Evening Star Newspaper, March 16, 1935, Page 23

MAGAZINE PAGE. THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D.:C., SATURDAY, MARCH 16, 1935. WOMEN’S FFATURES,” ss B-7% Housedress for the Matron BY BARBARA BELL. OUSE frocks that are really different come to us this season, with lines as youth- ful and flattering as those we have in our best shirt waist dresses. The one in the sketch has charm- ing little details, such as action pleats in the front, sleeves and skirt, and a triple arrangement of bows down the center closing of the waist. Collarless necklines offer practical advantages to women with' shorter, fuller throats. This one, cut in a becoming V, adds inches to the stature, and -appeals particularly on the score of simplicity. Every Summer wardrobe needs a supply of printed cotton frocks of this type. Fascinating materials suggest themselves for it—gingham, seer- sucker. percales, poplins. cotton broadcloth, the new calicos, men's shirtings and flocks of other wearable, washable novelties in the fabric list for house frocks. Peasant prints are reported as sat- isfactory and attractive Japanese designs in bright, strong greens, yel- lows. Teds, blues and tangerines are CHAPTER XXX. [ PASCUAL'S STORY. HE rage of the governor at this public thwarting had come to a white heat. The others of the crowd could see the girl refuse the immense honor he offered. to make her the queen of the festival by placing her at his side in the carriage, the humbling of Ignacio Estrada by making such an offer to a girl in the street—but none of them could have heard the murmur which she placed between two lines of her song. “Blood-drinker! Man-eating swine!” | She had said it for his ear only, and still smiling. The madness that entered his brain kept it whirling like black smoke. But through the crowd that came laughing around the girl. congratu- lating her, wondering over her, the | taller figure of the Kid stepped with a singular ease. He never seemed to jostle man or woman, but, as though' he knew magic spots where his feet should rest, he glided through the | press and came to her. There was something about this man, dressed like themselves, masked like themselves, that made the other youths lose heart, and they gave back a trifle from around him as though they wanted to hear him and see him better. For he had begun to sing in a good, rich, ringing baritone, that fan- tastic old Castillian song, “Weave Me | a Mantle” With the very first! strains, the girl struck up the ac- companiment on her guitar and gave ! the song her own voice, so that they walked on slowly. surrounded by their | own music as by a wall of quiet, | leaning their heads a little to one' another. | So long as the song continued, the | crowd kept its distance, moving slowly [ with the slow pace of the singers, but as the song ended the tide of the! festival rushed over the place, and the ! level-streaming heads began to bob| irregularly up and down again. | So, in a moment, the girl and Mon- | tana were more alone. more private | in that crowd, than they would have been in the most secret of gardens. She caught at his arm so that she | walked close to his side, but she sai with her face upturned to him: “If you knew me—if you knew what I have, done—" “I"saw Estrada pull his hat over| his eyes.” “But before—long before—there is # thing I have done—" “Look!” said the Kid. He held a gold piece in his hand. ; “This is the past,” said he. “Watch t!” And he tossed the coin high over his head, so that it winked in the light of the lanterns. She, over her shoulder, saw the| gold flicker, arch up, fall. And the slim hands of a girl flashed up and caught it. Fosita laughed. She had no envy for that lucky finder! 5 “That's the past—and let it go!” said Montana. “Do you know?” she asked. “Enough to make it worth the for- getting,” said Montana. “Governors come and governors go, but Montana rides forever,” said the girl | + They began to laugh together unth! | “I can't tell you. dummy—West gave some SOI't of en- | | run down. Contract BY P. MAL SIMS. Mr. Sims is universally acclaimed the greatest living contract and auction player. He was captain of the r_ennwncd “Four Horsemen” team, now disbanded, and has won 24 mational champion- ships since 1924. These articles are based on the Sims system, which includgs the one-over-one principle, which the Sims group of players was the first to employ and develop. Un\;locking. ‘The bidding: North T T. (B! East. Pass. Pass, 1. Wants to place no trump decla- ration in his hand, because of two | guarded kings 2. Planning to