Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 February 1938 — Page 16

PAGE 16

Foe Love

By RACHEL MACK

CAST OF CHARACTERS POLLY CHELSEY, heroine; stranded in Londen when war breaks out. JERRY WHITFIELD, hero; the Yankee who sees her through. CABELL BANKS, privateer captain,

Yesterday: Jerry and Banks arrive at Clitte’s cove and strangely they observe Clitte locking his cabin door after him!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

OLLY CHELSEY, locked away in the dreary cabin of the smuggler’s boat, was finding the choppy voyage almost unbearable. She was frightened and on the verge of being seasick. Moreover she was angry with fate for winning for her the unwelcome and dangerous attention of the smuggler. It was bad enough for him to discover her youth. But for him to suspect her of being a French aristocrat stealing home was worse. Polly, like everyone else, had heard those stories (unfortunately true) of “Bourbons” who had tried to slip back into France to recover money and jewels they had buried there before their escape. It was good sport for the rabble to catch these unfortunates in their rash and desperate efforts and seize the property themselves. This smuggler who was obviously of low French blood (mixed with evil Scotch) evidently thought he had caught just such a bird in his cage. Bad luck indeed for Polly. To Nuisance, lying on her feet, she cried out impatiently: “You're the cause of this, you hofrid little beast! But for your barking I'd not have lost my wig!” The little dog looked so shamed and hurt at her sharp voice and accusing face that she proke into a relenting laugh. “Poor Nuisance! You're only an ignorant little dog. I mustn’t blame you.” Her fingers absently scratched his grateful head while her thoughts went winging after her heart. “Jerry!” she murmured. “Jerry Whitfield! Were both in such a plight! I doubt we'll live to meet.” She. was accustomed row to the relief and joy of knowing he had not - deserted her, since all ecstasy has a way of becoming accepted Happiness, no longer to be wondered at. Jerry loved her, she knew, but this was no longer enough. She wanted to be physically near him, touching him, feeling his lips on hers, laughing and quarreling with him, plan- " ning for tomorrow. She wanted to - experience again the blessed protection of his big strong body at her side. In danger she had met him. In danger they had come together and discovered their love. How could she endure danger now without him? ® 8 8 " HE arose and tugged frantically at the unyielding cabin door, then walked to a porthole that gave, quite high, onto a portion of the deck. By climbing onto the smuggler’s sea chest she was able to look out.” Dawn was breaking, and she ‘could see the sailors like gray ghosts on a phantom ship. Then she was gripped in a wonder so intense that it weakened her. She clutched at the frame of the porthole to keep from falling while her eyes stared and strained through the dawn. . . Two men leaned against the lugger’s mast. One of them was short and slight and unknown. One of them was Jerry Whitfield. She called out to him, wildly, but her voice was lost in the rush of the wind and the slap of the canvas. Before she could form his name again he moved away, out of range of her vision. The slender man with him turned toward the porthole, stared for a moment and moved away after Jerry. He had not heard her voice, nor could he have seen anything at the dim porthole, but a woman’s face framed in disheveled hair, yet ~ Polly sensed in the very turn of his

o wiry body that he was momentarily

sr ho were gone now, as if they had never been, and Polly clung there while the dawn lifted, willing Jerry to return, fearful that she was delirious and had dreamed this

thing. Cabell Banks followed Jerry to Mind Your Manners

Test your knowledge of correct social usage by answering the following questions, then checking against the authoritative answers below: 1. Is it evidence of good breeding for a shopper to criticize everything the saleswoman shows her? 2. Is it good taste to wear conspicuous street clothes? ‘3. When sitting at a soda fountain in a drug store, is it necessary for a man to take off his hat? 4. Should a woman try to on a conversation with a friend while sitting under a dryer at a beauty parlor? : 5. Is it considerate to rush into a store or office just at closing time and expect the tlerk to work overtime? . What would you do if—

"You are an employee in a beauty parlor, store or office where a customer keeps leading the conversation into gossipy and confidential channels— : A. Answer briefly with “yes and “no” or say you don’t know? B. Say, “I'm sorry, we aren’t allowed to discuss such matters here”? C. Lead the customer on?

