Evening Star Newspaper, September 9, 1936, Page 11

INSTALLMENT I ARTIES, it occurred to Black- wood, not for the first time, were principally stupid. Not vicious. Nots immoral. Just stupid. And he himself was a stupid oaf to lend himself to any such per- formances. Because his ‘name ap- peared over & column of stage gos- sip every morning, because he re- viewed bad plays in season, he was supposed to be a celebrity. If this was the reward of fame—lying around in dinner clothes, drinking cocktails, making risque remarks to ultra-so- phisticated young women, kow-towing to dowagers who were quite ob- viously dead but not yet buried, watch- 1ng a lot of sapheads thump &nd bump one another in a room too small for dancing—why, then, to the devil with fame! He could do without it. He said as much to Mrs. Hume, his hostess, without quite reproducing the actual words that ran in his cynical mind. “Aren’t you the polite thing!” she reproached him. But she was not really annoyed. The lovely widow was not pricisely a fool, and there were times when she wondered about that sort of thing herself. “Not you, of course,” said Black- wood, untruthfully and a bit irrele- vantly. “Nor me,” he grinned. “Just the others, eh? The living dead— *duppies,” I think they are called in burst into robust melody. Zelds Lan- sing, tired of standing, had leaned across them and produced the miracle “Well, here we go again!” The shuffle of feet was resumed and they swung away in the congestion THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D. T, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1936. had found some new and seductive admirer and had lingered in her com- pany. It was suggested that he might even have her with him. Zelda Lan- sing seemed annoyed by the sugges- tion. She headed a group of guests gave him an appearance of perpetual surprise. It was whispered that he had them plucked. For a moment he stood framed within the doorway. Then he spoke. “This is Percy Jones,” said Percy Jones, exhaustively. “How do you do, ladies and gentlemen? I bring you music and happiness.” The words were the opening sentences of his most popular program. His satellites fell upon him with rapturous enthusiasm. They hustled him and shook his hand witnh flat- tering ' presumption. It was several seconds before any of them noticed that his blond beauty had been faintly marred. “Darling!” breathed Zelda Lansing. “What's happened to your face?” bone, beginning just below the eye. It | didn’t mean to be so late. I" was beaded with tiny particles of dried blood. Percy Jones dabbed at it with a [ Riley! Not leaving, I hope? Well, I'm handkerchief and grinned a crooked | here at last. rin. “Sorry, Janice,” he apologized. “I 1 wondered for a time whether I was going to make it.” He tossed his light overcoat across ve had a | the back of a chair and stood a gor- | cute Ilitt ” most delightful adventure. Ah, there, | geous stick beside it in the entry. ar e s bk the ‘Arabian Night'! nothing; a kitten gave it to me.” The scratch is| “Who?” “Did she want your name in heri Mis Archer’s suggestion was sweetly g “Quite charming, really. Talk about | gravating. “The kitten."” (To Be Continued.) R Wt e oo o that's why she smokes a TAREYTON —It is ’ no Blotter @ Her lips are always soft and pretty. Never soft, mozs? p dry or coarse. And her lipstick is never “messed up”. For she’s a careful smoker. She knows that cigarette paper acts like a blotter. And so she always chooses Tareyton. A Tarey- ton cork tip resists moisture. It doesn’t stick to your lips—doesn’t absorb lipstick —doesn’t dry out your lips. Moreover, it prevents loose ends, never gets soggy and doesn’t taste pa- Haiti. They don't know they're dead. of course. That’s the trouble. They don't know anything.” The room was foggy with the thin smoke of cigarettes and noisy with the strains of somebody’s famous or- chestra. 7 Mrs. Hume exposed her attractive knees. “You are in a pleasant frame of mind, aren't you?” she said. *“What's wrong, Riley, my love? Has She added:.“Percy Jones will be here somebody failed to understand you?” | {7 2 [ | ) A i | pery. Try Tareyton. There’s something about at midnight and then things will wake U, Midnight and Percy Jones,” smiled Riley Blackwood. “They are prac- tically synonymous. It's a sort of stage | direction—Enter Percy on the l.!.l!flI stroke of the hour.’ All over the city parties await his coming. Nommgl really begins until midnight any more. And all because Percy's broadcast du- ties cease at 11:30. By Jove,” said Mr. Blackwood, reverently, “there is| fame for you!” “You're jealous, darling,” said Mrs. Hume. She glanced at her jeweled wrist watch. “In point of fact, it is almost 11:30 now. We must get him on the radio. Everybody wiil ex- pect it.” “Including Percy,” agreed Riley Blackwood, stretchng his long legs. *All right, Janice, I'll make myself useful.” He rose from the brocaded love seat in the alcove on which they had been sitting and strode out among the dancers, threading his way toward the expensive instrument that occu- pied a corner of the larger room. ‘The radio was blaring “Little lJump | of love, good night,” and the dancers, in close embrace, were whispering the | words into each other's-ears. A chair was vacant immediately beside the in- strument and Blackwood dropped into it. He seized the button of the dial| and gave it a savage twist. “This is Percy Jones,” said Percy Jones exhaustively. “How do you do, ladies and gentlemen? I bring you music and happiness.” program. The words were the opening sentences of his most popular | of dancers. There were other things that Blackwood would rather have been doing; but he was clever enough at dancing when he had nothing more important on his mind. The strains of the dance melody vanished and & succession of raucous sounds filled the chamber. | “...twice & day,” said the radio; *“in the morning and just before you g0 to bed.” The nearest dancers turned re- proachful eyes upon him. Again he twisted the miraculous button and brought forth, in turn, a conversation in what was supposed to be German dialect, the closing whisper of a tenor swoon song and a crash of artillery, which in a moment resolved itself into 8 barn dance with & single screeching fiddle and a strident announcer. “Oh, for the love of Mike, Riley!”