Evening Star Newspaper, November 15, 1929, Page 43

RHODA A Red-Headed Girl Copyright 1929, North American Newspaper Alliance FIRST INSTALLMENT. HE first moment was complicat- ed, and, being the first, is prob- ably worth disentangling. = Aft- erward, when there was time to think, Martin Forbes went back | to_it himself. had been perfectly involuntary, his at the girl like that. It wasn't “hie sort of thing he did. to hang around on.the g of the floor of a public danee hall and smile info the eyes of strange girls, no matter how pretty they were. He n of Babe Jennings. She was to be there, she said, and if she gave him the high sign he was take it #s permission to cut in and dance with her. Martin took a partly professional interest in Babe. She had a very good Job on his paper as an ad-taker, but she had an avocation which he was giv- en to understand was even more lucra- Sive. She was, more or less, on the staff, of the Alhambra. ‘There was nothing improper about the Albambra. It wasn't that sort of place, Men merely came there who wanted a girl to dance with. Well, Babe was one of the girls who supplied this demand. There was, of course, no Published tariff of fees, but one accept- ed tips. Sometimes these were small; Mart was invited to marvel at what pikers some people were. Yet, on the other hand . ‘Well, after making the customary discount from all Babe's atatements of this sort, one arrived at something rather better than $25 a ‘week as her average figure. To the fiction writer, which Martin meant to be, she ought to prove a mine of variegated raw material. Even for his present job she was worth cultivat- ing, he thought. His specialty was fea- had come to the Alhambra at the nd_Metropol asked you if you didn't want to be res- cued, because that was exactly wl 1 did ask. I mean, those very words. “Well,” she innocently questioned, “why not?" | “Because I didn't say it to you at all. I was standing 60 feet away from |y I said it to myself.” ou really said it, though; didn't | just_think it.” “That's thc whole point,” he irsisted | impatiently. “You knew what I meant, but how did you know exactly what I said?” “Telepathy,” she told him; but she sala i with a grin. She'd leaned forward a little to watch the erowd on the floor, and she sudden- ly drew back. The man he'd rescued her from—Lewis, if that was his name— was coming actoss the floor. Martin drew back, too. “Do people’s names ever strike you as misfits?” he asked. “His does. My idea of a man named Lewis doesn't look lke that.” “It may not be his real name,” she remarked. “Or he may have changed it from something else. People do some- times. All I know is that that's the | way he was introduced to me by ore of the managers. He asked me to call him | Max, but I didn't know whether that's | short for Maxwell or Maxfield or wheth- er it's his whole name.” He thought she'd colored over this admisison that she was indebted to on¢ of the floor managers for a dancing artner. He'd resplved not to try to hink her out until afterward, but it was a resolution he couldn't keep. Whe was she? What was she? “There comes the orchestra,” he sald. “Let’s go down and dance again.” Just then he saw Babe Jennings com- ing along with a client in tow. Babe saw his companion and said, with sisterly familiarity, “Hello, Red! You through with that box?” His girl—"“Red,” indeed!—answered, e 2 o He touched her companion ture stories. Sometimes the city editor sent ?‘m out on assignments, but mostly they let him alone to pick things up for himself. He hadn’t known whether or Babe had anything special in mind in suggesting that he drop around at Alhambra ht, but he didn't mugh care. He had a hunch that he ‘was gaing to pick up some sort of story. At the moment, however, he wasn't thin] about his . He was von- ‘whether he hadn't discovered a new law of physics. Was your repulsirn to man with whom you saw a pretty girl dancing. directly proportionate to your attrac to the girl? He had lked the girl from his first glimpse of her curly red hair. Pending | an unity to see her face, Le | glang up at her partner, and instently him. But was it, he wondered, a really intrinsic dislike, or merely a funetlon, so to speak, of the attraction he felt to the m{}fm‘ it was 1o glaringly wron; sbout the bird. He might be mmemlng | less than 40. He had a meaty-looking | face and a complacent smile, and his was a bit foppish. He danced but you could see he felt he was | c the little girl a treat. No, there as fi law about it. Martin would !u;‘.