Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE SUN, NEWBERRY, S. C„ FRIDAY. SEPTEMBER 1, 1939 CHILD OF EVIL O OCTAVUS ROY COHEN WNU SERVICE By OCTAVUS ROY COHEN SYNOPSIS Beautiful, young Kay Forrest has been employed by Christine Maynard, photographer, to pose for a series of pictures, the background of which will be exquisite Cathedral Gardens, famous Southern resort. Unknown to them, one Jeff Butler, mean, unscrupulous "swamp angel.” has led a friend to spy on the two women. Kay, of necessity, is scantily clad while posing for the camera studies. Kay frequently stays with Mrs. Ruth Hamilton, her son Bar ney, of whom Kay is very fond, and her daughter Margaret. Mrs. Hamilton, a remarkable woman, conceived the idea of the Gardens following the death of her husband. One night, after a local dance. Kirk Reynolds, a ne'er-do-well gambler of Beverly, a resort town, and Kay go for a ride. Kirk’s car collides with that of Harvey Jackson, and during the ensuing argument Kirk whips out a gun and kills the young, popular engineer. Kay is completely stunned by the tragedy. CHAPTER HI—Continued Kay’s hands were clasped in her lap, her figure racked by dry sobs. ‘‘Oh, Kirk ... it was so awful . . “Lay off that. I’m trying to be Und, but you won’t let me.” She said, “Will you go away?” “No. That’d be a dumb play. Then they’d know I did it.” “But if you stay in Beverly , . “I’ve got to. And you’ve got to play along with me.” His hand fell on her wrist. “You’ve got to; see?” His voice frightened her. The kind liness had gone from it. It had be come the sort of voice he had used with Harvey Jackson. Cold. Bit ter. Inviting no argument. She said, “I don’t understand . . .” “Murder is murder,” he explained flatly. “A man can only be hanged once. Does that tell you anything?” “No . . “Then listen. You saw something tonight. You know I don’t bluff. If you open your mouth to anyone you’ll get the same dose Jackson got.” Calmly. Quietly. Just like that. If you say a word to anybody, I’ll kill you, too. She was like one hypnotized . . . but the recent trag edy had been too vividly seared on her young brain to admit of doubt. “I’m scaring you because you need to be scared.” His tone was conversational. “I want you to real ize just what you’re up against.” “But Kirk ... you couldn’t!” “No?” He laughed mirthlessly. “A man will do a heap of things to save his own hide. You’re just a kid. You’re all shot to hell by what you just saw. You’re figuring you’ve got to talk to someone. Right?” She said nothing; made no ges ture. He continued. “You’d be likely to tell your fa ther. Or this Hamilton guy. I’m warning you . . . don’t!” Still she did not answer. “Here’s why,” he went on. "And I don’t want to make it any tougher on you than I can help. Only you’ve got to understand. For your own sake.” His hands were tight on the wheel. “It won’t be safe for any body to know what happened to night. If you tell your old man—or Barney Hamilton—they’ll try to do something about it. That won’t be healthy for them.” “But they had nothing to do with it.” “They’ll be in it the minute you spill a word. And remember what I said before; they can’t kill me any deader for killing three men than for killing one.” That damnable logic again. Cold Statement of cold fact. “I’d do it. You saw enough to night to know I would. So for their sakes . . . you keep ’em out of it.” A pause, and then, “And one more thing. Maybe you’ll figure that if you squealed I’d be thrown in jail and everybody would be safe. Wei, that don’t go, either. My dice-deal er, Dan—I’ve enough on him to Clang him twice over. If I wanted to get someone and couldn’t—on ac count of being in jail—he’d do it for me. And be glad of the chance." They passed a big white house set far back from the road. A planta tion. Kay saw people on the broad, high veranda; heard snatches of laughter and the syncopation of a jazz orchestra playing in some gay New York night spot . . . and in truding into this southern tragedy through the loud speaker of a radio. “Put yourself in my place,” said Kirk. “Then you’ll know I’m not bluffing.” She could put herself in his place; that was the staggering thing. She knew that he was telling no less than the truth. She, of all persons in the world, had reason to know that he was deadly and cold blooded. She felt terribly young and alone. “This,” Kirk said, “is between you and me. There are liable to be questions. And you’re not to know the answers. Is that perfectly clear?” She said, “I can’t think ...” “You’ll have time enough for that.” His words were close-clipped. “But whatever you think—always remember this, anyone else who knows about this is going to find himself in a lot of trouble.” i* • • • Beverly is bisected by