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Smart Designs for
Women Who Seiv
p\IAGRAM dress that’s design just for about a house as
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No. 1798 is designed for sizes 14,
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Send your order to The Sewing
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Price of patterns, 15 cents (iq
coins) each.
(Bell Syndicate—WNU Service.)
Powerful Song
Few songs have ever affected
their listeners as much as “Amour
sacre de la patrie” as it was sung
during the presentation of the op¬
era “La Muette de Portici” at the
Theater Royal de la Monnaie in
Brussels on the night of August 25,
1830. Inspired by it, the audi¬
ence stopped the performance,
broke the chairs, rushed into the
street and started the famous rev¬
olution through which Belgium
won its administrative freedom
from Holland.—Collier’s.
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Treasure Trove
That is a good book which is
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WNU—7 39—39
SPECIAL
BARGAINS
TATHEN you see the specials of
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you can depend on them. They
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•They are offered by merchants
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CHILD OF EVIL
O OCTAVUS WNU SERVICE ROY COHEN By OCTAVUS ROY COHEN
CHAPTER X—Continued
— 11 —
Kay bit her lip. There was
thing in her father’s manner which
she could not grasp ... a subtle
reticence which eluded her.
asked, “You know all about it?”
“Everybody in Beverly knows
now,” said Andy.
“What do they know?”
“Nothing, except that Kirk
nolds has been killed.”
Andrew Forrest dropped his
on his daughter’s shoulder.
you reckon you’d better come home,
Kay?”
She nodded. “I suppose so . .
“I think it’d be wise. I’ll talk
Floyd while you pack up.”
Kay looked startled. The
were out before she thought.
said, “I’m all packed.”
For just an instant, Andrew
rest looked startled. Then he said,
“I’ll see Floyd right now,” and
out of the front door. Andy sat down
near his sister.
“Kind of tough luck, Sis.”
He was kindly . . . which was
like Andy.
There were good-bys, and Mrs.
Hamilton begged Kay to come
soon. Briefly, Barney backed
into a corner and took her hands.
His palms were cold.
“You’re quite all right, honey?”
“Yes . . . Oh! Barney,
sure . . .”
“I told you the truth.” His
were tight on hers. “I’ll be
into town—often.”
“Please. I need you so much.”
They put Kay’s suit-case in
tonneau of the little car and
three of them sat in the front
with Andy at the wheel and Kay
the middle. They moved
lane* of tourist cars and swung
on the dirt highway. Not until
did Mr. Forrest speak.
“You’re sure you’re all
Kay?”
“I suppose so.” She closed
eyes. odor *Jbf
The fresh, clean
helped clear her brain. She stole
glance at her brother’s face,
and determined without being
. . . the face of an average,
yoyng man. A dependable face.
spofee to both . . . without
at either.
“What happened after you left
last night?”
Mr. Forrest answered. “We
right home.”
“Did you meet anybody?”
“Where?”
"In the Gardens?”
Mr. Forrest put his hand
hers. “We didn’t meet Kirk
nold*—if that’s what you mean.”
Andy said, “We didn’t meet a
—except cars we passed on the
home.”
Kay said, "Somebody killed
. . . and I was afraid that ...”
“I understand.”
“But you don’t
really. Kirk came last night to
me back to Beverly with him ...
make me live with him as his
That’* why I was so nervous
you und Andy showed up. I
afraid you’d meet him. And
I heard—this morning—what
happened, I thought . . . well,
thought maybe you had met
Mr. Forrest shook his head.
we didn’t meet him.”
“But you could have. He
due there about that time.”
“We didn’t meet him!”
voice was metallic. “We've told
that a dozen times.”
Kay subsided. Her father
“I’m mighty sorry, Kay . . .”
“I don’t know what to do.
you see, Dad, somebody did
Kirk. You say it wasn’t you
Andy. I don’t believe Jim
did it—although he was out
alone for a long time. And . .
“Where was Barney?”
“He was outside, too. That’s
scares me.”
“What does he say?”
“He says he didn’t do it.
body says that.”