“‘ ted him anywhere. as the music stopped they turn- ed 50 that he could see the girl's face and, pleased surprise, he smiled at her—involuntarily, as has been men- tioned, But it was like a head-on col- lisiop, for her look met his, absolutely true. There was a substratum of smile about it, but above that there was a sort half-serious -desperation that had reference, Martin was sure, to the man Ilu3 been dancing with, ‘ant to be rescued?” Martin asked safely enough, since she stood 20 paces off, and he didn't, of course, speak the ‘words aloud. Byt, exactly as if she’d heard him, she perceptibly nodded her head and then looked up at her partner, who had ) n to her. v the instant you've looked,” was one of Martin’s mottoes, and he walked 10 where she stood withoyt pausing to worder whether he hadn't imagined | that mod, or what the consequences | weuld be if he had. The queerest thing | aboyt it was the apparently idiotie thing he found he was saying to himself as he approahced. “But I dian’t krow she had red hair.” There w huffled up from somewhere in the back of his mind & picture of her in one of those little round Basque caps that artists | sometimes wear—a beret, that was (he | name of it. Had he ever seen her be- | fore? Was that why he had smiled at | her. Well, he was in for it now. He touched her companion on the | arm, and said, “May I cut in?” From the way they both flashed around, you'd have said he'd surprised them equally. But in her face there | da a delighted recognition that | would have convinced anybody. “F thought I saw you just a miute ago,” she said. Then, to the man she | wes Abandoning, “You'll excuse us, ' wen't you? It's literally forever since ‘we've had a dance together.” Forbes felt himself wearing a broad grin a8 he danced away with her. Nei- | ther_spoke again until the long dance | was finally over. H "'Bo ?ou have to go back? tested then. “To him, I me: “To Mr. Lewis? No.” He was thrown out of his siride fcr a second by a pleasant perccption she | knew how to promounce the name “Well, then, why . 1" he began. “Just because you were kind enough | to ask me if I didn't want to be res- cued,” she explained, you've taken me on indefinitely. m't you anybody to go back to>” ot & soul,” he told her. “Let's gn get & goda or something.” [or wants in the way of rafreshment were. modest, A glass of root beer was the phly thing she'd have, She'd given him enough enigmas to keep him guessing for hours, t there was one queer t he pro- | rprises and n, | wise in the side corridor. | say that. it doesn't follow | in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, *Yes, come in. We're going to dance.” It wasn't until then that Babe recog- nized him. “Hello, Marty!” she sald, in lively surprise. “I've been looking around for you. But I didn't know you two knew each other.” His companion smiled. “We don't she admitted. . “We picl ) st I wish,” Martin put in, “t be _good enough te introduce us.” It amused him to see that Babe was shocked. ‘““Miss White,” she said, with cold formality, “let me introduce Mr. Forbes.” She added, as she turped ‘t::rfllybm "fi"""?.'x' her !c}:an ion '-ll:’o een hanging e ground, that she liked some g‘eo le's nerve! 2 Babe’s disapproval of their manners advanccd their acquaintance another step. As they moved off, arm in arm, he was aware that Red—rno, he would'nt even think of her as “Red!” Red White! What a name!—that she, then, was as much amused over Babe's attitude as he was. She didn't say anything about it. He was content with lite as they resumed dancing. His earlier convic- tion about her was restored. Na mat- ter how well she knew Babe, they lived in_different worlds. . He sald to her as they danced, “I don't like that name: Babe Jenning's nickname for you.” She smiled good-naturedly. “Red? Wll%'_hnnl'( It fits.” “¥ou may not like my real name, either,” she saild. “It's Rheda. You don't like it, do you? Or, if you do,” she went on, overriding the protest he made, “what made you look so funny when I told you?” He didn't try to deny that he might have looked funny. “I've got some association with the name that I can't spot. I don't know anybody named Rhoda. But the name’s geen in my mind within the last three T y: “Well, don't try to find it now,” she admonished him. “You don't dance as In the next pa as they stood wait- ing for the orchestra to go en, Martin saw a frown cross the girl's eyebrows, and the next instant a voice said at his elbow: “May I have the rest of this| dance?”