Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 30 July 1937 — Page 26
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CAST OF CHARACTERS JUDITH IRVING, heroine,’ America’s best-dressed woman, PHILIP IRVING, Judith's husband. MARTA ROGERS, Judith's rival, . BRUCE KNIGHT, author, Judith's old classmate. MILLICENT BAYNE, Bruce's protege.
estranged
Yesterday—Judith suffers her first suspicions about Phil and Marta. They are confirmed when Phil telephones, “I'm being detained.”
CHAPTER TWO
ROMISING Phil that she would make his apologies, Judith held the receiver of the telephone in a frightened hand. She knew that he had no conference, no client, no business. He was taking Marta Rogers to dinner. She knew it, and yet she wanted to keep that telephone connection which bound her to her husband. When it broke, he would go back to the other woman. Phil didn't play .casually with women. His devotion and fidelity were the talk of their circle. Maybe that very thing left him open to a scheming woman of Marta Rogers’ type. She made a hasty decision. “I'm tired, Phil. I'm skipping the party, too.” His voice was surprised when he answered. Worried, too, but she could not tell if it was for her or because he felt compunction now about carrying out his own plans. “You're not ill? Judy, I'll skip the whole business and come home as soon as I can. That's what you want, isn't it, dear?”
» » 2
“ ON'T come until you're ready,” she answered. “I'll be lazy and read.” Phil preferring somebody else—it was preposterous! Of course it would be over in a week, a month. Or—would it? For six years he had preferred her. . . . “Judith Irving, you are acting like a fishwife,” she upbraided that still white face in the mirror over the telephone table. Oh, every place she looked today there were mirrors! “No, go walk home. Get so tired that nothing will look as good as a hot bath and a deep chair and a pot of tea. Hurry!”
As she started up the avenue, a |
pleasant voice spoke at her shoulder. “Maybe we met on a walk somewhere!” She turned to see Bruce Knight. She felt oddly pleased. “I hate teas,” he said smiling disarmingly. “So do I,” she answered. I go to hundreds of them.” “Why do we do it?” She answered, explaining it more to herself than to him.
» » ” * Y husband likes them . . . the
geniality after the day's work. I like people but not in crowds.
’
“But
I feel that my thoughts are being |
stepped on.” “Have you seen my play yet?” he asked presently. She shook her head, dark and shining under the simple blue sailor that matched the hyacinth jacket. “It’s a sellout. We have to wait until we can get seats.” “I'll send you tickets” A boy and a girl from Pittsburgh, walking together again. She thanked him as she turned off at the street which led over to the East River and her apartment. He would send two seats, of course. She had a premo-
nition that she would be seeing the |
play alone. But she didn't call off her engagement. Instead she left a note for Phil and went. He came when the play that followed the dinner was half over. There were photographers in the lobby during the intermission and Judith smiled and posed while her frock was being photographed. Bestdressed woman—Phil stood near, smiling at her. Suddenly she became
aware that the old warmth was!
missing. He was giving her a courteous gesture. He looked amused, a little critical. » EJ =
1 was the reason for the perplexity in her face in the pictures next day. The dress had photographed perfectly. It was white silk crepe with bands of
“It was tomorrow but it can be today,” she answered, glad to be taken away from herself,
” » »
EATED with Bruce in the comfortable chintz-draped dining room of the Union Club, busy with iced grapefruit, Judith suddenly put down her spoon. Two familiar figures were approaching. One was a small woman in a leaf green frock with & saucy hint of a hat on yellow curls, The other was a broadshouldered man, tall and lithe, and he smiled down at the woman as he talked to her.
But Phil smiled at everyone that way! Atter all, a man couldn't have a set of special gestures for his wife. Judith looked up as Phil looked down. Her gray eyes, steady and dark now, were serious but her lips curved humorously.