"Answers

Conversation then becomes a series of shouts! 5. No. :

Best “Wha t Would You Do”

leeward and they leaned against a bulkhead while they smoked a pipe of tobacco. Jerry said, “I've a feeling France is close. Just over there.” Cabell nodded. “We'll see land when the mist lifts.” After a long silence ht said, “There’s a woman on board this tub.” Jerry turned quickly to look at him. “How do you know?” “Saw her through a porthole. She’s in the cabin. Seemed to: belong there. Clitte’s woman, I presume.” They smoked for a few minutes and then Jerry said shortly: “Take me to where you saw her.” 2 #8 = TT face was still framed there, rather wildly, when they approached. Banks heard Jerry say, “God in Heaven! It’s Polly!” He saw the tense face at the cabin window turn into a thing of beauty and incredulous delight; and he knew he was present at a sort of miracle—the miracle of restoration and answered prayer. He walked a little apart and turned his back while he looked at the gray sea catching, the rising sun. He felt happy for his friend, and suddenly a little lonely. . . . Jerry was saying to Polly, “Let me in!” And Polly was answering, “I can’t, my darling, the door's locked. McGean has the key.” “Why are you locked ir, Polly?” “I came aboard as an old woman. I had on a gray wig, Jerry, and walked with a stick. . . . And look at these clothes! Aren't they too awful? Aren’t they hideous?” “Yes! Yes, Polly love! But why are you locked in?”- He spoke

frantically, for he saw she was not

thinking of danger, only of their amazing reunjon. “Tell me everything, Polly! Quick!” “Oh, yes. Well, Nuisance barked and I slapped him and lost my wig. And I looked up and there was that smuggler standing in the door, staring at me. He said, ‘So youre a young one, after all!’ ., , . Then he tied on a striped silk head scarf and said his name was Jean Clitte and that he was French, but not my kind. Tell me, Jerry,” Polly paused to giggle, “do I look like one of Marie Antoinette’s cousins?”

Fol

Jerry laughed, softly and ardently, but with uneasiness, too. “You look better than that to me.” She seemed so young and reckless standing there, her beautiful {features smudged childishly, her shorn hair curling about her face, her eyes shining. No wonder the smuggler had read adventure in Polly Chelsey’s face and wanted her for him-

self. : ." 8 #

of sight, Polly, and stay till we come back to you. I must make a plan. , . . That man over there is my friend. Cabell Banks from Boston. We escaped together from a British ship at Ramsgate—” He stopped, confused. “You knew I was taken by a press gang, Polly? . . You got that girl's letter?” 2 yes,” said Polly, “or I'd not be beaming at you now. I'd be hating you. I'm no angel of forgiveness. Remember, Jerry? You told me once I was nobody’s angel.” “There must have been days when you did hate me?” Jerry speculated. “Before you got the letter?” “There were. I can’t bear to think of them, I suffered so. I must say you were an awful fool, darling, to go out in the dark to help a pretty woman you didn’t know. , . . Could you reach up and kiss me now?” He could and did. Until Cabell Banks cleared his throat and sang out, “Land, ho!” and brought them to their senses. : Cabell came up to them then and Jerry introduced them to one another with ridiculous ceremony, considering the circumstances. Cabell remarked, “It seems to me I've heard of you somewhere, Miss Chelsey,” in his dryly comic way. “What did you hear?” Polly asked. “That I'm flighty and jealous? That I once spoke to a strange young man on the street?” Jerry said, “Get away out of sight now, Polly. There's no time to be bantering. We'll come back to you.” He saw that she considered all her troubles over, now that he had come. He must justify her faith.

(To Be Continued)

“(All events, names and characters in this story are wholly fictitious.)