. A rather scared voice. It| wouldn't be Lewis', anyhow, and he turned to see a blushing, eager young- ster who'd cut in on him. Annoying as the intrusion was, Mar- tin couldn’t help liking the girl better for her kindliness in ‘putting the shy boy at his ease, Sge introduged him to Martin—Higgins, his name was—and danced away with him. It pleased Martin, though, to observe that he danced badly. He made for a vacant sofa, one of a pair that stood back to back thwart- Its fellow had, he noted, for its solitary tenant a girl whose aggressive blondness made a really focused glance necessary to sat- isfy him that she wasn’'t Babe Jen- nings. Reassured, he dropped into the vacant seat behind her. But he'd hard- | ly begun thinking about Rhoda when | a man sat down beside the woman on | the other sofa and said: | X';Wcll, you were right. She's the girl.” “Where is she now?” The woman spoke low, but her voice had an edge that made it carry. “Out on the flgor. She can't see us here. Trust her to dance when there’s music going. She's some dancer, I'll ell, I guess I've beaten the | old man to it this time." “You?” the woman questioned iron- | lcally. | “Oh, that was a good hunch you had.” he admitted. The woman's comment Was & con- | temptuous laugh. | Martin, interested without knowing why, listened. The woman was speak- | ing now in a more conciliatory manner. “Tell me how you made sure. I sup- pose you got her to tell you the story of her life.” T made a pretty fair start § that he to her about " he rentarked, “your a8 you fust now, that I " with her,” he sald "She's THE EVENING By Hen'ry Kitchell Webster litan Newspaper Service g&c”l found out her first name, and it “Kept her own first name, did she?" the woman said. “She's the one, then. | T was practically sure when I saw her.” “She didn't see you, did she?” “Not a chance! She was turning in ‘lm;: and I was going by on the side- walk. | _“I guess it's all right,”” the man said. “It won't do any hi though, if I try to find out some more about her.” The woman uttered another short, unpleasant laugh. “You listen here, Max,” she said. “You've got just one job_tonight—find out where she lives. If I can get her address, we'll have C. J. where we want him. Until we know that we're no- where. We haven’t any time to waste fooling around. She may see that ad tomorrow and ‘answer it. Take her home, if you life, or follow her home. It’s all one to me, as long as you find out where she lives. As soon as you know, tell me. I'll do the rest. T'll go new. No, sit still. I don’t want to take a ch«la'ncn on her seeing us together. So tong!” She came around Martin's side of the sofa, and he watehcd her all the way the st His mind wag blank, however, as as she was cohcerned. He had something else to think about. He had ;&nu his association with the name joda. For the past week some one had been advertising y in the personal column of ews for the address of Rhoda McFar~ d. Martin read the persenal column Ay carefully. Every now and then found the beginning of a story in it, He had es) ly these advertise- ments for MgFarland because of 8 minor oddity ibout them. Usually the advertisers for &- addresses of missing il e “May I eut in?" persons were firms of attorneys who of- fered their own names and addresses in full. But these had all been blind ads. The answerer was invited to com- municate his facts to “X-203" or some- ;.'hmg of the sort, care of the Daily ews. Today the form of the changed. Rhoda MeFarland, said, would learn something to her ad- ;:nme by wmmuu,\culn with “X- 3”; Rhg}l McFarland, though, not Rhoda White, ‘What had made the memory of that series of advestisements pop into his head so suddenly? He'd been eaves- dropping intently on the conversation that was going on behind him. Max was to find out where the girl lived to- night, because they hadn’t any time for fooling around. She might see that ad in the paper tomorrow and answer it. Martin _sat_suddenly erect. Had it b;:nt?hh Rhoda they were talking abou He hadn't yet seen the man who was still sitting on the sofa behind him, but the woman had called him Max. The obvious thing to do was to take a look at him; find out if he was the same Max that Rhoda had wanted to be rescued from. But to do that qpenl{l would probably give away to the blighter the fact that his conversation with the woman had been overheard by some one who took an interest in it. Better sit still & minute first apd check up. ‘This pair he'd heard talking, what ‘were they up to? They wanted to find a girl before somebody else did, some- body who was advertising for her. The woman had thought she recognized her, but hadn’t been sure. Apparently, she had sent for Max to scrape an acquaint- ance with the girl and find out whether she was the one they wanted. “She’s the girl, all right,” Max had said. She was “cagey,” but he'd found out her | first name And this, added to the woman's half-recognition, he regarded as conclusive. He wouldn't have said | that, wouldn't have gone through the process at all, Martin reflected, had the name under which the girl was intro- duced to him been that of the girl he was looking