sign off with three clubs over two no trumps. | 3. North doesn't give him lmi chance. North might have bid lf“)i spades, and then three no trumps over three clubs. East started off on the right foot| by openfng the jack of hearts. The| declarer won with the queen in N Pass West. Pass. Pass couraging signal—and played b_uk a spade. When East was in with the queen, he didn't sce any reason o shift suits. The ten of hearts was won by North’s ace and the spade suit | | the mode of the moment. quire simple cutting to appear advantage, hence we recommend them for this type of frock. for they seldom soil, and when they do they wash beautifully. When dark, sturdy colors are used in frocks, light IpansI add enormously to their chic. £ Barbara Bell pattern No. 1436-B is designed in sizes 34, 36. 38. 40, 42, 44, 46, 48 and 50. Size 36 requires 3!, yards of 36-inch material. This dress is made from a 7-piece pattern (long sleeves given also). | FEvery Barbara Bell pattern in- cludes an illustrated instruction guide | which is easy to follow. | They re- | to| BARBARA BELL Washington Star. Inclose 25 cents in coins for Pattern No. 1436-B. Size..... | | Name ..ovevvneenniinnniasienes Address .......oe0 | | (Wrap coins securely in paper.) | | (Copyright 1935 1 he cried out: “There's Brother Pas-| cual grinning his big grin over the| heads of the people! What & man that is. Rosita! Let's go to him. be- cause he can tell me about Rubriz—" She made the Kid pause. | You don't know about Rubriz?" | she gasped. She began to read his face from | side to side. up and down. as though | somewhere in it she must find the | knowledge. “I don't know. What is it>” “God forgive me!" cried the girl. | No one dares to | speak of it, but everyone knows— Brother Pascual—he can tell you.” “Rubriz?” said Montana, “Has| something happened to him? Ma- | teo?"” | He looked down at the agony in the eyes of the girl and then he went rapidly, cutting through the crowd by strength and adroitness, drawing the girl through the easy safety of his wake. When he came up to the friar he said two words at the shoulder of the giant, whose eves were so filled with the noise and laughter of the crowd that they overflowed with a sort of blind brightness. Every honest hap- piness that came to his fellow men was as two happinesses tg that good fellow. But at the voice of Montana he turned suddenly and threw up his hand as though to defend himself from an attack. Afterwards he crushed the wrist of the Kid with a terrible grasp. “El Keed!” he whispered. “Be quiet—people are staring, brother,” cautioned the girl. “Rubriz—tell me. abotit Mateo!” urged Montana. Behind the town, in that little sandy hollow where Montana had left the red mare, the three stood while Brother Pascual told to Montana a tale that curdled his blood. Not everything was known. n only knew how the great Rubriz had fallen to numbers and chance; how he had lain in the hands of the gov- ernor for a single day; and how he had been brought out of the fort dur- Me ha changed, perhaps a ruined, man. He had been placed in a carriage. Few had seen. But there had been a glimpse of a limply sagging form, | arms and legs over which there was| 8reat. bright disk again, no control, the head hanging weakly ovel;k to the side. Like a body newly dead, except th: the eyes were living, G That was how the girl repeated words she had heard. And m:;‘ the closed carriage had sped away on the southern trail. *“Where?" groaned Montana. “Where could they have taken him? What | have they done with him, Pascual?” “They have taken him where I am going to follow,” said the friar quietly, “but where it would be foolish for you | to go, my friend. Foolish for me, also, but since Rubriz is dying for the sake of the church, I must go to join him. “Dying?” echoed Montana. “Don’t you see?” put in the girl. “There’s only one place that a devil like Estrada would send him. To the Valley of the Dead.” The name came over Montana like a horrible nightmare out of an al- most forgotten sleep. He had he#rd East, who was really a bright sort of chap—witness his opening lead— made the correct discard of two low diamonds. I was North, and at this point the contract looked a trifle sick. I still had the chance for an end play. however. I led the king of clubs. East won with the ace and exited with his last heart, which I won with the king West had followed the correct line of defense also. He had a high heart, the blank queen of diamonds and two | clubs to the ten spot. | I led a club toward .the queen and | Fast fell from his high pedestal. He