PAGE SIX
[CONVICT'S-C'AUGHTER
j/m \Jr~Cr £y^
WHITTEN FOR AND RELEASED * fe' D I ITU DAV KA N F
BY CENTRAL PRESS ASSOCIATION 7 ~~T.» IX UI rl T rXn ~ t ~ /■*
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ~
WHILE JIM was entertaining
the party with his cowboy songs,
Lona stayed beside Dinah, content
to look on rather than to be part
of the fun. She and Dinah were
whispering together, smiling at the
antics of Bobby Graves and the
Jones boy, when the delinquent
Pinky Malone appeared.
Pinky was a short, fat young
man with a neck that fell in folds
over his collar, and a girl’s com
plexion—probably the origin of his
nickname. He struck an attitude at
the sight of Jim lolling on the
piano bench and strode across the
room with a scowl, bringing his
light brows almost together.
“Ha! A rival!’’ he complained,
and then the humor died from his
eyes and gave way to a puzzled
look as Jim was introduced.
“Haven’t I seen you before?” he
asked, and a general laugh went
up.
“You’re supposed to use that one
on his wife,” Alice Davis told him.
“Come on over here and tell Lona
you’ve seen her somewhere be
fore.” She dragged him over to
Lona’s chair, leaning her tall bulk
on his chubby shoulder ludicrously.
“I meant what I said of your
husband,” he told Lona when he
had greeted her. He was evidently
still mulling something over in his
mind, and pausing besidefljher his
eyes went back to Jim speculative
ly. “There is something familiar —
wait a minute! I’ve got it! Where
does your husband work?”
“On the new bridge,” Lona told
him. “We’ve only been in town a
few days. Perhaps you’ve seen
him—” **
“He’s a structural iron worker?”
“Yes. But why?” Lona stared at
him curiously. Across the room the
rest of them were pressing Jim for
more songs, and Pinky leaned to
ward her and lowered his voice.
"There was a fellow showed me
a picture of him today,” he said.
“A picture!”
“Yes. It was cut from a news
paper. No writing or nothing be
neath it, just a picture. Has he
figured in the news lately?”
“No.” An icy hand clutched at
Lona’s heart, as she recalled those
damning headlines of —was it only
a week ago? She couldn’t have
these people finding out about her!
It would be too cruel.
“It must have been someone who
looked like him,” she offered.
“A man came into the store—
I’m in the clothing business on
Main street, you know. He said
he was looking for a fellow. He’d
clipped his picture out of a paper
and he showed it to me. I could
swear it was Mr. Bennett over
there.” He was staring at Jim
again.
“He said the man he was hunt
ing was liable to be working as an
Iron worker,” he went on. It’s
certainly a—coincidence.”
“I’ll have to tell Jim he has a
double.” Lona tried to pass it off
lightly. But beneath her smile her
mind was in a turmoil. A ♦eport-1
er! He had followed them here. A I
At Fourth Round of Labor Peace Parley
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ywkln°itt/ m trtI i ?rftf e ?T t *°V£ Labor co ” fer dDrin S fo “ rth meeting with C. I. 0. leaders, in New
eure from RZLth l iff r? 3 ' B “‘ h , sides were silent on all proposals and renewed pres
r ?°w V , to right, Matthew Woll, Photo Engravers’ Union: T. A. Rickert United
aiment Workers; Daniel J. Tobin, Teamsters’ Union, and Harry C. Bates, Bricklayers’ Union.
As Hider Announced a "Bloodless” Victory
First German ruler of Bohemia since Charlemagne, Hitler sped by special train behind thousands of
heavily armed Nazi troops to Prague, to announce the third of Germany’s “wars without a shot.” The
Fuehrer is shown in a recent picture addressing his troops. (Central Press).
sudden weariness came over her at
the thought. Just when she was
beginning to live again. It wasn’t
fair! It wasn’t just. It was perse
cution. i
She wanted at once to escape
from the laughing crowd she had
enjoyed so much only a few min
utes ago. But,'conscious of Pinky’s
inquiring eyes still on her, she had
to smile and play up.
Jim had left the piano now and
they were calling for Pinky.
Strutting importantly, he sat down
and began grinding out a dance
tune. Couples began circling the
floor, and Jim came to her and
claimed her with quiet happiness
in his smile.
She smiled back at him as they
danced together, resolving to tell
him nothing of her new fears. He
seemed so contented, she didn’t
have the heart to upset him. She’d
wait until tomorrow, she decided,
and after he’d gone to work she’d
go down town herself and hunt out
this reporter if he was still hang
ing around. She’d appeal to him
and tell him her story. Surely he’d
be kind to her. She’d make him see,
somehow, that she was entitled to
her privacy now, that she had suf
fered enough.
# * $
“Have a good time last night?”
