Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

One for the Judge Policeman (to motorist)—Take it easy; don’t you see that notice, “Slov. Down H^re”? Mr'iorist—Yes, officer, but I thought it was describing your vil lage.—Safe Drivers. Oil War “So and your neighbor are not on speaking terms?” “No, all diplomatic relations have been suspended.” “How did it happen?” “A while back my neighbor sent me a can of oil to use on my lawn- mower when I started to cut the grass at 6 a. m.” “What did you do about it?” “I sent it back and told him to use it on his wife when she started to sing at 11 p. m.” SO TO SPEAK Friend—How is the help here in your laundry? Manager—Oh, I manage to wring service enough out of ’em for my pressing needs. Didn’t Impress Him A doctor said to his daughter: “Did you tell the young man that I think he’s no good?” “Yes. He said it wasn’t the first wrong diagnosis you had made.” Nothing gives a girl more nat ural charm than a graceful car riage, says a beauty authority. But for a boy to have charm he needs a sporty coupe. Needs a Trimming Rastus—Doan you start no fight with me, man. Ah was decorated for bravery in de World war. Sambo—Maybe yo wuz, but in mah ’pinion it’s given yo sech a swell haid yo is ’bout ripe to be redecorated. GENERAL 0 ELECTRIC Ends Dialing—Brings In Your Programs Automatically! Under Pressure By Geoirge Agnew Chamberlain • George Agnew Chamberlain WNU Service The Newest in Miniature SYNOPSIS Joyce Sewell, on the eve of her twentieth birthday, rebels at her lot, dependent on her detested stepmother, Irma, and full of tragic memories of her mother’s murder twelve years before and her 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, a 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, Margarida Fonseca, who takes her to General Onella, right-hand man to the Mexican minister of war. Margarida reminds Onelia that the usurper of La Bar ranca Is his dangerous enemy. General Dorado. The two make plans to send Joyce with a few picked men under Pancho Buenaventura to drive Dorado out. Adan Araaldo, a young man who runs El Tene- brooo, a night club, »knows Dorado’s pres ent whereabouts, so they take Joyce there that night, where she notices Dirk. Gen eral Dorado arrives. CHAPTER IV—Continued Amaldo’s strong hands darted out to seize the barrel of the gun and hold it pointed upward. The last of the lights were extinguished and with darkness came uproar. Five shots rang out in a steady spurt, tables were overturned, dishes crashed, women screamed, men groaned and grunted. Joyce sat quite still, pressing back as if to push herself through the wall. Soon she reached out her right hand tentatively; General Onelia was gone. She pushed her left along the seat. It was empty—Margarida was gone. At that instant a fumbling hand found her shoulder, shot down along her arm and seized her wrist. She felt herself being hauled along the wall by someone who seemed sure of his way. Who was it and why? Was it Onelia, Van Suttart or—or Dorado? What did it matter if only she could get out? Something struck her ift the face, enveloping her head. For a moment she thought she would suffocate, then realized it had been merely a plunge through heavy curtains. The next thing she knew she was dragging the sharp sweet air of the night into her lungs as her escort half lifted, half hurled her into the tonneau of a waiting car. The chauffeur started so suddenly her head was thrown against the back of the seat. Then the cold cut into her; she shivered from head to toe and her teeth began to chat ter with a steady rattle. Promptly the man took her in his arms, snatched the rug from its bracket and drew it over them both. She tried to calm herself—she must calm herself or she couldn’t think. What did he intend? Where was he taking her? Then he did something which steadied her nerves at once; he tried to light a cigarette without disturbing her. At the flash of the match she looked up into Adan Ar- naldo’s pensive face. A great many thoughts struck Joyce all at once, making her dizzy. She had escaped the scene of pan demonium to fall into what? “If you’ll put me in a taxi,” she said, drawing away from him, “I’ll be all right. Then you can go back.” “To help the scrubwomen?” asked Arnaldo. “There wasn’t any thing unusual about our closing to night. I’ve seen eight people shot and killed in the last two years.” “OhI” gasped Joyce. “That’s why I was wondering,” he stated. “About what?” she asked. “You—a girl like you! I don’t get it yet. Coming into a dump like that between two buzzards. What did they want?” She decided at once to put Ar naldo off and in the same flash won dered if she dared try to draw him. “How should I know?” she re plied, almost without a pause. “I never saw either of them before to day.” “You’re not lying?” “I came to