Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 September 1937 — Page 18

| CHAPTER ONE

: T= soap slid over the edge of the tub and across: the bathroom floor,. three feet beyond the reach of the tud’s lovely occupant. “Darn!” said Cilly. (Priscilla, to you. Miss Priscilla Pierce, of the late Bensonhurst Pierces.) She slithered down to the edge of the tub and reached again. With two strong fingers, she grasped the soap, only to have it slide another yard toward the door.

“Darn!” she said again. Then to herself: “If I have to get out of this tub, I'm out for good.” Somewhere in the night a church . clock struck. Cilly listened, counting the |strokes. “Twelve o'clock,” she murmured. “I'm going to bed.” She remembered that she had a full morning’s work ahead of her the next day, if she was to finish that Harvey brief by noon. And she was never her best on Monday morning; Tomorrow would be no exception. She jumped out of the tub, rescued the slippery soap and returned it to its cubicle above the tub. Then with a huge Turkish towel she rubbed her tall slim body until it glowed.

# n #”

“YF Amy Kerr had one iota of sense,” she was thinking all the while, “she wouldn’t have suggested another rubber of bridge at 11 o'clock. Nor would she be up on the roof now airing her blue dress! Airing her dress, my grandmother. | She's never been so fussy before. |What made her want to go up on| the roof at 12 o'clock?” Cilly grabied her pajamas from the hook| on the bathroom door and jumped into them unceremoniously. Amy might at least have realized that it was nervewracking to have the door unlocked when one was taking a bath. But tonight Amy was certainly inconsiderate.| : : “I won't be a minute, Cilly . . . I'm just going up on the roof to air this blue dress so that I can wear it tomorrow. It smells like a gasoline| station now. . . . Leave the door open, that’s a dear.”

| 2 2 nn ELL, it certainly was a long minute. More like 20. Cilly went into the bedroom they shared together and sat down at the frilled dressing table. This was the moment of the daily hairbrushing—100 strokes. It wasn’t all accident “that Cilly’s dull auburn hair shone so richly. Seven, eight, nine, ten . . . Just a minute, to air this blue dress. Tommyrot! Cilly was thoroughly annoyed at Amy’ Kerr tonight. |And not a little annoyed at herself for being such a jealous fool. It wasn’t as if Amy was a different person by nature. She wasn’t. | She was a peach. In the two months they had shared the apartment, Cilly and Amy had grown as close as sisters. Cilly had been doubtful at first about taking a strange girl in to share her home, but she had never regretted doubling up with Amy Kerr. And with expenses just about cut in half, they were already planning a trip to the West Indies that winter. | That is, if nothing happened in the meantime. Seven, eight, nine, 20 ,.,..

Ps a =

F nothing happened in the meantime, Actually, Cilly was thinking: “If Jim doesn’t insist on getting ‘married before then.” He'd been on the point of it a dozen ‘times, Cilly knew, but something always held him back. “Oh, (Cilly, darling!”—it was Jim who d christened her “Cilly” in place of the prim and pure “Priscilla” for her great-grandmother— “Oh, Cilly, if I could only rin off with you right this very day . . . you do love me, don’t you, darling? You will wait for me, no matter what happens?” Wait for him! Hadn’t she waited 27 years for someone exactly like Jim Kerrigan? If she waited another thousand years,; would she ever find anyone else so utterly dear, so thoughtful, so tender? Seven, eight, nine, 40 . . .. He'd never said exactly just what held him back, but Cilly understood. It was his new job. He had only been in New York a little over six months; he had to make good before he could ask a girl to marry him. She could well afford to be patient. Seven, eight, nine, 60 . ... Or could she? 2 ” ”

OR the first time since she had known| Jim, she felt a little twinge of uncertainty. These past few months-it had been just Jim and she—just the two of them together. Dancing at the French Casino. | Swimming at Jones Beach. Looping the loop at Coney Island. Cooking hot dogs over a campfire at Hillsside Park. Holding hands at the Paramount. Stealing a Kiss downstairs in the vestibule . . . just two people in all New York. Cilly Bleron and Jim Kerrigan. Until tonight.