There were introductions and no one but the woman who loved him knew that Phil was disturbed. Then he and Marta found a corner table, the grapefruit was replaced by creamed mushrooms, and the con- | versation went back and forth like a well-trained bouncing ball,
" » ”
| Q@ TRANGE how life changes one, : Judith was thinking. Ten years ago she would have gone home to cry. Not now, though. At least, she had a background of experi- | ence against which to make com- | parisons, a foundation of courage. So, when the luncheon was over, she flung a smile, gav and devastating, at the two who loitered. | She wanted to laugh because they {had chosen such a discreet room for their rendezvous. Life was so funny—so terribly funny. . . . Bruce suggested the matinee of his play when they were on the street and she accepted. She didn’t want to go home alone. So it happened that she ' spent
AAU NS NR ARIANA
the afternoon watching the man
who had taken her home that one | night, long ago, bring courage and faith and sacrifice to a role. He was a great actor. She knew that now, She wouldn't tell him whe she was. She wouldn't see him again. She must just thank him and say goodby. Voices from his dressing room shut her out, even when the attendant had granted entrance permission. “I don’t want to love you, Bruce. I honestly don’t. But I can’t help it!” That was Millicent, facing life with the utter candor of the younger generation.
=u » »
- OU don’t—you mustn't—Millicent, it's madness. I'm 31, youre 19 . . . You'll get over it, Milly. It's nothing, nothing—" Two years older than I was 13 years ago, thought Judith. She would ask the girl to drop by some afternoon. Maybe she could help her. Suddenly she wanted to help her terribly, intensely. She was being hurt, too. Were all women hurt? Hurt but walked on because there was no place to retreat. Millicent had been a popular debutante last year, feted at Princeton, Harvard, Yale. She had a stag line of football stars. Yet she loved Bruce. That night Phil mentioned Marta. “It's still unfinished business,” he said. “We didn't get the bonds chosen.” “Phil,” Judith said, after long silence. “Yes, darling?” His voice was comfortable and relaxed. “I want to talk. Let's say goodby to the civilized world’s Friday night and go out to the lodge and fish this week-end. We're too much surrounded by people. There are guests all the time. Maybe if we thought clearly—" She stopped. She had almost voiced something— something quite voiceless. “Go on, Judy,” Phil said quietly.
(To Be Continued)
| Daily Short Story
ALARM CLOCKS—By Frank Bennett
NE hundred and seven alarm clocks sold during the last cight months to one customer. I | whistled in amazement and stared
lat the figures. Unbelievable! The | door swung open. I slipped the led|ger into a pigeonhole and stood Archie Rand, the Sheriff, came in grinning, but I knew by the angle |of his cigar that something was | wrong. | “Jim,” he began, “Cliff Webb has been murdered. His body was found ‘en the footbridge that crosses the lagoon in Forest Park. He'd been {shot through the heart—with a steel-tipped arrow!” Cliff Webb murdered! A steeltipped arrow! I nearly dropped my pencil, but I managed a grin and said, ‘So what?” { Archie shifted his cigar and {leaned on the showcase. “Jim, you {had a grudge against Cliff.” “Yeah,” 1 said, “and so did about 400 others.”
” » ®
LSO,” he went on, “you're the best archer in the club. I've | seen you put four out of five steel|tipped arrows in an eight-inch | bullseye at a hundred feet. Cliff | was shot from the boat landing. | That's below the bridge and only ! about 30 feet from it.” | “Yeah, I could shoot a half-dol-lar from between a man’s teeth at | that distance,” I told him. “But | there's at least a dozen in the club | who could have pinked him at 30 | feet. Why pick on me?” i “Because I've seen the others, and | { they've got alibis. I've saved you | for the last.” | I was peeved. I stuck my chin | up within an inch of Archie's cigar {and said, “When did this happen? | Maybe I've got an alibi, too.”
| > » » | QOMETIME between 8:30 and 10, | Archie told me. Cliff Webb had
“«
| pointed. Archie's face turned sort
| “Sure, he's blind. But think of the |
| bellowed.
