The Key West Citizen Newspaper, January 5, 1953, Page 8

THE KEY WEST CITIZEN YES.,.I'VE BEEN EXPECTING YOu... ‘AS FELIX BLON MISSES A LEFT, CHIPS PUTS ALL HIS POWER INTO A STUNNING T CROSS TO THE es BEEN TALKING Monday, January 5, 1953 RSE, FLASH GORDON! Fagg esa WHAT 1s! HERES THE MISSING ONE. YOURE LATE, Yous JUNGLE WITCH? Yup, THIS IS THE RIGHT WAY. NEVER SEEN HER, NEVER WANT TOPANY, MORE QUESTIONS? [_J THE MORE FRIGHTENED T: Hmm, A TRADING POST. TLLASK HERE. pony HEY ARE. YE NEEDN'T GRIN LIKE A PAIR O' CHESSY CATS! YELL BE MARRIED ONE O’ THESE THERE SHE IS‘ HERE, YOU GUYS, ‘S ARE Jus’ i wAd AH AIM T MAKE »s GIT HOME BEFO" O FUST BASKETBAWL GAMI EX WEEK _ Buseun, you | NEED A VENDUH.. iS Sis" FINISHED 1 —- ‘TH SEASON? Key Books by A. de T. Gingras (THE CORRESPONDENCE BE- TWEEN PAUL CLAUDEL AND ANDRE GIDE, series of letters published by the Pantheon Press, New York City, 299 pages.) Here and there in the history of ters, is a very revealing episto- lary exchange, to the students of both literature and religion. The letter writers, Paul Claudel and Andre Gide, are two of the most significant and vital figures in recent French literature. Claudel is an ardent Catholic, with his writings and personal re- lationships are completely per- meated with the philosophy of this Roman branch of the Christian Church. The last Andre Gide’s be- ginnings were Protestant. But for long his claim to literary fame has been shared with his notoriety as an avowed homosexual. The correspondence begins on August 28, 1899, and the last en- try is on December, 1931. The author has inserted among the letters, excerpts from Gide’s diar- ies relating to Claudel, so as to fill in the gaps when Claudel seems to be writing more fre- quently than does Gide. The letters may well be read purely for their lively critical com- ‘|ment on other writers, and for their intimate backstage sidelights on the literary performance of the two authors. They may also be read for the personal comments such as Gide’s description of Claudel in his diary; someone else’s thought does not stop his for an instant; even a a cannot could not divert him. In talking with him, in trying to talk with him, one is forced to interrupt him. He waits politely until you have finished your sentence, then resumes where he had stopped, at nothing. . . .” But there is also something else which looms up again and again as the reader goes through the series. The letters show Claudel’s passionate desire to convert Gide to Catholocism, and Gide’s inter- mittent interest and withdrawal. Claudel is convinced that the spiri- tual ills of man, and especially those of the neurotically tortured Gide have a patent cure in sub- mission to the tenets of Catholo- cism. Gide is interested sometimes, but not at all sure. At the same time, the corres- pondence shows Gide’s deep ad- miration for Claudel’s literary per- formance. But. morenimportant it shows Claudel’s—admiration for Gide’s writing. “In/the very first letter of the seritis he: writes - “. , . the quality’o£ your mind is as rare as its movement is particular to yourself.~You seem to ’draw off” the subject by drain- ing away a part of that belt of liquid in which ideas are suspend- ed, and you illuminate and clarify them in the process - ‘though not so much as to spoil the play of refraction or to take away the charm of your ideas. Your mind has no slope. And I greatly enjoy- ed studying your style. . .” But at the end of the book, fol- lowing the actual correspondence, is an interview given by Paul Claudel to Dominique Arban on March 28, 1947. In this:the Catholic writer completely repudiates his formerly repeatedly zvowed ad- miration for Gide’s iiterary and intellectual achievements. He de- cries the other's influence on the younger writers and inteliectuals of France. It is true that Gide’s personal life has little to commend it to the normal, healthy minded indi- vidual. But it is very disturbing to the sincere student of literature to see intolerance completely oblite- rate the critical judgement of a great man like Claudel. Nothing that Gide might have done per- sonally could destroy the place of his “Pastoral Symphony” as one of the greatest short novels in French or world literature; or pre- vent his diaries from moving into their place as one of the greatest literary records of the day by day mental and spiritual peregrinations of a deeply intellectual and scho- larly man. (BEST DETECTIVE STORIES OF 1952, edited by David C. Cooke, published by E. P. Dutton and Co., New York City, 252 pages.) In this volume the editor has THE CISCO KID Chapter 32 ‘HE sky was dull and overcast all the next day. There was the threat of rain in the air and Clay was in a constant state of nervousness and apprehension as he watched the cloud patterns shift and