Until this very evening when she

had suggested to Amy that they invite their respective beaus in for a quiet Sunday evening. “So we can all get to know each other better,” she had said to Amy. “Four people can have so much more fun together than just two.” Well, they certainly got to know each other better. Jim and Amy, at any rate. You'd have thought they’d known each other all their lives. The way Amy's eyes lighted up when she introduced them . . . the | where've-you-been-all-my-life look that Jim gave Amy, Seven, eight, nine, 80 .... - It was just too bad she couldn’t have (gone for Amy’s date in the same spirit. Harry Hutchins. A loud-mouthed, conceited fool. The sort who can always tell the other fellow how to play bridge. A wise E ” ”

guy. | LLY marveled that a girl like C could have stood his pn. pany for one evening. Amy¥ was _attractive—a girl with charm and poise and good breeding. Surely she could see through the bluff that was Harry Hutchins. But apparently she didn’t. To all appearances, she was completely gone on him. Why, if two days passed without her hearing from him, she'd call him at his hotel. It made Cilly mad. Once she remarked about it to Amy, not that she had any right to comment. But Amy was such a good-hearted soul; she'd never real-

ize when someone was giving her a raw deal. : “Let him chase you,” Cilly had said. “There’s more zest to a man when you keep him guessing.” “But Amy had just shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, Cilly,” she replied. “You don’t understand this {affair between Harry and me.”

2 ” » O, CILLY didn’t understand it. But she understood Harry Hutchins. Only too well. He was the answer to every maiden's prayer

—at least he thought so. And poor Amy was just another girl who had fallen prey to his deadly charm.

Cilly knew that Harry had other interests. In greener fields. It was no secret that Harry Hutchins was making a heavy play for Gloria Harmon, whose father had left her a string of chain stores. “The Brooklyn rotogravure sections printed photographs of them together—at. the race, at the smartest supper clubs in Manhattan, at the Harmon estate on Long | Island.

Even tonight he had boasted of spending ther previous week-end “down at Harmony Hall.” But all this went over poor Amy’s head. Either she had not a bit of jealousy in her makeup, or she had a forlorn hope that in time she could win her precious Harry back. Seven, eight, nine, 100. . . . Cilly put the brush down. - Per--haps that was it. Perhaps Amy had been so especially sweet to Jim 'this evening just to make Harry jealous. Cilly couldn’t blame her for that. However, that didn’t explain this going up on the roof. And spending half an hour up there. It wasn’t pleasant up on the roof at midnight, unless the moon rode high in a cloudless sky. Tonight it was cloudy, and there was no moon. It would be terrifying all alone up there!

_ (To Be Continued)

“Madman’s Island” ends today on Page Seven.

Daily Short Story

STILL CHAMP—By Paul R. Waddell

HE sports writers came out to camp that day to watch the champ do his stuff. He went nine rounds of exhibition. I asked the boys up to the lodge for a drink after. : McVickers: who is syndicated out of New York, turned his glass in his hands and blew smoke rings. “His legs are shot,” he answered. “He’s too old in his legs. He won’t last. He's been the greatest of them all, but he won't get by this one. Drepp is young and tough, and he’s got a punch. The champ won't get by this one.” “He’ll outbox him,” I said. “Maybe. Drepp has a punch, and he’s young. Your man has been up there a long time now. It's about time—" They all thought that. I argued with them. but I knew myself they were right.

» » 2

HE champ worked hard the last week of training. His wind was better and his timing looked almost as good as ever. was still the best boxer that ever had leather on his fists. But the press boys didn’t change their opinions. Nor did I. We knew what was happening in the challenger’s camp: Drepp was killing all his sparring partners,

and in better shape than he'd ever

beén in his life. And his record was 19 knockouts in 20 fights. The odds moved to 5 to 1 on Drepp the night before the fight. The champ came to my room that night. I knew by his expression that some way or other he’d heard abour it. “Mack,” he said, half-smiling, “let’s not kid each other. How much money you got on Drepp?”