plaved a low club. I threw him in with the jack of clubs and forced him to concede a trick to my diamond king. | Had East unblocked with the jack of clubs, my last, desperate play for the contract would have failed. West would have been on the lead with the ten of clubs and the opposition could take the last three tricks with their eyes shut. sesat | Tomorrow's Hand. | | | | | | | Almost any defense will set East's | four-spade contract. For example, the opening spade lead of the ace | and another spade. South may be | excused for failing to make that opening. but we can't forgive him for his subsequent defense on the hand (Copyrigh: 1935 ) Mr Sims will answer all inquiries on con- tract that are addressed to this newspader with self-addressed. stamped envelope Jolly Polly A Little Chat on Etiquette BY JOS. J. FRISCH. | | THE HEIRESS WHO 15 DOWN T | | HER LAST MILLION 1S TO BE PITIED < =5 | | i I E. C. A—When the maid opens the | door for a caller, the caller says, “Mrs. Jones, please.” If the caller is familiar | with the place she goes right into the | living room; otherwise she waits for | the maid to lead the way. Send a 3-cent stamped envelope for the leaflet “Manners in Public.” of it before. All men in Mexico had heard of it, but it was a thing net ©» be whispered, not to be thouzht “We go together!” said Moniana. But he hardly heard his own voice or believed that he had spoken. “Pascual!” moaned the girl. “1 told you what he would say! I told you that he would go. And I shall go also, then!” “Hush!” said the friar. “You are a child. And what could you do?” They went south through the moun- tains, over the green plains, into a stricken land where runninz water was no longer found. Instead. there were standing pools or “tanks” of water that was foul with scum. filled with twisting, jerking forms of insect life. They had to dig shallow trenches a yard from the margin of these stink-holes and let the water se<p in, purified a little by the filter through which it had run. But even when it had been strained in this slow and careful manner, that water would | ing the middle of the next night a|8row unbearably foul in half a day’s ride under the southern sun. It was the sun that possessed the world, and no one who had journeyed through that country could iove the not even if he found himself again in the ccid north, where it is a friend. Here it filled the entire sky with intolerable light, and it blazad up again from the pale soil and the hot rocks. Even the cactus was burned brown at the edges and all the thorns were black, tempered iron. The only other growth lay on the ground like gray smoke. There was no life for the eye and there was no sound for the éar. All was furnace by day, and, in the night, a black pit with the stars burning thin and far away through the dusty air. They had the feeling that they were not on a surface, but inside some AMmml‘dn or two, not even Mon- tana was capable of much speech, and the songs with which he had ch;:rd.ed the first part of the journey en Montana learns the horrible story of the Valley of Death, tomofrow. Dorothy Dix Says “World Needs Good Cooks More Than Secretaries!” Advice to Women Choosing Career EAR MISS DIX—My home D and interfering mother-in-| to support myself and a 6-year-old son. Before marriage I was has been broken up by a tyrannical law, and it is now necessary for me a $40-a-week secretary, but if I return to the business world I suppose, I'll be lucky to get $20 in my pay envelope. Since keeping house I have learned to be a fairly good cook, and like cooking very much. My problem is this: Shall I brush up on secretarial work or take a course in domestic science so as to be an excellent cook? My one thought in getting a position as cook is that my son may be with me most of the time. Which is my best bet? MRS. SECRETARY-COOK. Answer: I am afraid I cannot advise you impartially, because my taste also runs to cooking, and I would rather perform on a gas range than a typewriter any day. It seems to me, however, that domes- tic work offers a field that is especially its own to women and which they can fill to greater advantage than almost any other. And it is a flield that offers particular opportuniies to women of intelligence and education, because most of the workers in it have little skill and knowledge, and no ambition to do fine work. A blesses with her presence, and as GOOD cook is not, just a kitchen mechanic. She is an artist. She is & chemist. She is the guardian angel of every home which she soon as her virtues become known she does not have to seek