Jim asked her, as he kissed her
goodby beside the breakfast table
next morning. “You seem sort of
quiet.”
“I’m tired,* she laughed. “Guess
I can’t take it. I’m not used to
parties, you.know.”
“We’ll have that gang over here
some time soon. Would you like
that ?”
“Oh, could we, Jim? I’d love it!”
She brightened.
“Os course we can. What’s a
home for if not for parties?” He
indicated the three cozy rooms with
a sweep of his arm, then laughed
self-consciously. “Home! Sounds
sort of —funny, doesn’t it ? For you
and me, I mean.”
“It sounds grand,” Lona told
him, as she kissed him again, and
started him for the door. “You’ll
be late,” she chided with such an
anxious frown that he laughed and
came back to kiss her for the third
time.
When he had gone she sat for a
moment at the disordered table.
She must get down town early, she
thought, wearily, before that re
porter had a chance to get to Jim
at the bridge. He’d probably wait
for him at lunch time.
Swiftly she began cleaning up
the kitchen, and putting the tiny
apartment in order for the day.
When she had finished, she dressed
herself in her wedding gown
again, and arranged her hair care
fully. She must make a good im
pression. So much depended upon
it!
It was only nine o'clock when she
turned the key in the hall door and
slipped it into her purse. She
walked softly, so as not to disturb
Dinah, but the girl was already
ensconced in her chair at the liv
ing room windows.
“Going out?” she called in her
HENDERSON, (N. C.) DAILY DISPATCH MONDAY, MARCH 20, 1929
melodious voice, and Lona tossed
her a casual, “Only down town
shopping.” She hurried on without
going into the room to chat with
her. Somehow, she didn’t want to
talk, even to Dinah.
Downtown she found Pinky Ma
lone arranging a display of cra
vats in the front room of his cloth
ing store in readiness for the day’s
trade. She hated to call his atten
tion to the stranger she wanted to
meet by asking about him again,
but she had no other way.
Pinky stared at her when she
told him what she wanted. “Funny
thing, that,” he observed. “The
more I think about it, the more I’m
sure it was Mr. Bennett in that
picture. Do you suppose that guy
could be a —a detective, or some
thing like that?”
“A detective!” Lona laughed:
“Os course not. He’s probably some
friend of ours from back in the
city. Jim’s rather careless about
leaving a forwarding address. He
seems to think his friends should
be able to find him by instinct
every time he moves. I’m afraid
it’s somebody we know and should
see. That’s why I’d like to know
how to get in touch with him.” Her
words came rushing out, somehow.
“You don’t suppose he’s left town,
do you?”
“He said yesterday he was going
over to the hotel.” Pinky was still
eyeing her thoughtfully. “He may
still be there.”
“The hotel. Thank you so much.
I’ll go straight over and try to
raise him.”
He insisted upon ushering her
ceremoniously to the door and she
Could feel his eyes on her curiously
as she crossed through the Main
street traffic to the hotel entrance
on the other side of the street.
Conscious that she was being
measured, she tried to walk jaunt
ily, but her knees felt wobbly. In
the last few weeks she had learned
such a dread of reporters. It
seemed odd to be walking up to one
voluntarily.
There was a stranger by the
name of Jack Price registered in
Room 808. So the slow-voiced clerk
told her. Yes, he had come in yes
terday. Was he in now, Lona heard
herself asking, her heart beating
fast. He was sleeping, the clerk in
formed her, looking down his nose
at her as if he disapproved of
young women who inquired after
men guests. He had left orders not
to be called until ten-thirty. Feel
ing like a criminal with a reprieve,
Lona went out into the street
again, prepared to spend the next
hour window shopping.
By the time the quaint town
town clock had pealed out two of
its half-hourly warnings, she had
calmed down a little. In this slow
moving, friendly town it wouldn’t
be possible to be really unhappy,
she felt, with a sudden glow of
confidence. Even a persistent re
porter ceased to be a menace.
When she went back to the hotel
her step was quicker, more as
sured.
(To Be Continued)
CONVIGT^MUGHTER
WRITTEN FOR AND RELEASED SY^
BY CENTRAL PRESS ASSOCIATION /JtW* RUTH RAV KANE J
yslel . r
CHAPTER 30
THE MAN called Jack Price had
cheeked out. So the clerk told Lona
the second time she called at the
hotel hoping to see him. Just five
minutes ago. No, he hadn’t said
where he going. To the rail
road station, probably. Leaving
town. The eyes the clerk bent on
Bona were faintly scornful as if he
resented her curiosity about one
of his guests.
Lona smiled to herself as she
went back out on the street for the
second time that morning, and
headed for the city market to pick
up her groceries for the day. Fate
must be taking care of her, she
thought, gratefully. If she had
actually talked with the fellow per
haps he wouldn’t have gone away.
