THUNDER from j©
d n T STANDS
inc en t Richards^^O
CHAPTER VIII
Synopsis
Len Rollins, tennis ace,
dreamed of helping win th»
Davis Cap for America. Then
he fell in love with Grace
Worthington, but Grace
wouldn't marry a man who re
garded tennis as his life's work.
Len gave up his cherished am
bitions—partly because of his
love for Grace, partly because
of a bad injury to his ankle—
and they were married. But
when his recovery, was com
plete he determined to play
tennis again and won a place
on the Davis Cup team. Grace
and Len ha*" an automobile ac
cident just as he was to leave
for Europe. Len determined to
go—leaving Grace in the hos
pital as, he thought, on the
road to recovery. Swanstrom,
the non-playing captain, has
just told Len and Clark, an
other Cup player, that some
one would have to upset Lefevre
to bring back the Cup.
"Beat Lefevre! Now why riot
think up something hard," Clark
responded loosely. "You know
dam well Rollins here or,l can
take him any time we want to.
It's just that we've—"
A colored porter appeared, car
rying a cablegram. "Mr. Rollins,
suh?" Len took the envelope. He
stared unbelievingly at what he
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Herman Guyer
Barrett Lankford
read, the voices of Clark and
Swanstrom seemed miles away.
GRACE BEING OPERATED
UPON TODAY THOUGHT
YOU SHOULD B E AD
VISED EVEN AGAINST
HER WISHES
DAN WORTHINGTON
Being operated upon! Why,
why in the name of all that was
holy hadn't he stayed with her
instead of packing off to Europe
this way? But he hadn't known;
she had made it appear—the rec
ollection came, starkly vivid and
illuminating, of how she had
clung to him when she had kissed
him goodbye. She had known
then, but had concealed it from
him. She had sent him off to
Europe though she knew—
Clark's voice came to him
strong and clear. "Good news, I
hope, fella."
"No," Len replied dully, "not so
good. They're operating." He
turned and made his way to the
cable office, sent a wire asking
for more details. But no cable
jfrived until late the next even
ing.
GRACE PASSED CRISIS
COMFORTABLY DOCTORS
LOOK FORWARD TO
SPEEDY RECOVERY
DAN WORTHINGTON
Crisis! Then she must have
been pretty sick; people don't
have crises unless—why in the
name of heaven didn't the fools
tell him what it was all about?
Darn it all, he was her husband.
The bells tolled off the mid
night hour. The water was black;
the stars and sky cold; the flags
flapped dismally.
The day before the boat was to
dock another cablegram signed
by Dan Worthington arrived:
OFFER STILL STANDS
DON'T CONTEST DIVORCE
AND CHECK FOR FIFTY
THOUSAND IS YOURS
GRACE NEEDS CARE AND
COMFORT MORE THAN
EVER BEFORE AND RICH
ARD WHYTE STANDS
READY TO OFFER HER
THAT WHAT DO YOU
SAY?
Grace was through with him.
That last kiss then had been their
last. A Judas kiss, in a way. How
contemptible women were, how
deceitful! Why hadn't she been
honest about it? Why hadn't
she told him the truth about her
injuries? Why hadn't she told
him she wanted a divorce?
But perhaps it was all for the
best. With Richard Whyte she
would be given the opportunity of
returning to her old life, a life
she loved as profoundly as she
used to accuse him of loving his.
He took up a pencil and wrote on
a blue and white square of paper:
AM READY TO DO WHAT
EVER GRACE DESIRES
HER HEALTH AND HAPPI
NESS PARAMOUNT DONT
WANT CHECK
LEN
As he was debarking at Havre
the final message arrived. He
stared at it dumbly, hand trem
bling as porters scurried around
him.
AM ARRANGING DIVORCE
GRACE WRITING AM
SENDING CHECK CARE
DESMOND HOTEL LON
DON
DAN WORTHINGTON
It was all over, then. Well, he
would forget her and throw him
self into tournament playing. He
would beat Lefevre. Beat him or
die in the attempt. He would
practice long and diligently. He
was free now—entirely free—to
concentrate on making of him
self the greatest tennis player the
world had ever known. And beat
ing Lefevre would be the initial
step in attaining the height of his
ambition.