“Let’s not talk about it
dear.” Andrew Forrest’s voice
calm, reassuring. “After we
home—after you’ve begun to
better—there are heaps of things
can talk about. You can tell
the truth about this marriage
ness now, can’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes, of
Now.”
Kay and Mrs. Forrest had
been too close to one another.
was too much like her father,
little tolerant of her mother’s
ite virtues. She anticipated
dread the tears and
the inescapable “You see
you’ve done” . . . “If you’d
kept away from that man ...”
Andy parked at the curb and
and her father walked up to
house together. They opened
I front door and Kay stepped inside.
Mrs. Forrest came to meet
short and sturdy and firm.
then a queer thing happened.
Forrest did not scold, she did
condemn, she did not say, “I
you so.”
She opened her arms and Kay
into their haven. She heard a
j In her mother’s voice earliest that she
not heard since
Sympathy and kindness. She
her mother saying, “My
baby . . .”
Kay broke down. The sobs
{iad tortured her by their very
DADE COUNTY TIMES: THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1939
pression broke forth. She clung tight
. . . her defenses destroyed by this
unexpected gentleness. sobbed,
“Oh! Mother . . .” she
like a little girl, “Oh, Mother . . .
I’m so glad to be home . .
mm*
Doc Morrison said, “I’m getting
damned sick and tired of it,” and
Mrs. Tandy answered, “Why Doc¬
tor, I don’t know what you mean.”
Doc elevated his lanky frame
from the ancient, creaky swivel
chair and paced his musty office.
“You know dog-gone good and
well what I mean, Martha Tandy.
I mean this everlasting gossip about
Kay Forrest.”
“Kay Reynolds/’ sniffed the
dumpy little lady virtuously. “She
is his widow, you know. And she
didn’t even go to the funeral.”
“Why should she? And why can’t
Beverly leave her alone? She’s a
nice kid.”
“Hmph! Brought it on herself—
that’s what I say.”
“You and a thousand others. Well,
you listen to me, I’m not hearing
any more of it. I’m a medical man,
not a gossip hound.”
“But Doctor—”
“Don’t but me, Woman. And you
can tell all your friends to keep
She stole a glance at her broth¬
er’s face, strong and determined.
their comments to themselves. Tell
’em if they’ve got to talk, to get
another doctor.”
“But Doc . . .” Mrs. Tandy af¬
fectionately used the nickname by
which all Beauregard County knew
this kindly man . . . “We can’t
get along without you. You know
that.”
“Oh! you can’t, eh? Well, you will
if you don’t quit rakin’ Kay Forrest
over the coals every time you see
me.”
She—and many of her friends—
loved and needed Doc. He treated
them free and with moderate ex¬
pertness. What he lacked in the
knowledge of modern medicine, he
more than atoned for in practical
experience and keen interest.
Doc’s position in the community
was unique. Children adored him
and older folks loved him. Other
medicos laughed good-naturedly
about his old-fashioned methods and
his startling lack of proper educa¬
tion, but everybody admitted that
he was a grand person to have
about when the illness was of the
ordinary run-of-the-mine sort.
• • •
The Beverly Star, a weekly pub¬
lication, had made mention of sev¬
eral things:
“The funeral of our fellow-citizen,
Mr. Kirk Reynolds, was solemnized
yesterday morning at Beverly Cem¬
etery, the Rev. David Ferguson of
Springdale preaching a fine sermon.
“Mr. Reynolds met his unfortu¬
nate death recently by being
stabbed by some one unknown. He
grew up in Beverly and was well
known.
“Funeral services were conducted
by Layton & Cross, our expert
dertakers.”
And:
“The daughter of Mr. and Mrs.
Andrew Forrest of Chicora Avenue,
this city, has returned from a
to Cathedral Gardens where she was
the house-guest of Mrs. Ruth
ton and family.”
And:
“Sheriff Floyd Griffin reports
he has not made any arrests
connection with the unhappy
mise of the late Mr. Kirk Reynolds.
He says, however, that his staff
deputies are hard at work on
case. There was a great deal of
cal interest in this tragedy.”