Mexico only yester day,” said Joyce. “It’s the truth. I wanted to see what was going on so I got Margarida Fonseca to take me.” “How did you come to go to her? Has she had herself listed as a guide?” “No,” said Joyce. “She’s my law yer.” “You’ve got me guessing,” he de clared. “When I saw you with those two zopilotes 1 had a feeling you’d need help pretty soon and need it bad, but you don’t seem to think so and I’m beginning to change my mind. Every man living has to be fooled by a woman ever so often and perhaps this is my night. Per haps I’m a bonehead, blind in both eyes, and you’re a bad egg.” “I’m not,” said Joyce simply; “I’m exactly what you thought. Please take me home." “Where?” She told him. He hesi tated for a moment, then caUed out the address to the driver. The car slowed, swung around the next cir cle and started back in the opposite direction. “All right. I’ll believe you. Since you say you’re what I thought you were I’ll take you straight to your hotel on one condition.” “What is it?” “That you never come into my place again.” “Don’t worry!” said Joyce fer vently. “I wouldn’t anyway. I’ve never been so frightened before, and it wasn’t the' row that did it.” “No?” said Arnaldo curiously. “If that rumpus didn’t scare you, what did?” “A face. It was horrible. I’ll never forget it.” “What face?” “That man in uniform—the one who started the trouble.” “Dorado,” said Arnaldo slowly, “Pepe Dorado. So that’s it. What do you want to know about Dora do?” “Only—only that I’ll never see him again.” '“You won’t; nobody will for a long while,” said Arnaldo grimly. “Why?” asked Joyce quickly. “Did something happen to him?” “Not yet, but I promise you it’s going to. I give him until daylight. I won’t see him out of town in per son but I have a couple of part ners nobody knows about who will. When they tell him to beat it he’ll go and stay gone.” As the car drew up in the light from the hotel entrance she laid her hand on his arm and looked straight into his eyes. “Why have you been so good to me? Why?” He shrugged his shoulders. “A lot of us Mexicans play at hating Pancho Buenaventura, in Uni form, Stepped Out to Help With the Luggage. the United States, but not me. They were good to me up there, a lot better than I’ve been to you. We’re different. It’s like two worlds. There’s one way to live in your country and another to live in mine, but let me give you a tip. It takes a strong head to stand mixed drinks. I have a strong head.” “So have I,” said Joyce. He studied her thoughtfully. “Ei ther you’re right about your head or you’re a fool.” “Why?” “Think it out for yourself. You don’t know danger when you see it. You start out with the boner of coming to Mexico. You tie in with a couple of gringo-haters who wouldn’t leave a lamb his bleat. You butt into El Tenebroso and when you’re out riding with a buzz- saw you think you’re playing with a paper pin-wheel. To top the list you decide to mix it with what— with whom? Pepe Dorado! No; there’s only one way to make every thing fit—you’re a fool and I’m an other.” “Perhaps I am,” said Joyce so berly, “but I hope not.” She pushed down the rug, stepped to the curb and gave him her hand. “I’ll never forget you or what you’ve done; please don’t forget me.” “I won’t!” he assured her. “Get along in before you freeze.” At ten o’clock at night of the third day Joyce and her baggage were transferred by taxi to the rail way station and then as a further precaution by another hired con veyance to Margarida’s apartment. Onelia was there. He glanced at his watch and spoke in a tender voice which seemed to drip with regret at parting. “It is time, my child 1 shall stay here. Go down by yourself and slip into my car. The chauf feur already has your bags and I’ve given him the necessary in structions. Don’t worry if he drives fast; it’s only to make sure nobody can follow.” Joyce hesitated whether to kiss Margarida, chilled by the peculiar look in her eyes. Too impatient to puzzle it out for what it was—a look of eternal farewell—she compro mised by touching cheeks in the Latin manner, one cheek and then the other. That done she hurried down two flights of stairs to the street and within five minutes was being driven at vertiginous speed along the Paseo de la Reforma, through the umbrageous Bosque de Chapultepec, around Dolores ceme tery and into a blind lane. There, blotted out against a clump of bushes, stood a dilapidated touring car with its tattered curtains in place. Sergeant Pancho Buenaven tura, in uniform, stepped out to help with the luggage and motioned to her to get into the tonneau, but she knew better. Resigning that space to her bags she climbed into the front seat beside him. A mo ment later they were off and pres ently swung left into the Toluca road. CHAPTER V Back in Elsinboro Mrs. Sewell was pacing distractedly