for. The first name fitted in and the second one didn't: Rhoda ‘White instead of Rhoda McFarland. Queer that she, a girl with that forth- right air, should be going about under an assumed name, Did even Babe, who called her Red so familiarly, know what | her real name was? He doubted i, | somehow. His reporter’s nose had detected a story and professional instinct started him planning how he could run it down. Talk to Babe Jennings tonight and find out how much she knew about the girl. Find out who X-203 was. For a guess, he’d turn out to be the C. J. whom Max and his lady friend were trying to take advantage of. And then go through all the McFarlands in the newspaper morgue to see if he goul discover any reason why a Rhoda of that name should have changed it for | the colorless name White, and disap= peared. But at that point he saw her face smiling at him in friendly confidence as she'd smiled when she'd danced away with Higgins. He didn’t want a story about her. He hated the idea that there was a story. If there was one that for any reason she wanted buried, buried it sheuld remain, for al! of him. The musie stopped sooner than he'd cted it to, and he got up precipi- tately. . If he'd seen Babe Jennings | coming along he'd: have sat still for| another three seconds and let her go by ; As it was, she gaw him and sang out to him as she approached, “Hello | | Marty! What have you done with Red | | White?” | “I had to let her dance away with another man,” he said. “But I'm going to find her now.” ‘The thing he feared but hadn't seen how to avoid happened, The big man . to his feet -ul cagty, ‘though, and 1. i %’wm to Dress oo hard. T get next time. ~ B et s g happen. For & second or s0 WO STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 192¢ men were looking at each other rather inten! tly. “Oh,’ hello!” Max Lewis said. T didn't know you were here. Did I hear ing to dance with Roiss “Wndter " B0 “Y suppose that's what you heard,” Martin gevued. sald “7 Then he had what he welcomed as an inspira- tion. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” he went on. “Miss Jennings, will you let me introduce Mr> Max Lewis Babe sald she was delighted, and it seemed to that her enthusiasm was unfeigned. Apparently Lewis thought so, too. Anyhow, neither of them objected when Martin slipped away into the crowd. Later—but not until an hour or two later, going over the evening on foot, as it were—he was able to surmise that his complacency over the apparent suc- cess of this maneuver, getting rid of both Lewis and Babe with a single weli placed introduction, might have had something to do with his discomfiture in the scene which followed with Rhoda. She, of course, cg:lddn'ly hle;emkxw\or::l how much deeper he'd pling r affairs while she'd been finishing out the dance with Hi But it wasn't surprising if she'd when he came up and took her arm, detaching her from her most recent partner with barely a word, that his manner was assuming a deal too much, as if their friendship had been s matter of months rather than of minutes. He was aware that she looked at him little oddly as he started to lead her away, and he explained his action, ade- quately, he felt, by saying, “We've got to find some place where we can talk. Shan't we get out of this? I'll take you home, if you like.” At that she turned to stare at him, still half perplexed, but in rapidly mounting exasperation. “I don’t want to get out of this,” she sald. “I came here to dance,” Beforc ami~ speak she added, mare s’ ll” de can talk now, can't we' there's a place we can sit. sofa she took most ace in that hall, opposile The ‘hoad of one of he flighia of the d stairease. “This is all right, font it ane saked. “I suppose so,” he agreed discon- tentedly. “At least, it's got its back to the wail and no one can hear what we say without standing right in front of us and listening.” “But what have we dnna,n od, any! ‘Plenty,” he told her. “Of course, I don’t know how serious it is. You'll know better than I. It sounded to me n:: something you ought to oc told about.” ‘Sounded?’ Do you l;llll'l you heard ple talking about me?” pegl'll start ‘wlth something else,” he sald, after a moment's silence. “Do t to say,” she shouldn’t you remember asking me why I looked | funny when you told me your name was Rhoda, and my saying I had an cwld:‘tlon J""“w fl el h m’-pé?