| protested a masculine voice near the window. The other dancers waited | for him to be done with his horse- | play. They waited coldly, with bitter animadversion and advice. “Next week, ‘East Lynne.” said Blackwood informatively, and contin- ‘ued his calisthenics with the dial. On the whole, he rather hoped he was annoying everybody. “Oh, he's trying to get Percy Jones,” eried Daisy Archer. “Hurry, Mr. Blackwood, or he’ll be off the air!” “Fat chance,” said Mr. Blackwood. He settled the indicator on the proper figure and rose upright. “My friends.” he mocked, “I have the honor to pre- sent to you the world’s greatest living radio announcer, in his incredible im- personation ,of himself. The next voice you hear will be that of Percy Jones. Don't push, girls.” ‘The dancers were finding seats with noisy alacrity. Then a hush fell sud- denly upon the room, into which al- ready a suave and patronizing voice was beginning to insinuate itself. “. . . in all lovely and majestic things. Poignantly to reveal the mean- ing and beauty, the joy and the tragedy of human life, has been the aim of all creative artists, in what- ever field they may have labored. Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the end of another week, the forty-second week of this series of broadcasts by local artists. Tomor- row being Sunday we shall take our customary night off, to retarn to you again on Monday evening at the usual hour. Until then, au revoir and happiness to you all. Your announcer is Percy Jones. This is the WKKK Alr Theater, Tip Top Building, Chi- cago.” Another voice attempted to make itself heard, but Blackwood neatly nipped in the bud. “In half an hour,” he observed, “the party will officially begin. Radio, Miss Archer, is a wonderful thing. I hold & theory that sound is never lost. I mean, it goes on piling up somewhere in a corner of space, as water runs into a depression and collects there. Imagine it! If we were to find it and —er—kick it around a bjt—what do Jou suppose we'd hear?” “Tell me,” said Daisy Archer. “Chaos,” said Riley Blackwood sol- emnly. “Fragments of Liszt and Gershwin, amazing offers from the bargain basements, Amos and Andy tangled in the Lithuanian hour—and Percy Jones whispering ‘au revoir and happiness’ across the interstellar “What an imagination!” said Miss Archer, . symphony;” said Riley “What a Blackwood. She laughed, “He does have & beau- titul voice, don’t you think? Quite perfect?” “Quite! I'm afraid that's my objec- tion to it. It's hardly human.” divine,” said Miss Archer. ‘That, of course, is what I meant,” #aid Blackwood. He wrapped a long arm around her, as again the radio A | night. Then the minutes began to run and, almost suddenly, it was mid- An unpleasant voice, quite unlike the mellifiuous utterance of Percy Jones, was announcing the ad- vent of another day. It seemed more than probable that this new day was being brought to the world with the compliments of a famous watch com- pany. . Blackwood deposited his partner in a chair and went in search of refresh- ment. He was tired of the thin mouth | wash in the public punch bowl, but in the butler's pantry he found a bottle of fair Bourbon and in the refrigerator a bottle of ginger ale, which he seized without scruple. No servants were about; they had been sent to bed, he supposed. #e returned to Daisy Archer and cheered her with the spoils of his expedition. “No sign of Percy, eh?” he com- mented. “The beggar’s late. But cheer up, child; he never misses. No more dancing, if you please! I'm going shortly. Well, here’s to your eyes!” ‘They disposed of the stolen liquids. “And now I must say good night to our hostess.” Crossing the room, however, among the chattering groups of interrupted dancers, he encountered Constantine the novelist, wandering lonely as a cloud. He rather liked Constantine who moved swiftly toward the door.l ‘Well, well, thought Riley Blackwood, In the midst of a lively babble the | pausing in his sneak, to view the spec- popular celebrity made his entrance— | tacle. So somebody had taken a poke a fair-haired young man with eye- |at Percy, at last! A diagonal scratch brows so curiously arched that they | lay across the paragon’s right cheeke / DONT BELIEVE IV BARGAINS and for a moment he felt sorry for |- him. 1In the end he was sidetracked for 20 minutes. Then Archie Dunning, a nuisance, got him for 10 more. It was, in consequence, precisely 18 minutes of the hour when he reached the side of Janice Hume and an- . | nounced his impending departure. “Sorry it's been so tame,” she smiled. “Not even a good murder| I thought of arranging one for you— kn‘owlnz your fondness for such things. I'm slightly bored myself, but, uunfortunately, I can't leave.” Her attractive eyebrows met in a frown. “What do you suppose is keeping Percy?” > Blackwood was not interested. “Haven't the foggiest,” he shrugged. “Writing autographs probably. Well, sorry to dash off like this; but it's been a lovely party. Give my best to Percy when he arrives.” “It’s & quarter to 1,” said Janice Hume. “I've never known him to be this late -before.” She rose to her feet as a bell rang sharply at the back of the house to announce the arrival of some one at the front. “There’s your missing announcer,” said Blackwood. “I’'ll slip out in the confusion.” The room, which, for & moment, had fallen silefit at the sound of the bell, became suddenly noisy with speculative comment. It was the gen- eral opinion that the mercurial Percy Avoid Intestinal Fatigue Many people suffering from In- testinal Patigue, commonly called Constipation, do not know what is is to feel good. 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