He could visualize the future.
First Wimbledon. Then Auteuil
where he would win the Davis
Cup for America. After Auteuil,
the National Doubles at Boston,
probably with Clark as his part
ner. Following the Doubles would
come the National Singles at
Forest Hills. At this, the na
tion's tennis event of the year, he
would prove conclusively that he
was no mere flash in the pan. He
would win the championship. The
newspapers would sing his praises,
compare him to the greats of
other days.
The Nationals over, he would
be invited to Newport to play in
the annual Fall tournament. A
telegram undoubtedly would be
forwarded to him from Berkeley
■ —Helen Wills' home town—invit
ing him to take part in the
tournament there. He would ac
cept, of course. He would play
not only in Berkeley, but all
along the Pacific coast San
Francisco, Los Angeles, Pasadena,
Balboa, Del Monte, Agua Caliente.
The South would call next.
While winter snows shrouded the
states above the Mason-Dixon
line he and perhaps Don Clark
and Wheatley would travel each
week to a different southern city.
In February they would play at
Havana, and from Havana catch
a boat to Bermuda. After Ber
muda there would be the usual
lull of a few short weeks to allow
them to rest a while. Then they
would plunge into intensive train
ing for the Davis cup team.
The check from Dan Worthing
ton he would return if it was sent
to him. That he had determined.
He'd show them he wasn't quite
as big a bum as they thought. He
didn't need money.
He chushed the cablegram into
a tight ball, walked to the rail
and threw it into the sea.
At the rail outside Clark's
cabin stood Frank Wheatley.
THE ELKIN TRIBUNE, ELKIN, NORTH CAROLINA
i "Hi, Rollins." His voice was
strange. He kept looking out
over the water.
"Nice," Len murmured.
"Yes," Wheatley said, "isn't it?
Sometimes it gets me."
"What?"
"The life we lead. Sometimes
I think of settling down and get
ting married."
Len stood silent, thinking.
"But what have I to offer a girl
besides a lot of useless cups and
medals? I've only a few tennis
years left, at best. But what
could I do if I gave it up? What
can I do when I finally have to
give it up? Sell insurance the
rest of my life? Maybe. But I
can't sell; I'm the world's worst
salesman. So what? If I was
lucky enough to find a job I'd
have to start where the high
school graduate starts, at the be
ginning. At thirty-two."
"That's not old," Len defended.
"You could turn pro."
"I wouldn't have a chance
against Tilden and Vines and that
gang. I'm only on the cup team
today, Roily, because King and
Reynolds turned pro. And I'm
not very colorful, you know. Not
like you with a smashing over
head and a screwball service. I'm
just one of those plodders who
got to the top by pulling pretty
hard at the boot-straps. But now
that I'm here, I wonder if it was
worth all the time and effort and
sacrifices. Where do I go from
here? When I'm all washed up,
I mean, Roily."
Len said: "I had two years of
the other life and I came back to
tennis. I didn't have to. I just
wanted to; I like it better."
"That's exactly the trouble,"
Wheatley replied. "You like it
better. I tell you, Rollins, it's like
a narcotic; when it gets you, you
can't break away."
Len shrugged.
"You're lucky, an exception,
Rollins. You have a wife who
helps you keep your balance, who
keeps you from letting the dope
get too strong a hold upon you.
You're managing to live two lives
at the same time. Few, if any of
the rest of us can do that. I'm
amazed that you can."
"Frank—"
"Yes?"
"Oh —never mind. It wasn't
important." No sense telling
Frank that he wasn't an excep
tion, that he hadn't been able to
live two lives either. They'd all
know soon enough. Everyone
would know.
♦ * ♦
The Stade Roland Garros lies
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score is announced through a
microphone to those in the
stands. At the opposite end of
the Stade is the runway leading
into the dressing rooms. The en
tire marquee is taken up by the
courts lined with white chalk and
rolled to the hard perfection of a
billiard table.