As it was, she had been worrying
about nothing. She was glad she
hadn’t bothered Jim about it, she
thought, as she prolonged the mo
mentous decision between steak
with mushrooms, or chops with
dressing, just for the pure enjoy
ment she got from wavering.
She decided, finally, on the chops,
and went on up Main street feeling
very housewifely and conscious of
the package under her arm.
* * *
She had no presentiment of what
was to come as she set the dinner
table that evening in readiness for
Jim’s return from work. Looking
back, later, she wondered how she
could possibly have been so happy,
so unbelievably happy.
The chops were neatly breaded,
waiting to be popped into the pan,
and she was arranging a bunch of
velvety red asters from the Morris
garden in a round blue bowl for
the table center piece, when the
creak of Dinah’s chair sounded in
the hall outside.
“Busy?” the girl sang out, and
there was an odd hesitancy in her
voice. She sipiled almost apologeti
cally as Lona helped her through
the door and into the room.
“There’s something I—ought to
tell you,” she began, evidently em
barrassed. “I don’t want you to
think I’m prying into your affairs,
but there was a —a man here a few
minutes ago. He was asking about
you.”
"A man! Asking about me?”
Lona’s heart sank. “Was he —was
he a reporter?” she brought out.
“A reporter?” Dinah sounded
suruprised. “I don’t think so. He
was hunting a man by the name of
Rankin. He seemed to think that
might be Jim’s name.”
“Rankin?” Lona shook her head.
“I’ve never heard that name. What
made him think that Jim—” She
broke off, her eyes searching the
bright face before her. “Did he
have a picture cut from a newspa
per?” she asked, tensely.
Dinah nodded. “It looked like
Jim, too, Lona,” she admitted, un
happily. “I told him your name
was Bennett and that—that I was
sure it wasn’t Jim in the picture.
It looked a lot younger than Jim.”
“Younger?” Relief took hold of
Lona. “Oh, then it couldn’t have
been Jim. It’s some mistake. The
only picture I know of was taken
lately. When we were married, and
I was in it, too.”
“But it was Jim, Lona!” Dinah
looked troubled. “I could have
sworn it. And the man was a de
tective!”
“A detective?”
“Yes. He left this card. He said
he was going to the bridge to get
a look at Jim when he leaves work.
He’s been called back to Chicago,
he said, but he wants to see Jim
before he leaves. He wouldn’t say
why he was looking for this—Ran
kin man.”
For a moment Lona stared down
at the piece of cardboard Dinah
had thrust into her hand. “Jack
Price, Western Detective Agency,”
it read, and a feeling that some
thing had gone wrong possessed
her. w Something besides her own
fear of reporters. A detective! No
newspaper hunting copy would
work throiigh a detective agency.
Could it be that Jim —after all, she
knew so little about him. Conscious
of Dinah’s eyes following her every
mdve, she put the card into her
apron pocket nonchalantly.
“Thanks for telling me, Dinah,”
she brought out, and removing her
apron, casually reached for her
coat. “It’s nothing to get hot and
bothered about. Just some nis
take in identity.
She smiled as she pulled her hat
down over her curls. “I have for
gotten the cream for the salad.”
In Mexican Contest
m / ;fe: v
General Joaquin Amaro (above),
former Mexican secretary of war
and navy, is regarded* as a likely
candidate for the presidency, with
the support of the anti-administra
tion anti-Communist revolutionary
party, recently organized.
'Central Press)
“But it was Jim, LonaP uinah looked troubiedo
she told Dinah, lightly. “Would you
mind waiting while I run down to
the corner grocery? Jim hates
salad dressing without whipped
cream. I’ll only be a minute.”
“I have my own supper to get,”
Dinah reminded her, turning her
chair with expert hands. “I must
be going. I just thought I’d run
over and tell you about—that man.
He —I didn’t like him, Lona. He
asked so many questions, about
where you came from, and about
Jim’s work.”
“Don’t let it worry you,” Lona
reassured her again. “It’s quite an
adventure, really. Imagine a real
live detective in your own parlor!
Wish I’d been here.” She managed
to laugh as she lifted the clicking
chair over the Morriss threshold,
and Dinah laughed, too.
“He didn’t look much like a de
tective,” she complained. “He
wasn’t fat and he didn’t chew a
cigar. He was a disappointment.”
She laughed again, and her spirits
seemed destored.
Once outside the house, away
from the probing of the shining
blue eyes, Lona’s smile died quick
ly, and she set off downtown al
most at a rim. It had come to her
as she held that card in her hand
and listened to Dinah’s stumbling
account of the man’s visit, that Jim
ought to be warned. Why, she did
not know. Surely there must be
some mistake, she told herself, as
she went down through town to
ward the bridge where Jim and the
rest of his crew were waiting for
the closing whistle. The man
couldn’t be hunting for Jim. It was
someone else; someone, who resem
bled him. That often happened.