gold and silver embroidery thay |Peen to the pool hall and played edged the cape and the panels |a couple of games of snooker with
and made the belt. She had arisen |SOMe of the boys. He left the pool early to have breakfast with Phil|Dall at 8:30, and at 10 a young | and she smiled as she showed him |COUPle, enjoying the moon and a | the paper. He looked at the pic- Valk. found his body on the foot- |
tured face, and when his eyes | bridge. Jain 1 f \ searched her own face they were | It WaS plain to be seen from the
troubled. “Are you ill, Judy?” “No, Phil, dear. Why?" “Would a trip help you? perhaps?” “I don't think so.” Oh, if you would only tell me about Marta, if there is anything to tell; if you would put the cards on the table and let me help you face it. Please, Phil! Outwardly her face was quiet. “Honey, let's lunch together. I'll pick you up down on Wall Street—" ” ® ” E looked at her a little sadly. As though there were thing she couldn't understand; as though there were something he wished to tell her and couldn't. He was hunting a path to reach her. Impulsively she spoke: “What is it, Phil?” He started. “What? Oh — oh nothing at all. I'm ending up a business deal at lunch today. How about tomorrow?” Tomorrow didn’t matter. Not even if she had not made the date with Bruce Knight. She told him about that now and his interest quickened. When her telephone rang an hour later and she heard Bruce's voice she was glad. Here was someone who wanted to see her; someone without romantic implications; that was over. “Was it today or tomorrow, or botk, we're lunching?” he asked. “I honestly
forgot.”
Paris
some- |
angle of the arrow in Cliff's body | that it had been shot from below {and from one side of the bridge. The ground was soft around the lagoon, but Archie had been unable {to find any footprints. Therefore, | he concluded that the niurderer had {stood on the concrete boat landing. | “Sorry, old man,” I grinned, “that |I can’t claim the honor of doing away with the town’s worst char|acter. You see, I've been in the store all evening. You can check with Mark and Eva. They just went home. There's the telephone.” Mark is my wabch-repairman and | Eva works at the gift counter.
RCHIE made no move to use the phone. He just stared at | me in a disappointed way and said, | “Well, then, who the hell would | shoot Cliff Webb with an arrow? | You're president of the Creston | Archer's Club. You should know | everyone in town who shoots with a bow and arrow.” “There are 14 members of the club,” IT told him. Then I named them for him, and be checked the names off on a slip of paper which he had. “I've seen ‘em all,” he growled after I had finished, “and they've got air-tight, leak-proof alibis.” “Good,” IT laughed. “Then no one around here did it.” Archie swore. “This is murder, Jim. Raw murder. It's serious. Think hard. Ain’t there anyone else
|
in town who can shoot good enough to kill a man at 30 feet?”
T MAKES Archie mad to be kidded, so I said, “Sure. There's a fellow who dropped out of the club about two years ago. He was one of the best shots, too.” Archie perked up. “Who?” “Bill Morris,” I said, watching for him to blow up. I wasn't disap-
of purple. He took a long breath and swore beautifully. “Look here,” he shouted at last, “what's the idea of feeding me a line like this? Bill Morris is blind.” “Sure,” I shouted back at him.
motive he’s got.” About two years ago Cliff Webb ran off with Bill's youngest sister. Bill idolized her, and his heart was broken. The sister came back six months later and died in less than a month. Bill drowned his sorrow in whisky and drove his car into a freight train. He was hurt pretty badly, and the shock left him blind. Bill swore he'd get Clifi Webb sometime, but no one paid any attention to him. Poor Bill, blind and with both legs in casts, didn’t seem very formidable.