up and down her living room awaiting the arrival of Helm Blackadder. Why had he shouted at her over the telephone? Why had he said such things? It was she who had grounds for anger, she who had a right to feel hurt. Was it her fault he had been away—gone to New York wit- out saying a word? Her soft brown eyes watered and then blazed. Ev erything she had done had been right; she had sacrificed herself to the limit, but she had done what was right. Abruptly Blackadder ap peared before her, not having both ered to ring or knock. She hurled hersHf into his arms. “Heim! Oh, Helm!” she sobbed. It was one of the cleverest moves of her entire career. Perforce he held her, patting her back, and the harder she clung to him the less could he find it in his heart to pour out the scathing words which a mo ment ago had been trembling on the tip of his tongue. “Irma, how on earth could you stir up such a mess for yourself? Why didn’t you find out where I was and call me up? Why couldn’t you wait till I came back?” She threw herself into a chair and covered her eyes. “Please don’t, Helm. Please listen to me first. That child—that poor child! When she didn’t come back after the week-end I telephoned Frances Holder and found she hadn't been there at all! Then I tried to tele phone you; I did, Helm. I notified the police; then I thought of the radio.” “I’ll say you did!” groaned Black adder. “Hasn’t it occurred to you Joyce isn’t lost at all? That nobody kidnaped her? That nothing has happened to her except what she intended to have happen?” “No, it hasn’t. Do you remember what she said to us? Do you? Well, I do; the words are burned into my brain. This is what she said: ’You want to be rid of me—both of you. All right. I promise. If it isn’t that way it will be another.’ ” “Bunk,” said Blackadder. “That girl? Never. How much money do you think she had?” “Hardly any.” Blackadder frowned. He went to the telephone and called up the sta tion master. “Jim, this is Helm Blackadder. Did Joyce Sewell leave Elsinboro on a train?” Promptly came the answer: “No, Helm, she didn’t. Naturally as soon as I seen about the reward I wasn’t satisfied with only checking up around here. I telephoned every crew from Buf falo to New York. You can take it from me she didn’t get away on no train.” “Thanks, Jim,” said Blackadder. He hung up and faced around to ward Irma. “So there’s a reward now, is there? How much?” “Five thousand doUars.” “Holy pickerel!” Blackadder started pacing the floor. Suddenly he halted. His brow cleared as if by magic and he made a leap for the telephone. “Airport!” he shouted. “Get me the airport!” A moment later he was talking again. “Airport? I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but this is Helm Blackadder. Get it? Helm Blackadder. Have you reported to the police what day, what hour and where you took your last woman passenger?” “No. Why should we?” “You know why. You see the pa pers, don’t you?” “Sure, we read ’em—me and the pilot both—and that’s why.” “I see,” said Blackadder softly. “Now listen, you. I’m Miss Joyce Sewell’s guardian. Quit worrying about that reward, if it’s ever paid to anybody, which it won’t be, I’ll guarantee you’ll get your share. You and your buddy don’t want to be put behind bars for compounding a felony, do you?" “Aw, say now. Mister, we ain’t done nothing.” “You’re right you haven’t and you’ll find there are cases where you can get in as bad for doing nothing as for pulling the* trigger. They call it abetting, meaning to incite, to encourage.” “What do you want to knowT” “Whtn did she leave?” “A week ago today at four o’clock.” “Where to?” “We carried her to Newark.” “How much did she pay for her ticket?” “How do I know? She didn’t buy no tickets from us." “Who did?” "Nobody. She had her tickets with her.” “Did anybody meet her at New ark?” “No.” “Have you any idea where she went from there?” “Sure. She was a through pas senger and would just have time to catch the plane south.” “Through? Through to where? Miami?” “No. Balbuena.” “Where’s that?” ; Tt’s the airport for Mexico City, Mister, and much good may it do you to know it.” Blackadder turned to Irma. “Did you get it? Joyce is in Mexico City. She’s been there for about four days.” “Mexico City!” gasped Irma. “Why, how can she be? You can't travel to Mexico City on five dol lars. I know because—” “That’s what’s got me stumped,” interrhpted Blackadder. He proceeded to call up the heads of the three banks in town, leaving, Mr. Bradley, known to have been Cutler Sewell’s good friend, to the last. The first two made no bones about answering since their infor mation happened to be negative; they had paid out no money as a loan or otherwise to Joyce SewelL But when it came to the president of the City National, the reply was decidedly evasive. “Let me get this