Daily Short Story

SCOOP—BYy Elizabeth Buck

REDDIE was afraid for practically the first time in his life. It wasn’t fear of anything physical —just one of those creepy feelings that chase all other thoughts from a man’s mind temporarily. Besides, Freddie had done very well in holding up his end so far, covering this two-bit revolution, pushing himself and his heavy newsreel equipment into places that a less reckless man would have considered suicidal. What made Freddie afraid was the crumpled cablegram he still held in his hand as he strode purposefully down the war-littered street under the blazing South American sun, away from the empassy building. It got to him, someow. Freddie was thinking rapidly as he made for the hotel, or rather what was left of the hotel after the government troops and the insurgents had played tag all over the city for two months. Murdock, he knew, was one home-office man who never made idle statements. If he ordered Freddie to get his cans of film aboard a plane and to New York: as soon as possible he meant it. 8 ad 2

T was as simple as all that, Freddie thought bitterly. Everybody knew all about the big, decisive push that would in all probability end this ticklish war before foreign powers with big interests got too much interested in it. It might happen today or tomorrow. The only joker was that, if he failed to get his cans delivered ahead of his amiable colleagues from the other two newsreel outfits, he was through forever with Timely Pictures, Inc. And that meant an end to a promising career. Freddie did a lot of concentrated planning in the few hours that immediately followed his receipt of Murdock’s last cable. The best he was able to manage, however, was transport for his precious films— when and if he got them—to Colon, where one of the clippers would pick them up. Undoubtedly that was exactly what the other camera hounds would also do. He entered his hotel and made his way to the cocktail lounge. Moreno, from force of habit, was polishing the bar, or what was left of it. Moreno was always ready with a sympathetic ear. “Sure,” said Moreno, after Freddie had explained his trouble. “I think I can help you out.” He gave the bar another swipe with the dirty cloth. “My wife’s cousin—he’s one fine man—is a sailor on the Bolivar, and for a small sum he’ll take your pictures to the port when the Bolivar sails this afternoon with the refugees. Would you not have the jump on the other picture men, who don’t intend leaving till tomorrow?” Freddie admitted it was a good idea, so the arrangements were made. Up in his room, he whistled almost gaily as he carefully loaded his camera, overhauled his equipment and sat on the bed to smoke and await developments.

2, = 2 = scream and deafening wham of two shells in the street outside brought Freddie tumbling from his disordered bed shortly before dawn. Awake and tense, he waited for the arrival and explosion of two moré shells before he realized the significance of the “explosions. These were certainly not being shot from the old naval one pounders that had been the insurgents’ mainstay so far. They must have gotten artillery from somewhere!

he found the other men clustered around the coffee pot, which was simmering over the canned-heat

Sontaier, He listened, saying oth-

downstairs, fully equipped. ,

ing, while they, one by one, made plans for taking pidtures of the bombardment. Fools! His pictures would beat them by a whole day.

Evidently this was tos no ordinary battle. The constant whine of high-explosive shells overhead and their relentless, monotonous explosion was proof of that. The rebels had at last managed to get up-to-date war machinery for their big drive! Freddie stopped only for a last-minute word with Moreno before he left the dust-filled room in search of the pictures which would probably distinguish him as the only daring newsman brave enough to get real, spot action shots of - the battle. For two intensive, dangerous hours Freddie worked like mad to get a comprehensive and close-up pictorial record of the battle. Suddenly death winged close continually, but he disregarded personal danger. The pictures were the thing! He was on hand with his camera trained when the insurgent infantry broke through the gov-

ernment barricades, mopped up the |’

square and set fire to the capitol buildings.

From the dome of the deserted embassy building he got shots of the artillery on the not-too-distant hills, the burning city, the sporadic guerrilla fighting in the streets, the actually taking of the doomed capitol. His weary muscles actually seemed buoyant as he finally located Moreno on the river front and gave him the exposed rolls of films in their cans before he went back to complete’ his job. Murdock, he was more than certain, would get pictures the like of which he had never seen before! He had just focused the lens of his camera on the river when, above the roll of gunfire, a new sound made itself alarmingly evident.

