Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 November 1937 — Page 16

ee A A i Tw RF THREAT ER. TA RARE

PAGE 16

CAST OF CHARACTERS JILL. WENTWORTH, heroine, tive debutante. ALAN JEFFRY, hero, artist. BARRY WENTWORTH, brother. JACK WENTWORTH, Jill’s brother. SYLVIA SUTTON, oil heiress.

Yesterday: The death of John Wentworth appears to be a murder and the police order a search for Jill when she fails to return to the house.

attracrising young

Jill’s step-

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE T was one of those things that couldn't happen. But it had, Patty told herself. She was - star- | ing at the front page of a news- | paper. Night before last, while she was spending the week-end with relatives in the country, Jill Wentworth’s millionaire father had died. | Or rather, the paper today announced he had died from a heart attack after he had been struck by | some unknown person. Police, the story ran, had found Jill “driving aimlessly about” early yesterday morning, and she had given "no satisfactory explanation of her strange conduct.” They were holding her, with other members of the family, for investigation. The worst of it, the paper declared, was that Jill wouldn't talk. 2 » 2 gs ILLIONAIRES Daughter Questioned About Flight From Home,” cried the headlines. “Oh,” Patty thought wildly, “this | is terrible. Something must be done.” She must do something. There was more, A story about the Wentworth company being on the brink of ruin. “Complete collapse of huge holdings threatened, with veteran owner dead,” ancther banner read. “Directors and Bankers Go Into Critical Conference.” Patty flung the paper aside. No! time to be reading newspaper accounts, when Jill was at her home battling police and their absurd suspicions. Patty fairly burned up the miles during the next hour, putting her | cilapidated little car into its speed- | jest stride. { 5 Ww » SUBDUED-LOOKING doorman let her into the big mansion. Patty crossed the entrance hall and mounted the broad stairs with contemptuous disregard of the official groups about. Jill's maid opened the door of Jill's room, answering Patty's knock. Mrs. Wentworth had given instruction that Miss Jill was not to be disturbed, she said. But Jill's voice rang out: “Patty, Patty! Come in.” «Jill, darling,” Patty cried, when the door had closed behind the departing maid, “I'm so distressed about your father. I was in the country, and didn’t know. Nobody ever reads the paper at Aunt Barbara’s.” She put her arms around Jill, who clung to her, helplessly.

es HEY think I did it—" came Jill's whisper. "Yes, they do, Patty. I can see it in their eyes. Mother told them about how surprised everyone was when I announced my engagement. And now that they know about dad's business troubles, they're insinuating I was forced by Dad to announce. And that afterward I quarreled with him and threw a heavy object at him . .. which caused heart failure.” “Did you ever hear of anything as idiotic as that?” Patty's voice was vehement. “The police can be mighty dumb sometimes. Pouncing upon any little molehill of evidence and making a great big mountain of it.” She couldn't bear the way Jill looked. So white and helpless, staring out of great sorrowful eves. As though she really didn't see anything. “They say I was running away from something, and I was,” Jill said. “But I can't tell them about it.” “But, Jill, darling, you must!” Patty cried, horrified. “The police—" “Yes, I know,” Jill answered. “But you couldn't expect me to tell them I went to a man who didn't love me.” ® =n = “¥ILL, you went to Alan Jeffry.” “Yes. I couldn't have him despise me utterly. So, as soon as it was daylight I drove to his place to explain about dad; how I had decided at the ball to announce my engagement to Milo to save dad. It was 6 o'clock when I left the place. That was the time Miss Dexter and mother heard dad fall.” Jill shuddered. “Then, that’s a perfect alibi,” Patty exclaimed. “You couldn't possibly be in two places at the same time. Alan will tell them you came there.” “He may not know,” Jill said in a low voice. “There was a girl there, and she answered the doorbell. Then I went away.” “Ardath!” Patty cried. Then, as Jill did not reply, “Of course it was. I always felt she was out to get Alan.” * © =

“YT makes no difference now,” Jill said, dully. “I don't love him now. I couldn’'t—knowing about Ardath. TI was wild at first, though, and I drove around trying to get myself together. I must have looked dreadful because the officer who stopped me said: ‘Pull yourself together, girl. You're going to need all of your wits now.” I thought he was talking about speeding. I said, ‘Please let me alone. I'll pay the fine’ Then he said: ‘Money won't help you out now, Miss Wentworth. They want to question you about your father's death.’ Just like that!” Patty patted Jill's trembling hands. “They're right about pulling yourself together, Jill. Nobody in their right mind would think you had anything to do with it. Everyone knows you adored your father. All you have to do is to say you felt you owed Alan an explanation about announcing your engagement so abruptly, and had driven to his place. You can say after you got there, you changed your mind, realizing an explanation would do no good. You can say you saw Afdath on the street and she spoke to you. Which will be the truth, if only a part of it.” “I'd rather die!” Jill cried. “I could never ask Alan—or Ardath— to help me.” “All right, we'll think of some other way.” Patty's voice was soothing. “Just leave it to me, and don’t worry.” ® = » HE was thinking: Ardath and Alan are the only two people in the world who can help her. They've