RCHIE'S cigar jerked angrily. “Sure, Bill had a motive,” he “But Bill can’t see. He | couldn’t have shot Cliff with a bow |
and arrow. Any fool would know |
better than that.” Archie was mad, and I was de- | lighted. “Bill does a lot of things! without his eyes,” I argued. “He | gets all around town. He runs his |
radio shop. He knows his customers and friends by the sound of their voices and footsteps. He told | me that he was inventing some kind | of a new-fangled alarm clock and—" I stopped. Alarm clocks!—107 of them. I swallowed, choked and knew that my face had gone as white as a sheet. Archie's eyes popped. “What's the matter with you?” he asked suddenly. “You look sick.” “I'm all right,” 1 panted. “Been having—a little indigestioh. Nothing to worry—about.” “You'd better see a doctor,” Archie advised. “You look like you had one foot in the grave.” Then he sighed heavily and left. A little later I'd figured it out like this: If a fellow got so he could hit an alarm clock with an arrow by aiming at the sound of the ringing alarm, he could hit a man who was walking across a wooden bridge. And Bill Morris had bought 107 alarm clocks during the last eight months!
THE END
(Copyright. 1937, United Feature Syndicate)
The characters in this story are fictitions —————————————————
If anyone doubts the healthy condition of the American theater let him ponder on the success of the principal shows on the road last season—Alfred Lunt, stage star.
Women reputedly know the price of everything but the value of nothing. As far as man is concerned, a dollar today is merely an ‘s” which has been double-crossed.—Prof. R. L. Sackett, Mississippi University.
There is not a vital principle of free government with which this ruthless fascism is not in conflict. It could not survive a fortnight in the atmosphere of free discussion.— Senator Borah (Rep. Ida.).
Frustration is the key to most
social maladjustments.—Dr. John Dollard, Yale University sociologist.
It’s the “Refreshing” thing to do— DRINK
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/ WE HAFTA PUT IT IN DRY DOCK SO WE CAN FIX IT.
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_ FRIDAY; JULY 30, 1837
FLAPPER FANNY By Sylvia
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“He must have been a terror; they won't talk about him at all.”
“Well, some people try to hide the family skeleton, but it’s better to make no bones about it.” ;
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DIFF'RENCE BETWEEN HAM SA ANA $100,000
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—By Raeburn Van Buren
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LINDERSTANDS YOU.
YOU'RE NOT IN LOVE WITH MEprin HIS MONEY
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; » <q i © 1937 by United Feature Syndicate, Ine.
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Q—What is the Federal Fire Council ? A—A Government agency organized in April, 1930. by collective action of Government departments and establishments and created by executive order June 20, 1936, as an official advisory agency in matters relating to fire protection of Federal employees and property.
Q—What is a simple method of preventing eggs from spreading | while poaching them? ; A—Stir the boiling water in one direction and drop the egg in the | middle of the swirl. Q—How high is Lookout Mountain, near Chattanooga, Tenn.? A—It has an elevation above sea | level of 2126 feet. Q—Is there any scheduled passenger airline service in Alaska? A—Yes. More than 17,000 people traveled by air in Alaska in 1936. | Q—Where are the principal trap- | shooting meets in the United States? A—At Vandalia, O. Q—When were the penalty envelopes first used by Government officials and departments? A—May 1, 1879. Q—Were any of the Old Testament prophets wealthy? A—Probably Isaiah, who spent much time at the palace in Jerusalem and was an adviser of four successive kings, was a wealthy man. Q—Is it safe to put canaries in newly painted wire cages? A—No. It is important to let newly painted wire bird cages dry
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by the Judiciary Act of Sept. 24, 17892 ¢ A—Chief Justice John Jay and Associate Justices William Cushing, James Wilson, John Blair, James Iredell and Thomas Jefferson. Q—Does the Governor of a state rank ahead of the Vice President? A—No. The Vice President ranks
| 17 Age.
Rn Noll COM. PRN DON AH d
Yi RLING! TOMORROW ¥ YOU'LL BE MRS. MELVIN MOXEY—AND FLL BE THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD!
By, & TA
CROSSWORD PUZZLE
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