change. Morgan was not in evidence, but in the-late afternoon a guard found Clay on the gallery and advised him that Morgan would like to have him dine with him in his study that evening. Glumly, Clay nodded agreemen Strangely en Morgan him- self was almost affable. The thick lips widened into a heavy smile of greeting as Clay came in and the pudgy hand gestured hospi- tably toward an easy chair before the fire. “I am honored to have you join me this evening, Mr. Logan.” Clay felt the little prickles of distaste that he always felt in Morgan’s presence ripple down his spine. It was an instinctive aversion, the repulsion of being} « brought into ane sour and evil and un- an. He forced himself to smile and sketched a careless gesture of dis- missal. “I haven't worried about it. These things take time, and I know Sie weren't idle or empty- handed before. However, I'd be glad to hear that my suggestion is being favorably considered.” Bates ir. Logan? Fa- vorably?” He paused as if he were testing the exact stren; and meaning of the word. “Why, yes, I think we can consider it in that light. One of my associates who has a most remarkable talent for affairs of this nature will join us for dinner. After that is fin- ished, we can discuss these de- tails, the three of us together. You will, I feel sure, agree that his counsel will prove mutually helpful.” ere was a knock on the door and the door swung open and Clay looked up to see wha the ird member of the trio was to be. Unbelievingly, he felt his nerves spring tight as fiddle strings, his mouth go dry with stunned rise. is He was looking -straight into Sarazan’s face—and the gun in Sarazan’s hand was pointing squarely at his head! cr HAD gone on for more than four hours now-—the ceaseless, unending, remorseless question- ing; Morgan still suave and delib- erate, but as coldly determined as a sixteenth century inquisitor; attempted to select the juiciest murders, and the best fiction de- tecting of the year now almost gone. He begins with Stuart Palmer’s “Where Angels Fear To Tread.” The amateur sleuth is Miss Hilde- garde Withers, a meddlesome, amiable lady often used by the author, and filling all the require- ments for a type associate for many generations of fiction with the maiden lady school teacher. She has a special reason for looking for the murderer in this tale. Her favorite niece and the niece’s impetuous husband are in- volved. Miss Withers arrives to visit the two in their honeymoon cottage, and finds the lovebirds flown, and a “for sale” sign on the lawn outside. Sniffing an Ethiopian in the oil furnace, when she cannot locate their whereabouts, she starts an investigation which takes her to La Jolla, Calif., and tangles her with everybody from the progucer Of a radio show to a smoothie professional sleuth with the eup- honious name of Villalobos. “The Last Day of My Life” by Allan Vaughan Elston is one of the best of the tales in the book. Here the principal figure is a girl named Nancy Waring who finds on a Page of her diary the message. . {-_- this is the last day of my life, | goodbye. | The date of the entry is a month | away, but she is frightened anc | calls the police. From that phone | call on she becomes excitingly in- | volved with a jail bird, an apart- | ment house owner and a bunch of | cops. } The “Smuggler,” a short-short by Victor Canning, ‘s also an in | teresting little piece. A fisherman, Tasso, and an importani man be- hind a mahogany desk are the two | characters in the story. Every- | thing happens in the course of 2 conversation in an office, yet the story has all the elements of an/ exciting chase, and a battle of wits. | Most people un a Yuletide gift list like detective stories. While some of these selecticns iocre, each reader sho lez-* a couple to his individual taste. HOTHEAD HARRY MUST HAVE A FAR TRIAL! / © close contact with | ¢, Sarazan hot-eyed and savage, burning with memory of the humiliation Clay had forced upon him at Palmentera. For the past half hour, Clay had been hanging by his wrists from’ one of the rafters of Morgan’s study, his toes a foot above the floor, his back slashed and swol- len. from the lashes of the black- snake whip Sarazan wielded with a furiously bloodthirsty sadism. Before that, he had been forced to stand erect, his hands tied be- hind him, while one of the guards tore his face to ribbons with the butt of a Colt’s revolver. ‘Farrar, you prove yourself a fool. You ‘have underestimated me from the beginning. Do you think that, if I were wise enough to suspect you and bring Sarazan here to identify you, am so addled and incompetent that I cannot make you speak? You can save yourself much pain, Farrar, if you talk now—for you wili surely talk before we are done. 11 me,” his voice softened into a tone of friendly