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□ THE SUN, NEWBERRY, S. CU FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1937 Under Pressure By George Agnew Chamberlain • Oaorc* Acnaw < SYNOPSIS Joyce Sewell, on the eve of ber twentieth birthday, rebels at her lot, dependent on her detested stepmother, Irma, and full of tragic memories of ber mother's murder twelve years before and ber father's death six months ago. Irma calls In Helm Blackadder. an admirer, to help her persuade Joyce to marry rich, young Michael Kirkpatrick. Mike, sent up to Joyce by Irma and Black- adder, demands a showdown on his pro posal and is rejected. Reading her father’s papers, Joyce realizes that La Barranca, • Mexican hacienda which her father had owned, legally belongs to her. Later, she receives a letter enclosing a warrant on the United States Treasury for $10,000 compen sation for her mother's murder at La Bar ranca. She confers with Mr. Bradley, a banker and only remaining friend of her father's. She confides that she wants to make a secret Journey to Mexico. Bradley arranges all details for her. She departs by plane undetected. Dirk Van Suttart, second secretary of the American embassy In Mex ico City, gives Joyce a chilly reception and she loses her temper. She finds a Mexican woman lawyer. Margarlda Fonseca, who takes her to General Onelia. right-hand man to the Mexican minister of war. CHAPTER III—Continued “What’s it got to do with me?” “Exercise your memory. Gen eral,” said Margarida. “Who con fiscated La Barranca? Who holds it now?” “Dorado!” he cried. “Exactly.” “What do you suggest?” “General Dorado says he merely seized abandoned property. His ten ure is based on salvage. My sug gestion is that you arrange to have him abandon the hacienda in his turn.” “Nothing easier. I’ll have him shot the next time he shows his face in town. I’ve been wanting to do it for years.” “I’m afraid I’ve come at your siesta hour. Naturally General Dorado must not be killed before the abandoned hacienda is definitely in possession of the rightful owner.” “Ah!” exclaimed Onelia. “If General Dorado, who now holds La Barranca, should be killed —even if he should die a natural death—his heirs would inherit. They would have as good a case as he has now and our work would be all to do over again.” “Who wants the place? Not I.” Margarida looked at him stead fastly. “I wonder if you can see a picture if I hold it up before your eyes?” she inquired. “Try me,” said Onelia testily. “Here’s the picture, General, and that you’re not to appear in it at all goes without saying. Suppose some of your trustiest men attend to the eviction of Dorado without killing him—simply drive him and his following out and chase them into the hills. Simultaneously your men plant the girl and leave her. The incident gets in the papers, here and across the border. The girl is young, beautiful, has perfect title as titles go and the courage of a bobcat to back it with. Do you be gin to see anything?” “Of course I see her getting her self killed, and so do you." “Probably; but that’s a mere inci dent—perhaps a necessary incident. It doesn’t occur to you you might also see the ambassador from a country we both heartily detest up to his neck in boiling water and one or two of our own cabinet officers hanging to their toppling perches with nails and teeth? I used to think you had the brains of a great minister of war, but I’m beginning to doubt it.” During her long spsejh Onelia had been advancing toward her with a catlike tread. Now he placed a blunt finger under her chin, tipped back her head and stood looking down into her unflinching eyes. “You’ve started something,” he rumbled, “and we two are going to finish it. If I betray you, you can always get me shot at the market price, but if you betray me I’ll have you dragged by a frightened horse.” He stepped back, shrugged his shoulders and sat down. “Call in the girl.” When Joyce entered nothing could have exceeded Margarida’s compla cent air of accomplishment unless it was the General’s urbanity. “All you ask is to be put in pos session of La Barranca. Is that correct?” “Yes, General. 1 was happy there. I’ve never been happy since I left. The years of my childhood—” “One moment, senorita. Our plan contemplates presenting you with the hacienda and nothing more. It is a dangerous plan—extremely dan gerous to you, I mean. I don’t ex aggerate when I say the chances are ten to one you’ll meet your moth er’s fate. The scheme is to filter a sufficient number of men within the walls of La Barranca, pick a quar rel at a given signal and then drive out General Dorado who now holds the property. It is essential that you be on the spot to take immediate possession—on the spot, mind you. Do you agree?” “I do,” said Joyce. “But this General Dorado—he won’t be killed, will he?” “No, child, certainly not; I’m glad to reassure you on that point,” said Onelia unctuously. “The question now arises as to who shall be your personal escort.” He touched a bell and the door opened almost instantly. “Send Ser geant Buenaventura.” The soldier who presently entered the room immediately inspired Joyce with confidence. Loyalty was written in every line of his face. “Sit down, Pancho,” said Onelia; “this is a social gathering. Besides, you are now commencing a month’s furlough on full pay, accompanied by a detail of eighteen men. Never by any chance are you to report to me what happens dr-ring your ab sence. It won’t be necessary since I am about to tell you what you will do with every minute of your time.” He proceeded to give instructions so broad yet so complete to the last detail that Joyce