” s »

STUDIED the pattern in the rug for a minute. This wasn’t going to be easy, and there was no use lying. He probably knew most of it, if he knew this much. j “Fifty grand,” I said. He just sat there, cracking his knuckles. “Steve, I'm not crossing you,” I told him. “Twenty-five of it is for you. I just didn’t want you to know.” : He didn’t look at me. “So you think this is my last?” “I'm not sure of anything, Steve. I'm taking a gambler’s chance. I'm not asking you to lay down, or throw the fight. I'm just playing a hunch so we’ll have a little insurance in case—" ‘Mack, I don’t want any| part of that money. It's all yours, win or lose!” | “But Steve, 50 thousand [bucks is dough, and youre getting -old. You've been up there a long time, and—" He walked to the door. “I'm still the champ,” he said, and left me there with words in my mouth.

going to be

2 » 2

| REPP was in the ring when we got there, Steve got a nice round of applause at the introduction, but Drepp got a longer and louder hand. He had a tall, thick body and long arms with heavy muscles.

The first two rounds Drepp

couldn't get to Steve, He missed punches, long and short. In the third he was wiser. Steve couldn't feint him any more. They traded punches in the middle of the ring, and Steve gave ground. Drepp followed him into the corner. Steve stabbed him with a left, threw a right at his chin. Drepp stepped

inside of it and exploded his right

under Steve's heart. Steve clinched. The referee broke them. Drepp attacked, but Steve was only counterpunching now. He kept jabbing with his left to keep Drepp away. Drepp bored in, swung and uppercut from the floor. Steve ducked) I could hear the wind of that one as it passed Steve's ear. The bell rang. ” Fd 2 E worked on Steve. He was breathing hard. His body was a red blotch where Drepp’s punch

had caught him. “How is it?” I asked. He coughed water into the funnel. The water was red. “He’s got pig-iron in that hand.” “Steve, you don’t have to take this.” “ to the devil, Mack.” Steve used everything he knew to keep Drepp from the killing in the fourth. He danced, feinted, clinched. Drepp went mad, and started swinging them from everywhere. It was just what Steve wanted. Drepp never reached him for the rest of the round. Drepp came out coolly in the fifth. He was still mad, but he knew what he was doing. He stalked Steve, coldly alert. But Steve didn’t give. He quit boxing and slugged as viciously as Drepp. Drepp planted his right in Steve’s ribs again. I thought his arm would go clean through. Steve clinched. The bell rang. : Steve came into his corner tiredly. He couldn’t breathe. The boys worked on him. He wouldn’t let them touch his ribs. He was holding himself in the middle, as though if he’d let go he'd come all apart. “Steve, for God’s sake,” I pleaded. “He’ll kill you!” “Yeah,” Steve said. “And it'll cost you 50 grand if he don’t!” “Use your head, Steve. You can’t get by. Why get yourself—” “Shut up!” 2 ” ” 3 TEVE went out cautiously for the sixth. Drepp met him in the middle of the ring. They touched each other with a right and a left. Drepp pounded Steve's eyes again. It was pretty terrible, I tell you. Steve wouldn't come out of his crouch. He was bleeding badly, and still holding himself in the middle. He was all raw there. Steve threw his left wide over Drepp’s shoulder. Drepp stepped inside of it to kill with his right. But Steve didn’t wait. He straightened suddenly as Drepp walked in and cut him dead with an uppercut that nearly took his head off. Drepp went down backwards. The boys in the bleachers heard him land, I'll bet. They counted over Drepp. “One, two, three, four, five—" Steve was standing there, holding

A FLASH OF LIGHTNING

ABOUT FIVE M/ILLIONTHS OF

NEXT—How does the ‘roots?

‘mole cricket cut its way through tough grass *

A SECOND AND IT AVERAGES 25, O00, OOO HORSE POWER.

IT REQUIRED ABOUT

SOO TONS OF RIVETS

TO FASTEN TOGETHER A, 9,500 TON SHIP,

“p

BUILD THEIR NESTS

SOME species of birds go about the business of house-building in a leisurely fashion, while others work feverishly to complete the task. The English sparrow will complete a nest in a few hours,-while the South American oven bird takes about three months. : : * ® »

OUT OUR WAY

IN TH "WASH FER? THATS

CROW'S NEST ~

WANT HOLES TUB TH

AIN'T NO USE DOIN'

TH BLOOD 15 FROZEN ON HER ROW-HER EXERALLS

-SMILIN’ VISION MLSTA COME J”

Cepr. 1937 by

United Feature Syndleate, 1 Tm. Reg. U. 8. Pat. Of—AIl richie reserved

Rr une rn THE UNDERTOW.