ILL

I don’t care how many blond women were at his place that morning. I still think he loves Jill. “Did you see anyone else about that time?” Patty probed. “Yes. An old woman in a thin coat. She was standing in front of the apartment. I took off my red scarf and put it about her neck, and I gave her a bill. She , was | talking about the time, and I told her it was 6 o'clock. She said I didn’t have to tell her, because she told time by the sun.” Patty got to her feet. She would go to Alan at once. Jill was in desperate trouble, and this was no time to think about reputations. It would be better, Patty decided practically, to live with no reputation at all, than to die with one. Or spend your life in prison. She couldn’t bear such a thought. If Jill were indicted for manslaughter — and she was fairly sure that was the way things were heading—she was going to need an alibi. It was up to Patty to get one.

= 8 ”

H, what a whirl everything was in. And the world had been spinning about so normally only a few days ago. And wasn’t it dumb of Mrs. Wentworth to tell the police about the engagement being such a surprise to everyone. But maybe it hadn't been dumb. Maybe she had planned to throw suspicion on Jill, for some reason. “What did the police say? What made them think you and your father had quarreled?” Patty asked suddenly. “The inspector said: ‘Parents don’t realize they make trouble for themselves when they're too indulgent. Are you sure you and vour stepfather didn’t quarrel about the expensive party you were giving? Wasn't it strange that you

BY MARY RAYMOND

ruin? Maybe he insisted on your engagement to young Montanne, son of his banker. And maybe, after you did, you regretted it— and quarreled with him? Tell us the truth, Miss Wentworth. It will be to your advantage not to hide anything.” ” ” on JI did sound plausible, the case they were building up, Patty thought unhappily. Oh, poor Jill, what a trap she was in. “Somebody got in—a burglar. And then became frightened and left,” Patty said. Jill shook her head. “The house was locked carefully. There wasn’t a door or window open. Nothing was missing, except dad’s paperweight, which they found between some magazines. Nobody was in the house except Jack and Barry, mother and Miss Dexter. So you see it couldn’t—" “Well, I still say those detectives and police are stupid. They could try to place suspicion on anybody else. What about Barry? It seems to me—" “Oh, no!” Jill cried. But her eyes were suddenly wide and bright, her face flushed. She was remembering Barry as she had last seen him: drunk, ugly, cunning. How terrible! Barry might be all of those things. But he would never have tried to kill father. She would never tell anyone about poor, weak Barry, How frightened he had looked today, avoiding her eyes. Ashamed. She wouldn't tell them he was up when she left the house. Not if she really died for it. “Jill, dear, don't!” Patty cried. Jill had buried her face in hands and was weeping, despairingly.

[ would have given such a party when

his company was on the verge of

(To Be Continued)

Daily Short Story

NEW GIRL—By Frederic Powell

HEN Clyde and Hank splashed out of the showers and into th» locker room of the Southtown Country Club they said, “Lo, Shorty,” to a tow-headed young man fussing before a mirror. “Lo, men.” Shorty Dye grinned and sat down on a bench facing the two older men. He smiled patronizingly at Clyde, who, as advertising manager of the J. & R. Co, happened to be his boss. “Who you bringing to the club dance tonight, Clyde?” Clyde, tall and darkly handsome in his late 20s, gave a jerk of his head. “You know us, Shorty—just a couple of old bachelors. We'll come stag.” He went on dressing, then, as though the question were expected, asked: “Who are you bring-

| ing?”

” ” ”

‘ME Oh, a girl named June,” Shorty answered. “June? June who?" “You wouldn't know her. She's new—only been here for a few weeks.” Clyde pondered a moment. “New girl, eh? What does she look like?” “She—she’s beautiful—-the most beautiful girl you fellows ever saw!” Clyde and Hank raised one eyebrow apiece and turned around. “She’s tall and blond and beautiful,” Shorty raved on. “Smart, too. Even played in the movies a couple of times when she was in Hollywood last summer.” o ” n ue mm,” Clyde said good-ne-turedly. ‘Maybe I'll take her away from you.” “I love her,” the youngster stated bluntly. “Maybe I'll take her away from you anyway.” “Nope,” Shorty said seriously. “No one could do that.” He brightened and looked up. “I want you to meet her anyway. Clyde—gee, I hope you'll like her!” “Thanks—I hope the feeling will be mutual,” Clyde laughed. Shorty gulped and looked a bit frightened, as though he'd already said too much. Then he grinned and arose to go. “Well, see you men tonight.” When he was gone, homely, redfaced Hank turned to Clyde and shook his head. “That poor simp! He'd probably marry the girl if he thought you approved of her. Man, but he’s dumb! If he gives her a buildup like that to everyone, he won't even get one dance tonight.”