was moved to ad miration. “Understand, Pancho,” he concluded, “the shot that kills General Dorado will surely kill you. Maim him if you like, but don't kill him.” “It is understood, mi General. When do we start?” "Today, if you like,” said Joyce. “If that’s impossible, then tomor row.” “It will take three days at least to place my men,” he stated. “They must be sent singly and in ad vance.” “Attend to it at once,” ordered Onelia. “As for you, hold your self in readiness and see you have ♦he icit of car which will attract Two Men Were Condescending to Pafk Their Guns With Their Hats. least attention. You may go.” As Sergeant Buenaventura left the room the general turned to Mar garida. “We have overlooked an impor tant point,” she said. “It is vital Dorado should be in residence; oth erwise we would be committing a mere trespass.” “Couldn’t I instruct Pancho to wait, in that case, until Dorado re turned?” “No; we’ve got to find out about Dorado and there’s only one sure source of information,” “Where? Who?” “Adan Arnaldo of El Tenebroso.” “Call that a source?” exploded Onelia. “Try to make it flow!” “That’s the trouble,” said Mar garida; “I couldn’t do it alone, nei ther could you. But the two of us— in casual conversation?” “What’s El Tenebroso?” asked Joyce, intrigued by their manner. “A resort, my dear,” said Marga rida. “A boite, what you would call a night club.” “Oh, please let me go too,” begged Joyce. It was odd the way their heads turned toward her as though moved by identical springs and equally strange that both faces should go through the same changes of ex pression. Their Latin eyes were seeing her at El Tenebroso. No girl of breeding could crash that door and keep her social standing, and whether anything happened to her or not had nothing to do with it. Of course Joyce was unaware of any such deadline, which only made it more amusing. “It might not be a bad idea,” re marked Margarida at last. “Not at all a bad idea,” agreed Onelia. “As s matter of fact, un less accompanied by both of you, I wouldn’t consider for a moment going myself. I’ll send my car to pick you up. Shall we say at mid night?” “Too early by at least an hour,” said Margarida. “Make it one o’clock.” CHAPTER IV El Tenebroso occupied a triangle at the intersection of a side street with the Calzada Manuel Villalon- gin. A string of private rooms com prised its longer flank but on the shorter side ^here was a re pec ta ble entrance leading directly to the restaurant and dance floor. The room was fan-shaped and fairly large. The orchestra was placed in the stem of the fan which put the master of ceremonies, the highly popular Adan Arnaldo, at a distinct advantage since he could watch the entire assemblage without having to worry about anything behind his back. The tables were in two banks, one at the level of the floor, the other raised and hugging the slant of the walls. The wide outer fringe of the fan was given over to stage entrance, hallway, cloak room, cooking and service departments. General Onelia met Joyce and Margarida in the foyer. He was dressed in mufti and when Marga rida, divesting herself of an ulster like overcoat, displayed a dark tai lored suit, Joyce felt a qualm as to her own lovely semi-evening dress. But immediately her atten tion was seized by something else; at a murmured request from the check-room girl two men were con descending to park their guns with their hats. Margarida cast a hur ried and curious glance at Joyce’s face but found she need not worry— Joyce was given a seat with her back to the wall. Sensing the con centrated stare upon her she was troubled and looked around anxious ly. It must be her clothes. But to her relief she saw a few people on the dance floor in evening dress and then discovered a party of men against the opposite wall, all of whom were togged out in the full regalia of tails and White ties. She wondered about them, perceiving at once they were onlookers rather than participants. Evidently they had come to watch the fun, per haps in an effort to forget the bore dom of some diplomatic function. At the thought she examined them more carefully and suddenly found herself gazing at long range into the eyes of Dirk Van Suttart. She looked away at once, making no sign of recognition, but not before she had caught the rapid change of expression in his face. In an in stant it had passed from surprise to wonder and from wonder to dis may tinged with aversion. He was profoundly shocked. A flush of anger stained her cheeks but at that moment Adan Arnaldo came to Onelia’s table to do homage to authority. He was a handsome young man and lacked the sleek look which usually dis tinguishes the master of ceremonies of such a boute as El Tenebroso. His manner, «s he greeted Marga rida whom he knew, declared him a substantial partner as well. Ack nowledging an introduction to Joyce, he took her hand but without removing his eyes from the gen eral’s face. “Well, Adan,” said the general, “I don’t have to ask you how things are going. Jam-packed as usual.” “Not so bad,” admitted Arnaldo. “The genius of this place,” re marked Margarida, “consists in it*, diversity There’s one clientele at midnight, another at two and a third at four in the morning.” “Yes,” said Arnaldo, “and if we could close at one o’clock I’d be poorer but a lot happier.” He glanced at Onelia. “It’s a long time since you’ve honored me." “Quite true, but I’m a busy man and I’ve taken to going to bed. I suppose the old habitues are still on the job? I haven’t seen Castel- lito, Diego Borda, Vasconcellos, General Dorado or Panchito Iroyo- gen since I came here last. That about covers the