Now, from the stands at the
Stade Roland Garros, as Len Rol
lins gazed out across the marquee
to where Don Clark and Henri
Lefevre were warming up, came
a constant hum. Men and wo
men of many nations and from
all walks of life sat side by side
watching intently the two gleam
ing white-clad figures upon the
court, commenting, gesticulating,
praising.
Henri Lefevre was not the
greatest tennis player the world
had ever known, but he was cer
tainly the greatest volleyer. Un
tiring, quick on his feet, accurate,
and a remarkable recoverer, he
had reigned supreme for four
years. Against him a point was
never won until he failed to reach
the ball, which was seldom. What
appeared to be kill shots when
leaving the racquets of his oppon
ents were converted into points
for Lefevre by his uncanny abil
ity to get the ball and return it.
Clark seemed tense, but Len
knew that he would recover his
poise when the match was under
way. A stray ball came bounding
toward Clerk. He picked it up
and idly tossed it toward Lefevre.
The Frenchman nodded recogni
tion, smiled, showing white teeth.
They were ready to play at last
and Len turned toward the run
way. Swanstrom did not allow
later players to watch previous
matches. "Takes too much out of
you," was the captain's explana
tion.
In an hour or an hour and a
half, depending upon the bitter
ness of the struggle out there be
tween Clark and Lefevre, Len
would meet Letenour. If Clark
could possibly rise to the heights
and defeat Lefevre and if Len
could down Letenour, and then
Hughes and Wheatley could win
tomorrow . . .
But Clark did not defeat Le
fevre. The match was over in an
hour and ten minutes. Prance
had drawn first blood. Lefevre
was victorious, 6—4, 6 —3, 6—B,
6—3.
The racquet was light and airy
in Len's hand as he walked from
the clubhouse. He was conscious
of his white flannel coat with its
red, white and blue shield. It in
spired a certain ease, a confi
dence. He could tell from the
way he was hitting the ball while
warming up that the tall, well
built Letenour would have one
hell of a job trying to beat him
this afternoon.
At last they were ready. Stands
hushed, ball boys poised, referee
and linesmen perched forward in
their chairs. Then the high
sing-song voice of the referee
speaking French. But Len knew
what he was saying: "Second
match in the Davis Cup Singles.
Final Round. United States
versus France. Mr. Rollins versus
Mr. Letenour. Linesmen ready!
Players ready!"
Len nodded slightly, Letenour
made no motion.
"Play!"
(Continued Next Week)
NOTICE
Under and by virtue of the
power of sale contained in a cer
tain deed of trust executed on the
3rd day of June, 1936, by Paul
Eidson and wife, Jettie Hampton
Eidson, to Wm. M. Allen, Trustee,
recorded in Book 133, at page 62,
Office of the Register of Deeds,
Suriy County, North Carolina,
and default having been made in
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trust, and at the request of the
holder of the note and deed of
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F-W CHEVROLET
COMPANY
Elkin, N. C.
DON'T SA
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ber, 1940, at 2 o'clock P. M., offer
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highest bidder for cash, in front
of the Bank of Elkin, the follow
ing described property, to-wit:
Situated in the-City of Elkin,
County of Surry, State of North
Carolina, ai}d described as fol
lows, that Is to say: Beginning on
Front Street on the north side of
the Southern Railway Company
Right of Way and running East
H. P. Graham, Distributor, Elkin, N. C.
SNOOPS: "Why do you
wash your hands ao
many times?" r-j'BjJPf"| CJHWA
\ ' s irn P eratlve that we
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K 1 macista, we ate members
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Thursday, September 19, 1940
with said right of way 189 feet;
thence North at right angles
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the center of nnun and Alle
ghany Railroad tract; thence
West with J. s. Bell's line 189
feet to Front Street; thence
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to the beginning.
This the 26th day of August,
1940.'
WM. Vf. ALLEN,
9-19 Trustee.