State High way No. 11 which runs due east and west and digresses only briefly at Monument Square to circle the venerable two-story brick court house which stands solidly and sol emnly under benevolent old oak trees. At either end of the town on this highway are new and impressive archways, designed by leading car penters and flaunting to the tourist world sentiments collaborated on by prominent* members of the local Chamber of Commerce who daily view the fruit of their literary ac tivities with pride. Entering the town from east or west, you are confronted by this; WELCOME TO BEVERLY Pop. 6,500 Departing, the tourist glimpses the reverse side of the same arch way and is edified by another lit erary confection: PLEASED TO HAVE MET YOU COME AGAIN TO BEVERLY Pop. 6,500 Artistically and perhaps estheti- cally the signs are ^intriguing, how ever little they might seem to blend with the sleepy tranquillity of the lit tle southern town. They are wrong, however, in one important respect, the optimistic Chamber of Com merce being inclined to ignore cold facts. Some few persons resent an ex aggeration which defies the Federal census of 1930. Government figures proclaim to the world that the mu nicipality of Beverly has 4,376 resi dents. Members of the Chamber of Commerce declare frequently, offi cially and vehemently that this count is untrue and that there has been deliberate and unforgivable discrimination. They appear to be lieve that such an undercount is a cataclysmic thing, affecting the well-being of the entire world, and their assertion that sixty-five hun dred persons reside in the little town is merely a method of answering this libel. “All right,” is the effect of their statement, “we’ll tell the world how many people we think we have.” These sign-boards are a direct and proximate result of the successful launching of Cathedral Gardens. With the Gardens completed, the gravel road leading to them freshly scraped, the White Star Hotel newly papered—in spots—leading citizens and business men conceived the idea that tourists might come to visit awhile. _ The signs were therefore erected’ and casual arrangements made to entertain a few strangers. But for some reason which Beverly never could quite understand, the fame of the Gardens spread over night. There were other beautiful Gardens in the South, many of them, whose fame had been broadcast for decades, but there was something about this new place of Mrs. Ham ilton’s which intrigued the fancy of tourists. They came not singly, but in battalions. They descended upon the somnolent little town and swarmed about its streets. And since Beverly was a considerable distance from any large city—being therefore a metropolis of sorts—the tourists usually remained for two, three or four days. They visited Cathedral Gardens in the early morning. They flocked there during all the daylight hours. And, almost invariably, they re mained in anticipation of moonlight nights when the Gardens reached the zenith of enchantment. Visitors wrote to their friends: “Of course Cathedral Gardens are beyond description. You must see them. But when you do come, plan to stay a few days. This is a queer little town, but lots of fun. The ho tel isn’t half bad and there’s danc ing every night. One good picture- house, and several places along the roads serve barbecue sandwiches which are worth driving a few miles to get. There are other things, too. The proprietor will tip you off if he thinks you’re safe—believe it or not —to a dice-game on the second floor. Regular crap-table, and it’s fun, pro vided you don’t mind losing a little. We have stayed five days and we’re coming back when the azaleas are over and the lotus season begins. They say that’s going to be breath taking.” And, on more than one occasion, letters were despatched from gen tlemen tourists to other gentle men who might become tourists. These letters touched on another point: “. . . And in addition to all that, Jim, old man, there’s plenty of hot- cha here. If you’re lonely, meet Miss Henkel, the beauty operator in the hotel. She’s easy on the eyes —and boy! how tropic! The rest is up to you. As a matter of fact, the whole thing is a miracle. I can’t help wondering what the old-timers in this burg think of the jazz inva sion. “P. S. This Henkel dame answers to the name of Babe. What she answers is something else again. A word to the wise is foolish.” It had taken Beverly no time at all to become tourist-conscious, nor to exploit its visitors. Robbie Morse raised the price for his best rooms to two dollars a day, and never quite oriented himself to the fact that it was paid without question. Pleasant homes on streets jutting off from Monument Square placed signs in their front yards: “Tour ists Accommodated” and some of them assumed names: “The Gray House—Meals & Beds for Tourists,” “Welcome to Ye Olde Inne. Chick en Dinners and Comfortable Rooms,” "Rooms. Meals. Free Parking. Make This Your Head quarters While Visiting Cathedral Gardens.” And all of this had happened sud denly and bewilderingly to a town which for more than two hundred years had dozed placidly under southern skies; a town which was bordered on the east by Big Moc casin Swamp and on all other sides by tradition; a town where busi ness had been depression-proof and boom-proof; a town unaware of the outside world except on those in frequent occasions when the na tion had indulged in warfare. Bev erly was startled, business men ap plauded. A littlfe roadster, having as pas sengers Kay Forrest and Barney Hamilton, approached Beverly from the east, bumped across the rail road tracks and moved slowly up Palmetto Avenue toward Monument Square. The Square was crowded. Out side the White Star Hotel was a fleet of cars, most of them wearing the license plates of other States. The general trend of passenger traffic was eastward, toward Cathedral “A man can only be hanged once.” Gardens. Farmers, in from the country in rattle-trap flivvers, searched despairingly for parking space and cursed Beverly’s new pop ularity. The Constable on duty at the Square made large and frantic gestures in an entirely futile effort to regulate traffic. Barney asked a question. “Home?” “Yes.” “Right away?” •.‘Yes.” He said, “You’re funny. You haven’t even been to town in two weeks, and now you have to run home. Why?” “I must. Really.” “Before you get out—” he started. “What?” “Well, I suppose it’s none of my business and I swore I wasn’t go ing to butt in . . .” “Go ahead, Barney.” “All right.” He drew a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong with what?” “With you?” The smile died from her eyes. She said, “Nothing.” “Tell that to somebody else. I know there is.” “What makes you think so?” “Lots of things. It started the day after you went to the dance with Kirk Reynolds two weeks ago. You’ve been different. And you haven’t even wanted to come to town until this morning. It’s almost as though you were afraid of some thing.” She said, “Maybe I am.” “Then spill it. You know how I feel about you.” “How?” She tried to relieve the tension. “Let’s put it that I’m a sap, which might explain why I love you . . .’’ Her face flushed and she touched his hand ever so gently. “But darn it! don’t you see where that puts me? I want to help and you won’t let me. You’re stalling.” She said, earnestly. “I’m not— really. There’s nothing wrong.” He shrugged. “You win. I’ll check out.” “Barney! Please . . .” He turned on her then, his blond, boyish face serious. “Let’s talk tur key, Kay. Something happened when you came into town two weeks ago. When I drove you in, you were bright and happy. The next day you came back to the Gardens all shot to hell. Mother and Mar garet have both noticed it. I’ve seen it in your eyes. You’re scared . . . and don’t say I’m wrong, either.” She shook her head. “You may not be wrong, Barney; but I still can’t explain.” “Kirk Reynolds is mixed up in it, isn’t he?” She was startled. “What make* you think so?” “I’ve got to think it. Whatever the trouble is, it started the night you went to the dance with him.” “Yes.” Her eyes were somber. “As a matter of fact, Barney, that’s why I’m in town today.” “Why?” “To see Kirk.” “But why? What’s the big idea of wasting your time on a louse like him?” She said, “I’ve got to talk to him, that’s all I can tell you.” The boy’s eyes narrowed. “That telephone call you got last night, was that from him?” “Yes.” “He told you to come in this morn ing?” “He asked me to.” “And you won’t explain what’s eating on you?” “Barney! I can’t! It isn’t that I don’t want to.” “I see.” He spoke gently. “Lis ten, honey—there’s a lot of nasty talk going around regarding Kirk Reynolds. You haven’t heard it be cause you haven’t been in town in the last two weeks. And I haven’t told you. But I’ll tell you this much —I don’t like the idea of your play ing around with him.” She said, “I don’t either, Barney. But this morning I’ve got to see him.” “Check! I wish you’d tell me what’s what.” “I would ... if I could.” He lighted a cigarette with fingers which were none too steady. “Go ing back to the Gardens tonight?” “Yes.” “With me?” “I hope so.” “I’ll pick you up here at five. Oke?” “Right. So now . . .” She put a warm hand over his in brief caress. Then she jumped out of the car and moved up the walkway toward the veranda of her home. He looked after her with troubled eyes. “Something’s awful wrong,” he told himself, “and I’m going to find out what it is.” CHAPTER IV