for an employer; he comes to her. And her pay, considering that she gets her board and keep and has few expenses for clothes, Rdds up to more than the average office worker. The woman who keeps a boarding house and who is thereby en- abled to house and feed and keep with her a brood of children or her parents, as so many do. cou never have hoped to earn a salary that would support them unless she had some very great talent. ND even if she had been able to earn the money outside of her home it would have necessitated neglecting the children . turning them over to strangers to rear, separating herself from them and de- priving herself of the happiness of being with them, and then of the privilege of having a real mother. You must, of course, decide your own problem, but if T were in your place I'd make myself a crackerjack cook and start some sort of little eating place. People will always go where there is superlatively good food. DOROTHY DIX. (Copyright 1935,) —\)\/E Arer You? Romance of YOH" Name. BY RUBY HASKINS ELLIS. € o) f 'l Hazeltine originated from “hazel-den.” meaning a place where hazel bushes grew. evidently assumed by one who lived in such a locality. After becoming a sur- name it took on many forms of 'l‘HlS surname jorthography, Heselton, Hazeldean, | Hazleton and Hazletine. Robert Hazeltine was one of the first of this name to put in an ap- pearance in the American Colonies. He was among the group of pilgrims who came over from Yorkshire and Devonshire, England, under the lead- ership of Rev. Ezekiel Rogers, arriv- ing in Salem. Mass. in 1637. These sturdy pioneers at once set themselves to the task of clearing land for their settlement, which re- sulted in the town of Rowley. Rob- ert Hazeltine became a freeman in Massachusetts in 1640. His brother, John Hazeltine, located in Haver- hill. Mass. The coat of arms reproduced was borne by these early settlers. It is emblazoned “Gules, a cross patonce or. On a chief azure, three round buckles of the second. Crest—a tal- bot's head argent.” | The cross in heraldry signifies ac- tivity in the Holy Wars. or devotion to the church. The buckles indicate the girding on of the armor in the cause of righteousness. Nature’s BY LILLIAN Texas Wildcat. Lynx ruffus texensis. AVE you ever noticed how ap- propriate the names given to the outdoor folks by the In- dians are? Take “Pee-shoo, Wwild Man of the Woods," given to the lynx, handsome cousin to the wildcat. Could any name be better? If you have ever heard the blood-curdling caterwaul of the bob- cat in the middle of the night, you can sympathize with the little creatures that hide in fear and trembling under the cover of brambles or low growth. There are still many of these crea- | tures roaming through the woods of Eastern North America and in the West. Like so many of our native | animals, they are gradually disappear- ing. Once bobcats were to be found in all the thick woods of our country. Their last stand is now in the back- woods. These stub-tailed hunters are not skillful trail-hitters. Neither have they the speed or endurance of their neighbors, the foxes or weasels. In fact, they are the “watchful-waiters,” lying in ambush, ready to spring upon their victim when opportunity pre- sents itself. Let the slightest noise be heard, and their hearing is excel- leni, they crouch with all four legs under them ready to spring. Like all cats, they go still hunting. They can be seen in pairs as they a0 | on velvet-shod feet seeking the small animals of field and woods, who are so intent upon their own affairs they forget to be on guard. In the twilight of early dawn or evening the bobcat comes forth to hunt. During the day he has either slept in his cozy nest, or in Summer Children stretched out on a bough to enjoy a sun bath. As he strides silently for- ward he lets out his hair-raising scream. This is for the purpose of scaring the wits out of the small animals, whose nerves are not strong enough to stand the strain, so they | bolt. During the Winter these hunters stalk grouse, hares and any animals | abroad. They are great mousers, de- | stroyers of birds and lovers of catnip. While naturally shy, they fight savagely when their children are in | danger. a cozy nest, from two to four of them, | playful kittens who tame easily, but retain many of their forest habits. Color and size is the only noticeable | difference between the related species. | This member is a chestnut brown | above, well spotted with black. The | sexes look alike. In coloring your illustration you can get a very clear idea as to this hunt- er's appearance. Don't forget his | handsome ruff on the side of his head and his whiskers. :f,"flpynkhl 14 Y Modes of the Moment he shirtmakers in ag'afn —but in coritrasting colors. 