Evening Star Newspaper, September 22, 1935, Page 85

. Magazine Section request, the head waiter escorted her to our table. ““Marian, darling,” she breathed, “I'm so glad I found you. I telephoned your office and they said you were here."’ Marian introduced me. *‘Mrs. Bennington. this is Ned Barnes." Mrs. Bennington didn’t pay much attention to me. She was too full of her own affairs. “I'm sure you'll forgive me," she said, toss- ing me one of her ten dollar smiles, ‘“but Marian is my oldest and dearest friend, and when I'm in trouble I always turn to her.” The name, Seely H. Bennington, doesn't mean anything to you unless you live in San Francisco. Briefly, for the record and for - the benefit of non-residents, the Bennington family, about the time of the Civil War, dug its fortunes’ out of the earth from the land which belonged to a certain Captain Sutter. So did many other subsequently prominent San Franciscans. With the amassed and multi- plied millions the second and third generations of Benningtons have indulged nearly every -ambition and whim that human beings are apt to be stirred by. They own steamship lines, railways, vineyards, cattle, congressmen, hotels and even one newspaper. Yes, it is Seely H. Bennington who pub- lishes the “San Francisco Guardian' and there's only one thing the Guardian ever gets much excited about. That's us - the Star. During the short period of our existence we have won some of the Guardian's advertisers, half its circulation and all of its goat. We have also stolen its best cartoonists, sports writers and wire service. All in all, the fight makes western journalism just as exciting as it was in mining-camp days, except that we haven't used any pistols — vet. This Mrs. Bennington who bustled into our party was Seely H.'s second wife. She had been, previous to her wedding a couple of years ago, one of the Beekman sisters, two of the most beautiful girls on the west coast. Before her marriage she had also been a little wild, but it didn't make any difference — her » family was number one in the Social Register. I knew all about her even if she couldn't tell me from a Western Union messenger boy. She was lots younger than I thought she’'d be.- - probably about thirty,-- and sort of eager, the type of woman who is so afraid she’ll miss something that she seldom has time to get the full enjoyment out of the " experiences that come her way. It was a becoming breathlessness, though, and I sup- pose all very vital people are like that. She swept her exciting self into a seat at our table, which was in a benched recess. ‘“ Just let me sit and talk to you until it's time to go to the air-port."” THIS WEEK lllustrations by Harry L. Timmins “The air-port?”’ Marian Manning echoed. “Yes — I'm flying to Mexico at dawn, with Rusty.” Marian's eyebrows drew together at the mention of that nickname, and she cast an inquiring glance at me. She wondered if I knew who “‘Rusty’’ was. I did. He was, and is, Capt. Russell Downs, who holds a couple of world’'s records for speed in the air — as reckless a flyer as the army has ever turned out, and when Isay ‘‘turned out’’ that covers it both ways, because the army decided not so long ago that he was entirely too spectacular and, incidentally, too insubordinate to be entrusted with a government plane except in time of war. If there’s another scrap all will be forgiven. Marian knew that I could not be fooled, so she came out into the open. “If you must go to Mexico, what's the matter with the regular lines — or why fly at all? I shouldn't think Mr. Bennington would approve of that.” Mrs. Bennington laughed. “I hope not. I've been trying to think up the thing he'd approve of least in all the world and I think I've hit on it.” “Why?" *‘Oh my sainted aunt, why not? You aren't married to a jealous husband or you wouldn't ask why. We scrapped, that's all, at Mary Nelson's party,— just because I went out riding for a couple of dances with a man he doesn't like. I'm not going to spend all my life explaining every innocent little thing I do.” “But why drag Rusty into it?'’ Marian went on. I didn't dream she was such a good interviewer. ‘‘He's the man I cut the dances with and I thought it would be handy to have himalong.” There it was,— the complete story. I didn't need any more details. Just as it was I could stick a seven column banner headline on it and split the town wide open before breakfast. There was plenty of time for the news-stand edition. And would Marian and I be aces with the Old Man! Nothing would please him better than to have Bennington read about his wife's elopement in a Star exclusive. I must have looked at my watch or some- thing, and Marian probably caught it in a sidewise glance. Anyway, she stepped on my only corn. A Chinese bar-boy stood at my elbow. “Pliss, Misto Barnes on the tellyphone." I went to get the call. It was the office. Swager, on the copy desk, was a little excited. “The Old Man is here."” ““Where 2" “‘In the office. He ate some stewed roofing nails for supper and wants you for dessert. I thought you'd be pleased to know.” “I'm tickled to a bright crimson. Have the operator switch me on to him."” As soon as we were connected I heard the instrument crackling with static, but I beat him to the punch. “Got a great story, Chief. Miss Manning, our gossip reporter, brought in the tip and I'm following it up muyeelf. Delicate stuff, vou understand, and I think I can break it for the last editions Can't tell you details from where I'm talking, but you're going to like it."” Henderson growled “It better be good,'” and I managed to hang up on him. When I got back to the table Marian was talking to Mrs. Bennington like a first string dramatic critic. ‘Listen, Jane, you're going to be sorry about this." I wanted to jump in and tell her not to crab the story. but she threw me a look and went right on: ‘‘Remember the children.” Jane laughed. “Applesauce. Seely says I'm a rank failure as a mother anyway." “Then think of yourself. You know the kind of man Rusty is.” ““No, but I'm hoping to find out. Begin telling me.— you went around with him be- fore you became a working girl. Oh migosh, darling, is that Seely coming in the door?" I looked and I told her. “It is, and with him is Douglas Allet, managing editor of the Guardian.” ““Is there a back way out of this place?” “‘Yes, but I've never had to use it.”’ “Don't boast. Where is it?"’ “‘Come with me.” I'm a man of action, I hope, and besides I was afraid it would ruin the best scandal story of the year if her hus- band caught up with her any nearer than Mexico City. He saw us, of course, but we were in the alley and around the corner into Mrs. Ben- nington's car before he could get past the cook, who had five dollars of my pay resting in a pocket of his trousers. I will say the lady can drive, and San Francisco, with its roller coaster hills, is a town to bring out the best in anybody. The car was a roadster and we were sitting three in a seat, but Marian managed to whisper in my ear, ‘You're a darling.” “I'm a hell of a good newspaperman,” 1 muttered. “You wouldn’t print this?" “Why not?” ‘‘Jane's my best friend."” 9 It would be in red ink on the front page if it was my own grandmother who did it."” The atmosphere in the car chilled instantly, and Marian didn’t speak to me again until we arrived at the airport. Russell Downs wasn't in sight yet, but in a minute he came out of a hangar with a couple of mechanics, trundling a two-seater, Mrs. Bennington rushed to him. “Hurry, Rusty — Seely is following me here."” “Got to wait till we get the crate warmed up.” But he gave the necessary instructions to the ground crew. Then he saw Marian. ““You, too? Which one of you is going to St. Ives?” He spoke flippantly, but I could see that he was upset by the vision of Marian with that fine- spun gold hair of hers. ““You never asked me to go to St. Ives with you." “I mentioned every other place though, didn't 12" And then the big black nose of Mr. Ben- nington's car poked itself into the scene. I wondered if he had a gun. This was going to be a better story than I had hoped. Just in case, I took Marian’s arm to draw her out of the range of fire as he came up. But she shook off my hand impatiently and went right up to him. Douglas Allet lumbered into the background. N It was sweet of you to come, Mr. Benning- ton,” Marian cooed at him, not giving him a chance to talk at all. “When I asked Jane to come down and see us off, I never dreamed that she would tell you and have you surprise me this way.” ;: Bennington didn't understand. Neither did I, for that matter. Marian explained. *‘She did keep it a secret, then. But you might as well know now, be- cause I suppose you'll want to put it in your paper tomorrow —- that is, if you think Cap- tain Downs and I are important enough. I'm sure he is but —"' “‘What are you talking about, child?"” “About eloping to Mexico."” Mrs. Bennington butted in like an enraged werewolf. ‘‘Marian Manning, would you be- tray your best friend?"” Marian laughed. ‘‘I'm sorry, Jane. I know you wanted to tell him yourself, but I'm so full of excitement I couldn't keep it."” Bennington, bewildered and relieved all at once, turned to Captain Downs. ““Is this so?" (Continued on page 13) “Oh migosh, darling, is that Seely coming in the door ?”. UG LT T VR | (O )