Barney Hamilton made daily
its to the Forrest home, which
riveted the attention of
They watched for his little car,
timed his visits—promptly
ing their findings to friends.
speculated about what happened
side the house and declared
the situation was disgraceful,
cause, after all, wasn’t Kay a
ow? And wasn’t she entertaining
young man within a week of
husband’s death?
Townsfolk were wondering
the authorities intended to do
«Y e h—you! You know is w*n as
I do that Barney Hamilton killed
Kirk, and you’re using these other
three birds as excuses not to do
anything.” pardon
“But ma’am—beggin’ your There
—that ain’t no-ways true.
cain’t nobody be convicted without
evidence, and even if what you been
telling me is true—there ain’t any
proof. So all I’d get for trying Bar¬
ney Hamilton now would be an ac¬
quittal, and then he’d be safe for
the rest of his life.”
“You mean you’re not going to
have him indicted?”
“Not now, ma’am. I sho’ ain’t.”
“You’re gonna let a murderer go
free?”
“Now ma’am . . . that ain’t no
way to put it. It’s just that there
ain’t a lick of sense prosecutin'
somebody when you ain’t got the ev¬
idence to convict. That’s all.”
She whirled, and her husky voice
had become harsh. She said, “Just
because he was a gambler—”
“No’m, that ain’t it.”
“Aah! Nuts! I’m sick and tired
of this lousy hick-town and its poli¬
tics. I can’t give you any votes,
that’s why you’re telling me where
to get off. If it was the other way
around . . .”
Gabe Dixon was slow to anger,
but Sonia Henkel’s words had cut
deep. He rose and spoke with un¬
accustomed dignity. “Listen, ma’am
I don’t blame you for gittin’ all
...
excited about this heah mess. No
matter what Kirk Reynolds was—
you liked him. An’ he liked you,
too, I reckon. But just because you
got an idea that Barney Hamilton
killed him ain’t no reason for me to
fly off half-cocked, an’ all your
swearin’ ain’t a-goin’ to make me do
it, either.”
“You mean you’re going to let
Barney Hamilton go free?”
“Until we git somethin’ against
him, yes’m, I am.”
Babe was trembling. “I might’ve
figured I didn’t have a chance. Well,
let me tell you something, Mister
District Attorney, you’re not deal¬
ing with any small-time dame now,
and if you think I’m gonna take this
sitting down, you’re mistaken.”
“Ma’am, I don’t give a durn if
you sit down or not. Honest, I
don’t.”
“Gettin’ funny, ain’t you? Having
your little joke! Well grab this, the
joke’ll be on you before it’s over.”
“Now, ma’am . . .”
“I’m fed up with men that say
‘Ma’am’ and ‘Miss’ and then try to
give me another shove in the wrong
direction. Why don’t you tell mo
straight out to go roll my hoop? Why
"You know as well as I do that
Barney Hamilton killed Kirk.”
don’t you admit that the whole town
is glad that Kirk was killed, and
it’d be bad politics for you to prose¬
cute anybody for killing him? Why
don’t you start a fund for buying
Barney Hamilton a medal? Why
don’t ...”
“Now, Miss Henkel—you’re gittin’
mad again.”
“Mad! Mad! Well, you listen to
me—and listen close: I’m not quit,
ting, not by a long shot. I never
could do much for Kirk when he
was alive, but I can now. And I
will!”
“No?” Gabe’s voice was edgy. “I
wouldn’t go foolin’ around too much,
ma’am.”
• • •
Kay Forrest sat alone in the liv-
ing-room of her home. Andy, who
was working nights—had gone down
to the garage. Mr. Forrest was up¬
stairs poring over Supreme Court
decisions. From the hallway earn*
the drone of Mrs. Forrest’s voice as
she discussed — interminably — the
menu for the next Church supper.
Emma Forrest was snapping back
to normal. To her husband she had
declared frequently—and with con¬
siderable vehemence—that the death
of Kirk Reynolds was a Godsend to
the community; an opinion which
was virtually unanimous, and she
had been pleased—and more than a
trifle surprised—at Kay’s subdued
manner.
The bell jangled and the front door
opened unceremoniously. Barney
Hamilton flung his hat on the hall
settee near the foot of the steps,
nodded the telephone, brightly to Mrs. Forrest ai
and breezed into tht
living-room. He bent over Kay’i
chair and kissed her. He said, “La
dy—you and I are going places."