persuasion, ‘where is the rabble you led down rom Palmentera and what hope- less plan are you trying to work out for them?” Sarazan snarled like an animal and the lash tore his broken flesh again. “By God! By God, you will} th talk!” Sarazan’s lips were thinned back from his teeth, his eyes nar- rowed with fury, his whole body trembling with the excess of hrenetic madness that possessed im. The whip rose again, but as it fell the tides of blackness rolled up and over him, engulfing him in an unconsciousness that soaked into his very bones. His head fell forward on his chest and his body ung inert and motionless under the flame of the coiling whip. “A hard man,” he said musing- ly. “Take him away, Sarazan. Take him away and have him guarded until he’s conscious again. There is nothing to be gained by killing him now, but we will try again and he will be a little weaker, a little more ready to talk to us. Take him away now. Tomorrow will be time bs cn to discuss the matter with again.” HE AWOKE to blackness and to a convulsive torment of agony. biaesltgconioas ae oF canine an- guish possessed him like a demon, Cacigeme yo & raging through his flesh and through his brain. He groaned and closed his eyes, feel- ing the pain surge through him like a great river flowing on for- ever. He was beginning to tee member now Sarazan. The iment, waiting somewhere outside in the dark- ness. Waiting for the signal that would bring them storming down. He tried to lift himself up on one elbow and felt his brain whirl in a roaring maze of dizziness that threatened to sweep him back into unconsciousness. Jaws clenched, he forced himself to wait until it faded away into the nothingness from which it had come, and then he lifted himself again, knowing the white fire of Pain that was almost beyond en- durance. The breath was whistling through his dry lips now, his lungs tortured for lack of air. He lurehed forward again and then recoiled convulsively as his grop= ing hand touched something that was neither wall nor floor. Like a startled animal, he froze utter silence and immovability, waiting for some reaction or ai tack from this strange object he had touched. But there was noth ing. Nothiag but the black silence and the emptiness end his heart pounding like a flailing sledge. Cautiously he let his hand creep forward again, moving so slowly that it seemed almost not to move at all. And then there was @ feel of something hard and smooth beneath his fingers, some- thing that gave a little as he touched it. Leather! A leather boot with the feel of flesh within it! He pee as his hand touched the cold chill of metal. He was trembling now as his fingers traced out the curve of steel and touched a sharp point that moved a little beneath his hand—a point that became the rowel of a spur, star-pointed, razor-keen, so eom- mon and accepted a part of a rid- er’s dress that it had not beer. re~ moved when the man was dis- armed and thrown into the dark- ness to die. He had it free of the boot now, feeling its weight, recognizing it as one of the cruel Spanish spurs that could cut like a knife or tear the dripping hide from a bucking horse’s side. There was a way he could hold it in his hand, rowel up, so that it was as vicious a weapon as a man could ask, One slash and it could tear out a man’s throat. One slash across the eyes, and where the eyes had b there would be only a jagged gash filled with blood. He efted it again, feeling a mount~ ing desire for the release of rage that only primeval combat could bestow. (To be continued) Grenades Explode On Venice Barge VENICE, Italy ##—Two freight car loads of hand grenades ex- ploded on a transport barge in a picturesque Venetian lagoon here. blowing seven workmen to bits and injuring nine others. the rescue of other workers plunged into the cold water off ACROSS — 31. Scotch 1. Stinging negztive insect 32, Everlasting 5. Decree 35. Dull fnish 8. Weapons 37. Long fish 12, Silkworm 38. Preserve 13, Armpit 39, Spills over 14. Outer 42, Unusual covering 45. Intone 15. Winnows 47. Smal) 16. Consecrate carrying 18. Carpenter's case lorse 48. Always 20. Makeover = 49, Automobile - Wax 30, Reclined SL. Compass point 52. Span of life 53. Collections . Pore over }. [egal interes! . Touch ). Sailor . Seed container Hundreds of gondolas rushed to} Isola Della Certosa by the blast, which shook the whole city. Both railroad cars and the ferry were demolished. The island has an establishment which manufactures explosives for the Italian Navy, A half cup of catchup.--season- ed with lemon juice, horsersdish, Worcestershire sauce and tabasco ~usually makes.enough sauce for jtwo or three servings of shrimp Crossword Puzzle Solution of Yesterday's Pi 2. Sandaractree 6. 3. Easy job 6. ' One whe 2 hands to rf a % Dipper Toward sheller another 10.