list, doesn’t it?” “General,” said Arnaldo laugh ingly, “I compliment you on your memory.” “So? How could I forget any of that flock of flamingos?” “No, no, not that,” corrected Ar naldo. “You remembered not to mention a single one of the dead!” Margarida laughed. “You’re wor ried, Adan. Who’s on the rampage nowadays? Are you expecting Do rado or is it only Castellito?” Ar naldo did not answer. “Tell me,” she persisted. “Who is the cause tonight of that little crease of worry on your brow?” "General Onelia,” said Arnaldo as he rose to resume his duties. Onelia sccwled at the ambiguous distinction. Compliment, insult, threat or warning—he could take his choice. He sat in a moody si lence, paying no attention to his guests. Smoldering inside him was dull rage at Arnaldo. What had he meant? He knew of the long standing Onelia-Dorado feud—ev erybody did. Had he guessed at once that he and Margarida were after information as to Dorado’s whereabouts and plans? In spite of her hosts’ neglect Joyce was not bored. She sipped her wine spar ingly and let her eyes wander. Abruptly she sensed Onelia had gone tense in every muscle and fol lowing the direction of his gaze she saw an individual in uniform, ac companied by two bodyguards, erupt from a slight commotion in the entrance hall on her left. Never before had she seen a visage so striking, so individual, so different from the ordinary conception of a human face. Jet-black hair, close* cropped, came down in a sharp peak to within an inch of heavy eyebrows and where cheekbones should have protruded there were indentations, causing the massive blue-black jaw, divided midway by the gash of full red lips, to appear to slant outward. Feeling her eyes upon him the man stopped, stared, smiled and saluted gaily. He was drunk and as he staggered toward the table hurriedly being placed for him at the edge of the dance floor, Arnaldo darted forward, apparently to greet him. But he took up his stand in a direct line between Onelia and the new arrival. Joyce leaned toward Margarida. “Who is that man,” she whispered, “the officer who just came in? 1 ? “General Dorado,” murmured Margarida almost inaudibly. Arnaldo, chatting cheerfully with Dorado, took out a cigarette and tamped it on his wrist. At the third tap the orchestra began to pack up its instruments and one of the four tiers of lights went out. Adan did his best to hold the atten tion of the recent arrival but when a second bank of lights was extin guished Dorado awoke to realiza tion of what was intended. An odd hush fell on the room, accompa nied by an electric air of expec tancy. It was real, something even the uninitiated could feel, and Joyce’s knees began to tremble from excitement. Her evening bag slipped from her lap. She leaned over quickly to pick it up and to her consternation caught the glint of a service revolver clapped against Oneiia’s thigh. Her first im pression was that it was quite still but as she rose she realized its muzzle had been moving slowly up ward. Then she heard Margarida whis per to him hoarsely: “Don’t be a fool or you’ll spoil everything. Leave it to Adan and nothing will happen—nothing! ” At that instant Dorado raised his own gun aloft, butt end down, and crashed it on the table so violently that plates, knives and forks went flying. “Musical" he roared. He pointed uncertainly at Joyce with a wagging forefinger, then waved it to include every woman in the room. “Musical” (TO BE CONTINUED) Domestication of Horse Is Traced Back Additional Thousand Years to 3000 B. C. The history of the domestication of the horse has recently been traced back an additional thousand years, says Field Museum News, Chicago. Previously it had been thought that the horse was intro duced into Babylonia by the Kas- sites during the early portion of the second millennium B. C. However, the Early Dynastic I (circa 3000- 2800 B. C.) tombs at Kish, excavat ed by the Field museum-Oxford uni versity joint expedition to Mesopo tamia, yielded animal bones some of which have now been identified by Prof. Wolfgang Amschler, of the College of Agriculture, Vienna, as those of the domesticated horse (equus caballus). These horses were larger than the Arabian horse of today, standing 15 hands 3 inches at the withers. These skeletal remains of horses were found hitched to chariots as the animals had fallen, after being slaughtered in the tombs of their masters to provide transportation in the afterworld. The bronze harness trappings and portions of the char iots were well preserved, and it is possible to reconstruct the pictures — from scenes on seals and plaques found at Kish and other sites. Thus far, no Sumerian word for horse is recognizable, and it was thought that only the donkey was referred to in texts of this period. Now, with the realization that the horse was used at that time, it may be possible to identify some de scriptive form of ass with the word for horse, as was done in Old Baby lonia where the horse is known as the “ass from the.mountains." The earliest Egyptian records show that the Hyksos (circa 1700 B. C.)—the “Shepherd Kings” — brought the horse into the Nile valley. Founded Benedictine Order The Benedictine order was found ed by St. Benedict about 529. It was at first intended to be only a philosophy of life, but within its first century the order was formed. The Benedictines, famous for their man ufacture of a liqueur, were the sa viors of Christian art in western Europe. At St. Ottilien, says the Digest, their vows of industry have taken them from crude handwork to highly mechanized production. AROUND th. 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