Mind Your

Manners”

EST your knowledge of correct social usage by answering the following questions, then checking against the authoritative answers below: 1. In addressing a business letter is it preferable to abbreviate words like street, ave=nue, boulevard in an address? 2. How wide should the margin be on business letters? 3. Should one write “thanking you in advance?” 4. Are faddish shoes proper for office wear? 5. Should a married woman in business sign her firm's let ters “(Mrs.) Ruth Ford Jackson” or “Mrs. Frederick Jackson?”

What would you do if— You were continually sneezing when in a room full of people— A. Say “I'm sorry” after each sneeze? B. Say to those near you, “I hope you will excuse my constant sneezing. I seem to be coming down with a cold.” C. Excuse yourself and leave the room. » o ”

Answers

1. No. 2. Rarely more than 2 nor less than 1 inch. 3. No. Thank a person after a favor is done. . No. 5. “(Mrs.) Ruth Ford Jackson” is preferable.

Best “What Would You Do” solution—C, if practical.

got to help. I'm sure he'll want to.

“Hmm,” Clyde said thoughtfully. “Hmm.” ” 2 ” HE annual Labor Day dance was in full swing by 10 o'clock that night. Clyde himself had wandered off somewhere, but Hank stood alone at the side of the crowded dance floor, smiling and nodding at acquaintances. Then suddenly his mouth was agape and his eyes bulging as Shorty danced by with a tall, state ly blond young woman in an electric blue evening gown. The orchestra rolled into a high ninth cord and the dance ended. Couples started to leave the floor and Hank signaled feverishly to Shorty. In a moment the youngster, leading the girl by the hand, came up to him. “June, may I present Hank— Hank Lewis?” Shorty said. Hank took one look at the girl and hoped, for Shorty’s sake, that those cool blue eyes wouldn't have the same devastating effect on Clyde that they were having on him. ” 4 s

OW do you do?” June said softly. “You're a friend of this—this Clyde, aren't you? I don't believe I've met him yet, though.” “No. No. Not yet,” Shorty said quickly. “Where is he, Hank? I'm

anxious for June to meet him.” “Huh?” Hank said, “Oh, Clyde? Yes, sure, just a minute. I'll go round him up.” He hastened away and found Clyde, immaculate in a cool white flannel suit, smoking idly with one of the orchestra men. Hurriedly he drew him aside. “Say, Shorty Dye’s here with that girl he was telling us about—and is she a dream! Hurry over; he wants you to meet her.” “Hmm,” Clyde said. “Hmm. “Yeah, but listen—the kid's crazy about her. So don’t get any ideas about taking her away from him.” Clyde flipped his cigaret out an open window and straightened his tie. “I can’t promise-—you know what I've always said.” They crossed the room to where Shorty and June were standing. “Miss—er—June, may I present Clyde Van Durben?” Hank said, and stepped back as though he had just lit the fuse on a charge of dynamite. » ” » LYDE bowed slightly and never took his eyes off the girl. “How do you do?” June said. “Shorty’s told me so much about you, Clyde.” “Really? He shouldn't have bored you, June.” It was a natural right off the mat—June and Clyde. She laughed. “Not at all.” There was a rustling at the other end of the room and the orchestra started to play. Clyde stepped forward and took June by the hand. “May I have this dance?” She smiled and they walked away, oblivious of the presence of either Hank or Shorty. Hank cursed Clyde under his breath, then laid a fraternal hand on Shorty’s shoulder. “Well, old-timer, I'm afraid that’s the last you'll see of her tonight.” "a » ” UT it wasn't the last Shorty was to see of June that night. It was two hours later and he and Hank were standing by the punchbowl when the girl hastened up to them. There was an ekcited look in her eyes and she was blushing just

leaning in the doorway, winking at Hank, but the latter only glared back and muttered “You-—Judas!” Now June was talking breathlessly. “Oh, Shorty, I know you won't mind, will you? You can find

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a bit. Across the room Clyde was:

OUT OUR WAY

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

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MONDAY, NOV. 15, 1987 FLAPPER FANNY

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“You'll get awfully tired standing up, Fanny.”

“What makes me tired

18 being stood up.”

—By Al Capp

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someone else to drive home, I suppose. Clyde and I are going for a ride.” Shorty nodded dumbly and June vanished almost as quickly as she had come upon them. When she and Clyde had gone out the door, Hank stirred uneasily, not wanting to see the hurt look that he knew would be in Shorty’s eyes. But finally the youngster spoke. “Come on, let's take a walk.”

