % Gallon BOTTLE