I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT ~ IT WOULDN'T HOLD THAT BOAT OFF TH BOTTOM, ANYWAY =

‘By Williams

JR WILLAMS q-15

9-15

“That's the third car she’s ruined. Gee, she’s a jittery

driver.”

“That's the kind that make the nervous wrecks.”

—By Al Capp

AH CAIN'T NOT TELL YO'S- AH

AH HAS DO WHUT AH GOTTA DO

No.15

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

ABBIE AN' SLATS

SURE THAT JUDY WON'T GOIN’ WITH THAT E ROUGHAWAY,

LITTLE SCRAPPL. NECK WHILE, iM

TADS 4) ” 17 i a Hh Toll \ ; \ £ 1937 by United Feature Syndicate, Ine.’ o §.\

o> A i

himself in the middle with both arms. He was bleeding all over. “Six, seven, eight, nine—" Steve fell flat on his face at the count of 10. He was out cold. I told Steve about it just before they wheeled him into the operating room. | “Fifty grand out the window,” I said to him. “And the doc says you won’t fight any more.” The grin looked queer on his swollen face. » “So what?” he says. “I'm still the Champ.” THE END

The characters in this story are fictitious. (Copyright, 1937, United Feature Syndicate)

ASK THE TIMES

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. GC. Legal ahd medical advice ca: t be given, nor can extended research be undertaken.

Q—I understand that, early in 1937, the Maryland State Legislature passed a bill legalizing hand bookmakers in the state. Did it] become a law? . A—It was vetoed by Governor Nice. a Q—Can you suggest a simple inexpensive menu for a wedding breakfast? A—Consomme or bouillon, chicken salad, finger rolls, fruit cup, nuts and bonbons, ices, cake and coffee. Q—How did Eleanora Duse pronounce her last name? A—“Doo’-sa (as in say).

Q—I have seen pictures of men shooting fish with bows and arrows. Where does that custom prevail?

A—They are regularly used for fishing in New Caledonia and parts

| WANT TO BE ABSOLUTELY Y 1S THAT WHY \ BE A YOU'VE AOVERTISED FOR

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MISSING ...HIS DRESSER DRAWER WAS CAREFULLY RANSACKED... AND THE FOOTPRINTS WERE NOT HIS! A PANE OF GLASS WAS BROKEN

TOO I!

—By Raeburn Van Buren

OFF]

YES=1 WANT JUDY T'‘BE SORTA=-GUARDED = hi AN’ NOT

ALL TH’

AN'—WHILE. SHE'S HY TH HOUSE-HELL BEE AROUND TENDIN * GARDEN —

“Somebody’s flooding the city with counterfeit $1000 bills —we better warn the public to examine carefully each bill they receive.”

\ *Gope. 1937 by United Feature Syndicate, ao.

of Western Melanesia. The American Indians frequently used bows and arrows for the purpose. Many aborigines, when they carry no other weapons, use arrows for fishing, Q—How should one eat fresh fruit such as peaches, bananas, apples, grapes; plums and cherries, when served whole? A—These are classed as “finger foods” and are eaten with the fingers. Apples, peaches and bananas should be peeled onto the plate and

the banana being soft can be eaten with a fork; grapes, plums and cherries are eaten with the fingers and the seeds removed from the mouth, one at atime, between the thumb and forefinger.

Q—To settle a dispute, I should like to know how many illegitimate children are born annually in the United States. ’

A—The most recent figures available are for 1934 when 85,197 illegiti-

i1 To require.

mate births were recorded, including 6399 still births. : -

BUT-?7?=WHERE. DOES TH PART

THAT =O! M70’ HO = IS TH’ BEST PART OF IT: ANY TIME HE CATCHES b SLATS SC HANGIN’ MUS

NECESSAR' HO HO =) HOPE IT'LL. BE NECESSARYOFTEN !!

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CROSSWORD PUZZLE

HORIZONTAL

Answer to Previous Puzzle

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1, 5 Author pice ’ tured here.

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ndian. 50 Diner.

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1 Being. 2 Flood. 3 Born.

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ballot.

"7% Scarlet.

8 Sack.

SITINA ATE

SEIN ATHENS

ClTiliC VERTICAL

16 Minor note. 18 She was born in e—,

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THE

BUY! Call CH. 7183

BEST

—

POLK’S ow: ner MILK