Mrs. Emma Forrest was a fine woman. Her friends agreed that she was fine; that she had an over plus of those stefling and pious qual ities which make for social success and domestic happiness in a town like Beverly. No one, or at least very few, per sons ever criticized Emma Forrest. She ran her home immaculately, dressed) well and plainly, did ardent church work, belonged to a reading circle, and was inordinately fond of helpmg neighbors when there was illness in the house, though it was not unknown that after these neigh borly excursions she invariably had something to talk about: something personal and intimate, like the dearth of bed linen or the condition of kitchen plumbing or the shocking failure of the ill woman to have stocked her pantry shelves with pre serves. Mrs. Forrest was forty-eight years of age. She was not fat, but she definitely was heavy. Solid. Not com fortable at all, but solid. Folks as serted that her face showed strength of character. Her manner was pos itive—so positive that Andrew For rest, her rather smallish husband, had acquired a chronic submissive ness. He never—or very seldom— argued with Emma, and on such rare occasions as he did, he never won. At least Emma never ac knowledged that he had. She was that sort of a woman: a thing was right because she said it was right. The good upper - middle - class housewives of the town admired Emma Forrest. They admired her sterling qualities, her goodness of heart, her efficient management of her household, her success in having molded her twenty-two-year-old son, Andy, into a stalwart masculine edi tion of herself. And they wondered why a thoughtless Providence had inflicted upon her such a daughter as Kay. “She’s wild, that’s what she is—in spite of everything her moth er has tried to do for her.” They said, “She’ll come to no good end, mark my words.” They said, “It’s a pity Kay couldn’t have turned ou' to be a fine girl. Emma didn’t de serve to have that sort of daughter.” By that, Beverly did not mean to infer that Kay Forrest was immor al, although there were some few who, without particular conviction, hinted that they wouldn’t be so ter ribly surprised to learn that she was. This morning the family had fin ished breakfast. They were wait ing, Mrs. Forrest and Andy rather grim and pious. Andrew Forrest who, by original selection and bio logical chance, had become nomi nal head of the household, uncer tain and ill at ease. He knew that Kay was to be greeted with a bar rage of criticism, and inasmuch as there existed between him and his nineteen-year-old daughter a bond of friendship and sympathy and under standing which was beyond the com prehension of the virtuous Emma ... he waited gallantly to give such meager support as lay within his power. They saw Kay step out of Barney Hamilton’s little car. They saw her move up the walk; cross the veran da. They saw her come through the front door and approach the dining room. Mrs. Forrest greeted her with a remark which was not unobvious. Mrs. Forrest said, “We’ve been waiting for you, Katherine.” Kay caught an almost impercep tible warning flicker of her father’s right eyelid. Therefore she answered meekly, “Yes, ma’am.” (TO BE CONTlNUEOi BlaclT or Print Jersey Frock Is Ideal for Immediate Wear By CHERIE NICHOLAS A BOUT the grandest thing that has happened in the land o’ fashion is the dress of either silk, rayon or wool jersey. In the rayon jersies that are printed in discreet patternings the career girl who must live a studio or office life has met her ideal. These new dot-patterned or striped suave sleek jersey frocks have a way of laying siege to your heart the moment you see them. And what’s best of all they “im prove on acquaintance,” when you discover how slenderizing they are to the figure and how they give you the well-dressed appearance all through the active hours of the day. Note the three jersey frocks in the picture. Choose the one you like best and then confide in your dealer that you feel the urge for a jersey frock stirring within and forthwith you will be shown a collection of jersey dresses, each and every one of which will impress you with its charm and chic. The frock centered in the picture is a refined and fetching model, the kind that will grace office, school room and studio to perfection. This dress is made of black crush-proof (emphasis on crush-proof) black rayon jersey printed in white pin dots. This model is charming in wine or dark green with white dot print. The trimming is white pique and the smart hat is of black satin. Wear this frock and you will be gra ciously gowned for any diytime oc casion. Very popular this season is polka dots overprinted on checks. Can you conceive of a more intriguing dot- on-check print