HEY wandered outside and sat down in the moonlight on the broad veranda. Shorty rested his chin in his hands and stared off down the fairway. Hank cleared his throat loudly several times. “Love her, don't you, kid?” asked finally. “Oh, in a way.” Hank shook his head. “I didn't think Clyde would ever do that— but—well, you know he always said em" “eee That when the right girl came along, he'd marry her just like that!” Shorty snapped his fingers. He laughed-—almost heartily, Hank thought. “By the way, Shorty, what's June's last name?” “Dye.” “Dye?” Hank gasped. ‘Hey, you don’t mean she’s—you're her husband?” Shorty stood up. He was grinning broadly and he thumped himself on the chest. “No, my friend, but I'm the world’s greatest little matchmaker —she’s my sister!” THE END. (Copyright. 1937

SO THEY SAY

A 20th Century jurist who handles law as one in the 16th Century belongs in the cemetery.— President Manuel Quezon, Manila.

All these rumors about our romance breaking up make me darn mad.—Delphine Dodge Godde, heiress, commenting on her romance

COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE TAKES THE WITNESS

with Jack Doyle, prizefighter.

bors: We toduem yous coupe TT 122

ASK THE TIMES

Inclose a 3-cent stamp [for reply when addressing any question ot ract 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-—How many world's boxing championships did Mickey Walker hold? A~Two-—weltérweight and middleweight,

Q-—What is the source of the quotation, “I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty; I awoke, and found that life was Duty”? 3 A-Ellen Sturgis Hooper's “Beauty and Duty.”

Q—When were U. S. troops with=drawn from the Rhine after the World War?

A—They were formally withdrawn on Jan. 24, 19023. A few troops stayed after that date to wind up the last details.

Q—Can you give me some other names by which the Houses of Representatives in state legislatures are known? : A—Assembly in California, Nevada, New York and Wisconsin, House of Delegates in Maryland, Virginia, and West Virginia; General Assembly in New Jersey.

Q—Are there mammals? A—The only one known is the duckbilled platypus. On the heel of the male is a movable horny spur, perforated by a canal which communicates with a poison-gland.

Q—What monetary advantage is gained by taking out a patent? A—The monetary success of an invention does not depend primarily upon a patent, but upon the merit of the article itself. Without a patent, however, the inventor has no legal right to a monopoly

any poisonous

POLK’S BUTTERMILK :;

FINE PIECE O'GO0DS | YER RIGHT’ THERE MUST'VE COST YOU 7 AIN'T NOTHIN’ CHEAP

YOUR HEALTH

By Dr. Morris Fishbein American Medical Journal Editor HE common wart is a nuisance. Some people are much more troubled with them than are others. There are all sorts of strange delusions and notions about warts and

these have been found to exist among peoples all over the world. For instance, in a collection of superstitions in Adams County, Illinois, the following beliefs about warts were found to prevail: That a person who has a wart will be lucky or become wealthy, that a wart on the chin means a mean disposition. In fact, there is a couplet which says “A wart on the chin is a devil within.” There are innumerable beliefs in relationship to warts and toads. Thus it is said that if one holds a frog in the hand, one will acquire warts, or that if you kill a toad, your hands will be covered with warts. This, of course, is symbolic because the skin of the toad or the frog looks as if it were covered with warts, ® 8 =»

HERE are innumerable superstitions as to healing a wart. Most of these are superstitions in which one is supposed to rub the wart with something or other, murmuring some sort of a charm and then burying the material used tor rubbing the wart. The materials used for the rubbing of warts have been apples, bacon, baking soda, beans and most of the other vegetables. There are also symbolic notions relative to the removing of warts which involve drawing a mark around the wart, tying a hair

on his idea. It is through a patent that he profits from his invention.

Q—Who is the author of “Major Hoople?” A-—Originated by Gene Ahearn, the cartoon “Our Boarding House,” featuring the character known as “Major Hoople,” is now drawn by staff artists of Ahearn’s former employers, NEA Service, Inc., of Cleve-

land, O.

Cope. 1937 by United Peaturs Syndicate, Ine.

al]

“wand what's more, you good-fer-nothin’, if I win on that sweepstakes ticket I'm cutting you off without a penny.”

around the wart, and in association with this the murmuring of a magic charm. There are people who believe that rheumatism may be removed by wearing a ring or tying a string around the rheumatic joint. w » ¥

NOTHER series of superstitions involves the tying of knots in a string—as many knots as you have warts — murmuring a charm and then burying the string in a graveyard. All of these are symbolic notions

representing the idea of tying away the affected area, or transferring | the condition to something else which is buried. These ideas may give comfort, but there is no real

scientific proof that they have any value.

Without imagination a man would be no man, without faith he lacks

the incentive to make his dreams come true.~The Rev. R. T. Foust,

chaplain, U. 8. Military Academy,