And yet . . .
Her feet quickened of their own
accord as she followed her shadow
down toward the river which lay
broad and glistening in the late aft
ernoon sun. She had not yet been
down to the bridge when Jim was
working, and as she came within
sight of the towering span she won
dered how she was to find him and
keep him out of sight of the prying
eyes that even now might be
watching.
Halting for a moment on the old
bridge that was to be abandoned
when the new was completed, she
stood looking out at the shining
new structure in dismay. Squint
ing, she made out figures like run
ning ants, busy on the girders high
in the air above the swirling water.
Mingled with the noise of the driv
ers and the busy shouts
rose now and then and, standing
on tip-toe, her hands in her pock
ets, the wind from the river tum
bling her hair about her face, she
scanned the laboring figures one by.
one, her heart beating fast. She
had never realized before how dan
gerous this work was, how spidery
the framework of a new bridge, nor
how great its height above the
black waters.
She had to stand there almost
five minutes before she located Jim
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Bette Davis, blonde screen beauty, is seen with George Brent, Hollywood
actor, in a recent photo. As soon as Bette receives final divorce decree
from orchestra leader Harmon Nelson, she will wed Brent,
to luc sister, Mrs. Kathleen Watson. (Central Preen)
It was the gay plaid of his siui i,
about which .she had so often,
teased him, which centered her at«
tention upon him finally. Its bright
colors flashed suddenly from th*,
highest span, and she * saw him
standing with his strong figure out®
lined against the windy sky. At
almost the same moment h®
seemed to see her, for he waved
her nonchalantly from bis uncer
tain foothold and her heart
jumped. “Jim, be careful!” sha
yelled out, heedless that her puny
voice could not carry more than &
few feet.
As if that cry were a signal, a
sudden, dismayed shout went up
from the working men beneath
Jim. A shout that was choked oft
into tense silence. Turning, she saw
that a new girder was being swung
into place. Riding it, as it swayed
in the air, was the tiny figure of a
man, clinging precariously. Even
as her eyes caught his black sil
houette against the skyline, the
figure slipped, with the turning of
the girder. Slipped sidewise and
down. The man was left hanging
by one hand, his body dangling in
the air.
“He’s gonna fall!” somebody
yelled hoarsely, as the figure
scrambled to get the other hand
back on the slippery iron.
For what seemed an eternity he
hung there, the girder swerving
on the end of its cable, his body
swinging with it like a human pen
dulum. Fascinated, Lona watched,
unable to tear her eyes away. Do
something! Why doesn’t somebody
do something, she prayed. Slowly
the giant crane swung the girder
nearer and nearer its destination,
the human fly still clinging. It
would reach the perch where Jim
was waiting, Lona saw, and her
clenched fingers cut into her palms
as she watched. Would Jim be
able?
A groan went up as the swaying
girder came to a stop with a jerk
that almost dislodged its rider. By
what seemed a miracle he man
aged to hang on. He was now near
enough for Jim to touch. Tensely,
in a silence punctuated only by the
breathing of the giant engines, Jim
slid over until he was opposite the
clinging man. Gripping his own
girder with knees and ankles
hooked about it, he freed his hands
and reached out. He caught at the
other’s swaying body and heaved.
For a moment it seemed both
would fall, then a cheer went up as
the man transferred his hold and
slid to a sitting position opposite
Jim. f Do
lt was a cheer that choked itself
off into a horrified silence in mid
air. For Jim, unbalanced by the
sudden weight of the was
saving, swayed for a moment, tried
desperately to scramble back to se
curity, went plunging with an
astounding ease, straight through
the skeleton of iron to the swirling
waters below.
j! j ((To:Be, Continued)
L‘ - j'.* I],', iVii.M , i .tell
Czech Fuehrer
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Following resignation of the Czech
cabinet, General Radula Gajda
(above), fascist leader, was named
Fuehrer of the Czech people. First
proclamation announced formation
of a “Czech National. Committee.”
Kales Prague
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General Von Gablenz (above), one
of the German troop commanders
who marched into Prague as Hitler
continued his push to the East, has
been appointed military governor
of the capital city of what was the
Republic of Czecho-Slovakia.
(Central Press)
In Line for Throne
t
I- ‘
No crystal gazer can predict with
any accuracy the destiny of this
child. He is Prince Victor Emanuel,
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Rear Admiral Harold R- Stark
(above) commander of cruisers,
U. S. fleet battle force, is sla- ed
become new chief of naval opera
tionsOwhen Admiral William b.
Leahy retires this summer. Stai ,
69, was jumped over the heads o
ten in move seen as an effort
place younger blood in the N» v y
a * key positions.