than a black smooth lustrous rayon jersey patterned in black and white check, splashed with huge dubonnet red polka dots as pictured to the left in the illustra tion? Just such eye-appealing effects can be had in a long list of color combinations. The dress buttons from neckline to hem. A crushed black patent waistbinder adds the touch supreme from the sartorial standpoint. Something new in a fall afternoon frock is pictured to the right. The skirt is a 1939 fashion favorite. It is of soot-black silk jersey fashioned according to the latest, which calls for lots and lots of flare about the hemline with snug-fitted hips. In sleek jersey such as this designers have discovered a fabric of match less draping qualities that performs miracles in the way of slenderizing the figure. Striped white jersey is used for the top given a diagonal treatment. The emphasis placed on the all black frock as a fashion “first,” for fall leave no alternative to the wom an who would be well dressed. A classic black this season becomes an essential. Why not a black silk or rayon jersey? The gown of draped or shirred black silk jersey will prove “a thing of beauty and a joy forever” all through the fall months and on into the winter to wear un der your fur coat. With it you wear, if you are fash ion-wise, massive gold jewelry pref erably one of the gorgeous gold bib necklaces som,_ of which are re splendent with colored stone set tings. These necklaces are so wide they remind of deep yokes. And keep in mind there must always be added a matching gold bracelet. (Released by Western Newspaper Union.) Modish Black The new blacks impress with their striking smartness. The chic of a black costume such as centers the style stage at present depends upon the sophisticated simplicity of its styling. Spongy black wool crepe has been used for the jacket dress pictured. The skirt which flares in latest approved manner is topped with a pert youthful double-breasted jacket whifch accents the new brief waistline length. The vestee of white crepe shows a tucked front and Peter Pan collar. Unrelieved Black Fashion’s Latest Black unrelieved, save for a dash of bizarre jewelry, is being carried out by those who go in for extremes in striking ways. For instance, with a dull black crepe dress a noted Paris couturier partners a lustrous black satin blouse, adding a tall hat with drape-manipulated tower ing crown of matching satin. The handbag is also of ^atin. The ef fect is stunning. Reversing the order of things with a lusterful silk jersey frock, smart accessories worn include hat, bag, shoes and gloves of soot black ante lope, gorgeous gold jewelry high lighting the ensemble. Many of the new sheer black wool ens are being trimmed with black velvet for collar and other details. Of course, the logical hat to wear must also be of black velvet. Black sequins glitter on evening gowns of dull blacks in a blaze of glory. French designers are using quantities of black passementrie and braiding on black fabric giving an air of elegance that bespeaks a new dignity in fashions for the coming months. Massive Jewelry Is Current Style Jewelry is playing a tremendous part in current fashion. The trend is toward massive gold and jeweled necklaces and bracelets, which, worn with the new black gowns that make simplicity their theme, is star tlingly effective. Size is all-important in necklaces. The deep collar types are in the lead. In other items of jewelry the idea of size also is stressed. Brooches are very large as also are earrings and clips. CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT BABY CHICKS flUIDlfCI Assorted heavies,blood- CO 9ft LnlUfto! tested No cripples-* V™ WlllVimw. No cuIls 100 p^tpaid ** Send Money Order for Prompt Shipment. 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You should get at the cause of the trouble. If you eat the super-refiued food most people eat, the chances are the difficulty is simple—you don’t get enough “bulk." And ‘‘bulk’’ doesn’t mean heavy food. It’s a kind of food that isn’t con sumed in the body, but leaves a soft "bulky” mass In the intestines. If this common form of con stipation is your trouble, eat Kellogg’s All-Bran for breakfast every day and drink plenty of water. All-Bran isn’t a medicine —it’s a crunchy, toasted, nutri tious cereal. And it will help you not only to get regular but to keep regular, day after day. Made by Kellogg’s in Battle Creek. Sold by every grocer. N—' Open Avenue to tilery Literature is an avenue to glory, ever open for those ingenious men who are deprived of honors or of wealth.—Isaac Disraeli. NERVOUS? Do you feel so nervous you want to scream? Are you cross and irritable? 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