5 \;//'///4 ‘The youngsters are born in | Sonnysayings BY FANNY Y. CORY. Hi! Tommy! Are you a Irish? (Copyright. 1 Meteor Dangers. F ALL the thousands of me- teor cinders which have struck the earth, I have heard of only one case of a person being killed by them; but in other cases, narrow escapes have been reported. One reader told me of a meteor which broke through a window in a railway coach, but did no harm to any one. Every day and every night of the year the earth is “bombarded” with meteors. Most of them, I am glad to say, are worn to ashes before they reach the ground. Some persons still speak of me- teors as “shooting stars” or “falling | stars,” but those are not good names. Meteors are not stars—if they were, a single one would blast the earth to bits. Bedtime Johnny Takes a Dare. Some people can’t refuse a dare. E'en though they know 'tis most unfair —Peter Rabbit ETER RABBIT and Johnny Chuck sat under a big hickory tree on the edge of the Green Forest watching Happy Jack Squirrel nimbly climbing and jumping about in the tree, as muck at home there as they were on the ground. Peter had wished that he could climb and had asked Johnny if he ever wished that. Johnny had promptly replied that he could climb. “oh, I know you can climb up on a fence post and a little way up in a small tree,” replied Peter, “but I don't call that realy cimbing.” “It is more than you can do,” de- clared Johnny. Peter was forced to admit that this was true, He couldn’t climb and there was no use in pretending that he could. “It seems funny to me some- times what a difference there is be- tween members of the same family, said Peter reflectively. “Meaning what?” demanded Johnny Chuck. “Well, you and Happy Jack Squirrei belong to the same family, don’t you! asked Peter. I suppose we do.” admitted Johnny, “but two different branches, quite dif- ferent branches, Why?” | “Oh, nothing much,” replied Peter. “It just seems funny that one cousin is al home in a tree even way up in the top, and another cousin is afraid to get more than few feet off the ground.” “Who says I'm afraid?” Johnny Chuck angrily. Peter, remembering how Johnny had driven away a Dog larger than him- self, backed up somewhat ha G didn’t say so0.” he protested. * | The 7Debunk_ér BY JOHN HARVEY FURBAY.Ph.D. demanded Meteors, as a rule, are small. Many | are smaller than a baseball. Larger a room in a house; and a few of really great size are believed to have struck the earth. ‘Thousands of millions of meteors exist in space. They appear to re- volve about the sun. It is likely that some. if not all, are parts of broken comets. When a meteor strikes the air around the earth, the meteor is “rubbed” until it becomes very Its temperature rises to 10,000 degrees or more. As a result, we may see a “streak of fire” in the sky at night and persons who do not know the facts may think that a “star” is falling Meteors probably strike the earth as often in the daytime as at night: but they are plainly in view after dark If vou study the sky aimost any night you will see one or more meteors treak the sky. Sometimes there are “meteor showers.” IF GIAN1T METEORS SHOULD STRIKE NEW YORK CITY. Twenty-seven years ago a giant meteor, or swarm of meteors, landed in a lonely section of Siberia. It is estimated that 40.000 tons of stone | and metal struck the soil. Hundreds of trees were knocked down by the force of the blow. What would have happened if the Siberia meteor. or meteor swarm, had struck New York City? Tall buildings might have been knocked to pieces. The lives of many human beings, no | doubt would have been lost. Meteors are a danger to us, at least a slight danger: but there is no use letting them worry us. far more dangerous to our lives. (For travel section of your note- | book.) The leaflet called “Marvels of the Sky” contains a diagram showing sizes of the planets and their distance from the sun. It tells about Donati's comet and other wonders. If you want | a copy, without charge, send a 3-cent stamped return envelope to me in care of this paper. UNCLE RAY. Pointed Paragraphs. If common sense will not teach a young man etiquette, a book on the subject is of little use. A great man is seldom taken at his true value, but lots of others will sell out for more than they are worth. When & woman goes shopping the pitch of her voice depends on whether she is asking for silk or cotton. A domestic