»® # 8

ROM beyond the hills across the river streamed a flight of small efficient planes, their machine guns spitting fire along the river front. Behind them’ came three ponderous bombers, drumming their slow flight directly along the path of the river. He looked about him. Yes, his position was good. No other cameramen were about. They had evidently sought action in other parts of the city. Well, - he’d certainly have some pictures that they wouldn’t have. His right hand ground mechanically. The flashes drew nearer across

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. C. Legal and medical advice cannot be givens nor can extended research winders taken. : a ata

Q—What is a trade-mark? A—An arbitrary word or symbol actually used on articles of merchandise to indicate where they came from, that is, who makes them. A trade-mark which has been so used interstate or foreign commerce may be registered. in the Trade-Mark Division of the Patent Office, thereby preventing unauthorized duplication. : ;

Q—Is White River a Government stream? | A—The! White River of Indiana is navigable to Martinsville on the West Fork and to Rockford on the East Fork and is therefore under the Jurisdiction; of We Federal

Government.

ERRY said sternly, “Go away out

OUT OUR WAY

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the surface of the water and bright orange flames marked the slow. progress of the cumbersome bombers. For what seemed ' hours he focused and took pictures. And then, when the last of the planes Wad circled and disappeared back

IT WASN'T MY FAULT You WERE SO EAGER “© TAKE “THAT LAND BACK AND MAKE A MILLION !

there're no knotholes in them.”

—By Al Capp

By Raeburn Van Buren

over the hills, he packed his cam- | [#%:

cra and went back to the hotel. “You fellows certainly take the risks,” Moreno .greeted ‘him. “Imagine being out in a rumpus like that. [ imagine, though, it was fun, no?”

“No,” said Freddie, “not any more |

fun than it was for your wife’s brother. ' ‘I've just been taking pictures of the sinking of the Bolivar. (THE END) (All events, names and characters in this story are wholly fictitious.)

(Copyright, 1938, United Feature Snydicate)

YOUR HEALTH

By DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN American: Medical Journal Editor

OCTORS are prone to ascribe . many of the most serious conAnions that affect human beings today to the new type of strain and

stress that has come upon mankind |

with the machine age. For instance, the steady and persistent rise in diabetes, number of cases of nervous breakclown, ulcers of the stomach and the intestines, and the blocking of the blood vessels of the heart are conditions which are in various ways related to the new type of stress and strain. : Men particularly seem to be subject to ulcers of the stomach and the intestines, and there has been a- steady and definite rise in the number of deaths from this cause in the last 20 years. Strangely, the number of deaths in women from this cause seems to be steadily decreasing.. The number of deaths among white men is almost five times as great as the number among white women. Even though colored people do. not suffer as much with this disease as do the white, the number of deaths among colored men is twice as many as among colored women. Incidentally these ulcers appear most often in men between the ages of 30 and 50, although occasionally ‘they can be

found in people of all ages.

There are, of course, other con~

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“7 Jorgoi to tell you—these streambiners go through the tunnels in half the time!”

ditions associated with the causation of ulcers besides the nervous There has beén a wide increase in the amount of

ulcers of the stomach seen in Ger-

many and Russia since the World War and it is: the inclination to credit. this to the widespread depression, . fatigue, worry and low-

ered resistance rather than to the

fact that the diet includes largely coarse, rather indigestible and irritating food. In addition, however, to the fac-

son concerned, there seems to be the possibility of damage to the lining of the stomach either by a secretion that is too highly acid, a disturbance of the blood. supply or- an infectious ‘agent. Possibly all of these factors are necessary or perhaps a group of them working together beéfore an ulcer of the stomach or intestines will te

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tion for several years. Then’ ‘when

j the ulcer develops there is a pain

| prose oT who: devepp ules ot) ; the stom tors that are in the constitution | and character of living of the per-

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