straight, Helm,” said Mr. Bradley’s aggravatingly calm voice. “Have you taken out papers as Miss Joyce Sewell's guardian?” “No,” said Blackadder, control ling his temper with difficulty, “but her stepmother is sitting here be side me. Do you want me to put her on the phone—have her tell you you can say it to me and say it all?” “No; I’ll take your word tor it. Now just what is it you want to know. Helm?” (TO BE CONTINUED) Balkans Unable to End Old Custom of Vendetta and “Eye for Eye” Rule Holds Vendetta continues to be practiced in the Balkan mountains despite severest measures taken by the va rious governments there to suppress this centuries-old custom, writes a Vienna Unitea Press correspondent. “Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth” is the supreme law among the mountaineers, who extend it not on ly to the second and third genera tions of the killer but also to his remote relatives and to his entire village. Intervention by authorities counts for nothing in those regions. The thirst for revenge remains un quenched, even if the murderer has been executed under normal legal procedure in the meantime; it is considered a sacred rule that a kins man of the slain must kill the slayer, or, if this man cannot be reached, because he has died a natural death or for some other reason, one of the latter’s kin must be slain. The only alternative is “bessa,” a sort of “God’s truce.” It is seldom practiced because, aside from hu miliating ceremonies on the part of the slayer’s kin, it involves the pay ment of 50 gold pieces of “blood money,” an enormous sum among the peasants and shepherds. If, through friendly mediation bj a third village, “bessa” has beei* agreed upon, an appointment is made between the warring parties to meet in a spot midway between the villages. Unarmed and carrying a noose around his neck, the chief of the slayer’s family enters the other party’s camp, where he is met by the head of the rival tribe with the following formula: “Thou werest our enemy, thy kin were our enemies, thy village with all its houses, with all its herds and fields and with all that lives and thrives there, were our enemies.” mi I I 1203 B IH05 S EW-YOUR-OWN presents a house frock with the heart to be up and doing, no matter how busy you are, how old you are, or how many calories you’ve forgot ten to keep count of. Sew-Your- Own also presents the first doll with a heart (the picture proves it). And lastly it presents a frock with a love interest for a Modern Miss, something usually confined to the movies. Ideal for Home. Sew-Your-Own always has had a soft spot in its heart for the Lady of the Fireside, she who cooks and bakes and sews and keeps everything right. Today’s house frock for her (above left) is as neat and sweet as anyone could wish. The collar in contrast and the saw tooth edging piped to match, make that difference be tween this dress and run-of-the- mill, Of course, it’s easy to run up and practically no trouble at all to launder. Better make two! A Doll—a Dress. The little lady in the center, above, knows her heart's in the right place because Mommy put it there. Dolly Dimples is her swell little playmate and her heart’s in the right place, too. Ask your Mommy to send for Pattern 1203 and you’ll have a great big surprise in store. Yes siree! Her Heart Unattached. Maybe Miss Svelt Seventeen (above right) wears her heart on her sleeve, or maybe she keeps it locked in a refrigerator. Who can tell? But this you can tell: she knows style. She’s good to her figure! Her frock, an original Sew- Your-Own design, gives her real distinction — that different-in-the- 1377 right-way look. It is the ultimata in chic in rayon crepe with a satin waist front. The Patterns. Pattern 1405 is designed for sizes 34 to 46. Size 36 requires 4% yards of 35-inch material plus % yard contrasting. Pattern 1203 is designed for sizes 2, 3, 4, and 5 years. Size S requires 1% yards of 35-inch ma terial for the child’s dress. The doll’s body, medium size, requires % yard of 35-inch materiaL The doll’s dress, medium size, re quires % yard of 35- or 39-inch material. One hank of wool is required for doll’s hair. Pattern 1377 is designed for sizes 14 to 20 (32 to 44 bust). Size 16 requires 2% yards of 54-inch material. The topper in contrast requires % yard of 39-inch ma terial. Send your order to The Sewing Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020, 211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, HL Price of patterns, 15 cents (5n coins) each. New Pattern Book. Send 15 cents for the Barbara Bell Fall and Winter Pattern Book. Make yourself attractive, practical and becoming clothes, selecting designs from the Bar bara Bell well-planned, easy-to rn ake patterns. Wrapped in MoMareprool Cellophane St.Joseph GENUINE PURE ASPIRIN : CHEW LONG BILL NAVY TOBACCO