broil is not a very sat- isfactory thing for dinner. If you have talent for criticism don’t fail to use it on yourself. The man who gives himself away frequently isn't necessarily charitable. Counterfeit money has no redeem- ing traits. You can't get footnotes out of the shoehorn. The life work of some pegple seems to be criticizing others. A man seldom exhibits his temper until after he loses it. Banana-Pineapple Rounds. Place six pineapple slices on crisp lettuce leaves. Slice two bananas and cover with one-third cupful of lemon juice. Allow to stand for five min- utes in the refrigerator, then drain. Arrange a circle of banana slices around the outside edge of each pine- apple slice. Pile two cupfuls of white grapes, halved and seeded, in the cen- ter of each slice. Garnish with mara- schino cherries. Serve with mayon- naise, thinned with a little of the fruit juice. Housecleaning. A great help when cleaning house is a large paint brush that you can use for dusting window sills, both in- side and outside; all baseboards and corners, sewing machine pedals, around gas pipes and many other places. You will find it much quicker and more thorough than [} cloth or other brushes, hot Motor cars are | | ones may have the size of a house or | IT DOES NOT HARM ACLOCK TO TURN THE HANDS BACKWARD \\'HEN I was a child I was told that t1 ng the hands backward on a clock would ruin the clock. One day, when I was at home, I tried it |and to my surprise, the clock seemed not to mind it at all. Later a jew- eler and clockmaker told me that there was nothing to the idea about turning the hands backward. I have questioned other watchmakers since then and they all have told me the same thing (Copyright 1935 Stories BY THORNTON W. BURGESS. | the same I don't believe you dare climb this tree, even if you can.” Such a look as Johnny gave Peter. Then he walked straight over to the foot of that tree, for a moment stood looking up, then stood up, gave a little spring, flattened himself against the trunk, dug his claws in and hugging the trunk and digging his claws in, scrambled up until at last he reached the first branch, which happened to be not far above the ground. Pulling himself up on this Johnny looked down in triumph at Peter. “So I don't dare,” said Johuny. “Pooh!” exclaimed Peter disdain- fuily. “I don't call that climbing. I've seen you climb as high as that. I would dare get up there myself if T could, but I can't. Lets see you climb up where your cousin is now. You don't dare.” -\ “WHO SAYS I'M AFRAID?" DE- MANDED JOHNNY CHUCK, ANGRILY. Johnny Chuck looked up. Happy Jack was two-thirds the way up that tree, higher than Johnny had ever dreamed of going. He looked down at Peter. Peter was grinning in & most provoking way. Johnny gritted his teeth “Thinks I'm afraid, does he? Thinks I don't dare climb up there. I'll show him!" he muttered to himself. Then Johnny Chuck once more started to climb. Just here the branches were near together and it was easy to climb from one to another. Presently Johnny came to one that grew out and upward from the trunk, a big limb. He started up this. “What are you trying to do? You can't climb that! Are you crazy? Go back down on the ground where you belong.” cried Happy Jack from just above him “Just mind your own business, Cousin.” retorted Johnny Chuck. “Pe- ter Rabbit says I can't climb and don't dare to. I'm just showing him. He thought I wouldn't take his dare.” “Well, if you ask me, you better not." said Happy Jack. 1 haven't asked you replied Jobnrey Chuck and kept on his way. (Copyright. 1935.) Cake Hint. When making dark cakes. especially jam cakes, coffee may be used in the place of milk. giving a delicious flavor. The coffee should be fairly strong. and may be used either hot or cold DAILY SHORT STORY. MUTE BETRAYAL With the Lie Detector Cleverly Concealed, the Two Waited Impatiently for the Victim. BY MARY FAITH GEARY. OMMY FLYNN and I had been working hand in glove on this rackets stuff for months. Tommy eyeing a lieuten- ant’s job in the § Detective Bureau and I -wishing to knock the city edi- tor cold by break- ing the stol of who really was be- | hind the series of truck kijackings. | When I got to | Francisco's barber and beauty shop I didn't need to ask the boss where Tommy was. He had been pretty sweet on Julie Dean for a long time, so I ducked past Francisco and the other two bar- bers and into Ju- lie's little manicure booth. I yanked back the drape that shielded the booth from the shop out- | side, and there was the pride of the | plain clothes force, leaning over Julie's