&fin it 't 5| ell, 1 have now. mmthe Iast week there's been an advertisement in the personal col- umn of the News for the address of Rhoda McPFarland, The reason I'd noticed it was that it was always & blind ad; the advertiser, I mean, never giving s own name.” ‘N gase, o Sharpress that sounded tered , & sharpness sount like ic audible in her voice, “what has t got te do with me: He wanted to say, “You are Rhoda McFarland, aren’t you?” but his nerve falled him. He didn’t try to answer her question, “Was it Rhoda McFarland you heard them talking about?” she asked, her voice now in better control, “and did you think there couldn't be more than one person named Rhoda?” ‘The ion of occupied the | Thy Ilhold of Le “T didn't hear name mentioned %‘ll!. Tl tell “’vmxmm mu bout herself as he'd tried to find out—but that he had got her first name. That name, apparently, cinched it, since the woman had already half- recognized your face—the girl's face, I mean, She noted the slip and pounced upon it angrily. * do Jou keep talking about me? What makes you think it has anything to do with me?” T heard the woman call him M he went on . “He was Max Lewis, all right. I got a look at him later. I don't know who the woman was. I didn't even see her properly. All T noticed about her was that she looked younger, somehow, than her voice had sounded. It came out in their talk that she’d been going by on the sidewalk just as—just as this girl they were looking for turned in. The woman thought she recognized her, got somehow, and had him come to the dance just to scrape an wgutlnunce with you. I can’t help it. I do think it was you they meant. I knew he told you his first name, but I didn’t know until then that you'd told tantly put in. “The my name to tonight ing about it.” & moment he thought she'd given in and admitted she was Rhoda Mc- Farland. He moved his hand to cover hers as he said, “Then it's my fault, really, that he found out, and that makes me the natural person to help you.” minded, * | helping He thought it wasn't his touch she l‘ghl& wasn't until he spoke of her that she snatched her hand . “But I don't need any help,” she th those people. I don’ know who Max Lewis is, but I don't be- lieve that he had any reason in the world for getting introduced to me; ex- cept that he thought I'd be nice to dance with. Her attitude relaxed a little and she smiled. “And I,” she went on, “thought that you'd be nicer to dance with. And you were, Come onl Let's dance some more.” “They were trying to find you,” he stubbornly persisted, “béfore somebody else did; somebody they are afrald of, or are trying to take advantage of; an old man they spoke of as ‘C. J’ Do you know who he is?” “I haven't the remotest idea in the world,” she said. “Can‘'t you see now 1t’s all nonsense?” “8it still another minute, anyhow, and listen to the rest of it. Then per- haps you won't think it's nonsense. “It ‘'was the woman who seemed most excited about you. She told Max it was his job to find out-where you lived ?wm. Bhe sald that as soon as they kfiew that they’d have C. J—whoever he is—where they wanted him. She sald there wasn't any time to waste, because you might see that ad in the paper and answer it.” ow, in furious exasperation, she eried: “I—I—I! hy do you keep talking about me? Why should I an- swer an. advertisement of Rhode Me- Farland? I won't. I'll tell you that much, anyway. And I won't let Max Lewis take me home, either, if that's any satisfaction to you.” “How will you keep him from follow- ing you home?" He saw she flinched at that and add- ed: “Let me go with you now. We can give them the slip. “Why nof “Because it’s all nonsense, weakly. “Because I want to stay and - dance.” “T'll tell you what Il do,” he said. “it won’t let me take you home, m llow you myself and see that he She was angrier than he now, apparently colder. - "Why are you anxious to find out where I live?” asked. “Because you think I'm McFarland? And there must be a i about me if I'm advertised for?"” _ It didn’t oceur to -him until quite’& bit later to wonder how she knew was porter. Suddenly he perceived tanding Tang up. to dance 3 before them. “Do you want me is one you?” she asked- - As Martin watched them dance off a chill misgiving blew over him thag: Rhoda might be right after all. - he noted, was dancing with Babe Jems ! nings with a_contented absorption s § explicable under the hypothesis that s - only interest tonight lay in hklna [3 following another 1 home. Martin perceived he turned awgy” disgustedly and went home himself. (Copyright, 1929.) o RADIO —I_N BUSINESS ROLE,{| Carries Commercial Disaptches Bes" tween East and West Coas SAN FRANCISCO, November 15 ; ~—The Mackay Radio & Telegraph Cagwi announces that direct radio service b tween San Francisco and New Yoff 3 City. will be begun today for tnnsmfii‘ sion of commercial and press dispatch The Radlo Corporation of Amerigs= has had a similar service between Neows- York and San Francisco sifice May opens an oz‘éer SERVICE STATION 24th & M Sts. N.W. 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