manicure table, attaching little metal cups to two wires that stuck up Slapped him was sitting in the corner of the booth | watching Tommy. I figured out what Tommy Wwas doing without asking him. because I could see that the wires led down the table leg, under the carpet and into the little janitor's closet that opened out of the far wall of the booth. On the floor of the cioset I could see a familiar box-like gadget. It | was part of a portable lie detector, the pride of Tommy's eye, but which he had never had an opportunity to prove. I kept quiet until finished. When the cups were tached he turned to me. “Something big?"” I asked him. Might be.” he said Tommy always a deliberate fellow. “Anyhow,” he added, “we have to work fast.’ He walked over to Julie’s chair, leaned over, and took both her hands. “Going to be afraid, honey?” “Not with you there in the closet— and Jim, too,” she said, giving me an impish grin. “That's the girl” said Tommy. “Just feed him the questions like I told you.” He took my arm and we went into the closet, closing the door. Tommy had tested me with the lie detector before, so I knew how it worked. He'd had me stick a finger into each of the bowls, which were filled with salt water. Then he fiddled with a dial on this box-like contrap- tion I'd seen from outside. When he had the pointer at zero on the dial he'd ask me a lot of questions. When he caught me in a lie the dial pointer would jump way up the scale—10, 20, 30 points. I didn't bother Tommy now but just sat there in the dark until he had his little pointer set to his sat- isfaction. Then I whispered: “Who's the victim?” “Beauty Mader.” he told me. “He comes here regularly for a mani- cure.” It was clever how Tommy had figured to get Beauty's fingers into the bowls. He had told Julie to ask the Beauty to try out some cuticle softener and, while his fingers were supposedly softerling, she would sling Tommy had at- through the porcelain table top. Julie | ___ some pointed ques- tions concerning his recent where- abouts—subtly, of course. I knew she wouldn't have any trouble getting him to try the cuticle softener. He was a conceited, dap- per little hoodlum and we'd suspected him for & long time, Tommy had never taken Beauty down to headquar- ters for a ques- tioning because he was afraid that would scare off the brains of the gang—whoever he might be. “Do you figure Beauty was in on the stick-up Tues- day mnight?” I asked softly. “I couldn't say.” Tommy's voice was calm, but I could feel his arm quivering. I think right then he was more arxious to prove his lie detector than he was to make an arrest. That Tuesday stick-up had really been a honey. The usual attack on a truck by an armed gang in a tour- ing car, but this time the truck driver had put up a fight. One big plug-ugly had slapped him over the head with something, then they had ditched him in a pile of bushes along- side the road. The driver hadn't been hurt badly, but the next day he'd broken out with a fearful body rash. He swore the gang had poisoned him, until a doctor told him he had poison ivy, and then the driver remembered the bushes. I'd written & whale of a feature about it. While I was sif over the head. ing there chuckling over my own wit Tommy suddenly grabbed my arm. Some one had come into the manicure booth. Good old Julie didn’'t keep us in suspense. “Hello, Mr. Mader.” she called. loud enough for Tom and me to hear her easily. “Come for your manicure? Oh!" Julie’s voice broke off on a note of disappointment. “Naw, no manicure today,” came the apologetic voice that I recognized as Mader’s. Tommy grabbed my arm in the excitement. What the devil? All Tommy's planning would go to pot unless Julie got Mader’s fingers into those bowls. I was fairly fitching | to open the door and peek outside. But Julie was as good as an in- terlocutor. “Won't you sit down anyway?” “Thanks,” the Beauty answered. “I was going to—anyway. Just be- cause I got sore hands is no reason | we can't visit, eh, Gorgeous?" “Whatever happened to your hands, 4 Mr. Mader?” Julie asked. | “I got an’ infection while I was— | uh—fishin’ the other day. Got to : keep them bandaged. See? Poison ivy.” Well, the lie detector was broken /by an aspiring young lieutenant of | detectives and an anxious newspaper reporter, both trying to be the first | through the door to question one of | the principals in the current hijack- | ing epidemic. (Copyright. 1935.) Tomorrow: They had quarreled (and Tony was speeding her home | when the crash occurred. Read the | outcome in “Blind to Love,” by Frank ! Kern Levin. ~