(TO BE CONTiNVEiu
it. Not that anyone cared particu¬
larly about Kirk . . . not that kind
words were said about him, even
now. But there was curiosity to be
satisfied, and for several days the
life of Gabe Dixon, Solicitor of the
Seventh Judicial Circuit, had been
anything but pleasant.
He sat now in his office, coat off,
sleeves rolled above the elbow, che¬
root in mouth, feet cocked on the
paper-strewn desk. His stenogra¬
pher came through the door and
closed it carefully behind her.
She said, “Somebody to see you,
Mr. Dixon.”
“Who?”
The young lady came closer.
“It’s that woman,” she whispered.
“What woman?”
“That woman from the hotel.
Sonia Henkel.”
CHAPTER XI
Gabe Dixon, Solicitor of the Sev¬
enth Judicial Circuit, prided himself
upon being, at all times and under
all circumstances, a gent. He gave
proof of this now by removing his
feet from the desk-top as Sonia
Henkel entered the room. His shifty,
watery eyes blinked and his promi¬
nent Adam’s apple bobbed excitedly
as he murmured, “Siddown, Miss
Henkel,” and jerked his head in
the direction of a cane-bottom chair
near the desk.
Mr. Dixon scrutinized his visitor
keenly. He had heard all about
Sonia (not without personal interest)
and had seen her occasionally on the
street . . . but this intimate view
was more than a trifle intriguing.
The silence was broken by Babe’s
low-pitched, husky voice. “You’re
the district attorney?”
“Yes’m. We call it Solicitor down
heah.”
“I’ve got to talk to you . . . about
something important.”
She said, tensely, “There are
some things you ought to know
about Kirk Reynolds.” She hesitat¬
ed, but only for a moment. “He
killed Harvey Jackson.”
“Yes’m. I know.”
“You couldn’t know. You could
only suspect.”
Gabe’s watery eyes betrayed in¬
terest. “How come you to know it
for sure, Miss Henkel?”
“Kirk told me, and I don’t mind
telling you because nothing—noth¬
ing more—can happen to him now.”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“Kirk went to that dance three
weeks ago with Kay Forrest. They
went for a ride afterwards. He had
trouble on the road with Jackson,
and killed him. He didn’t think any¬
body would suspect, so he didn’t do
anything at first.” Babe was speak¬
ing carefully. “Then he heard that
folks were talking ... so he made
Kay Forrest marry him because in
this State a wife can’t be made to
testify against her husband.”
“Yes’m. Kirk was a pretty smart
lad.”
“Anyway—that’s the story. It’s
true, and you know it’s true.”
“Mm-hmm! I reckon I do. But
Kirk is dead now.”
“Yes . . .” Her eyes clouded.
“And I know who killed him—and
why.”
Mr. Dixon was uncouth and none
too literate, but he was shrewd. He
asked softly, “Is that what you come
to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ma’am, I’d sho’ be glad
to hear the truth. Who was it?”
Tiny points of light glinted in her
black eyes. She said, “Barney Ham¬
ilton!”
“Hmmm . . . You sure?”
“Yes. Now listen, the night Kirk
was killed he went to Cathedral Gar¬
dens for the purpose of bringing Kay
Forrest back to Beverly.”
“Barney Hamilton was in love
with Kay Forrest. So he waited
there for Kirk—met him—and killed
him, and I’m here to ask you what
you’re gonna do about it?”
Gabe Dixon’s long, lean fingers
closed about the bowl of an ancient
pipe. He filled it with tobacco and
tamped it down carefully. Then he
held a match to it and inhaled deep¬
ly. His voice was distant and im¬
personal. “Got any real evidence,
Miss Henkel?”
“Evidence? Ain’t that enough evi¬
dence?”
Gabe shook his head. “No’m, I’m
afraid it ain’t. Just the fact that
young Hamilton was there don’t
mean nothing. Other folks were
there, too.”
She shrugged impatiently. “I know
all about them. This Owenby guy
and Kay’s father and brother. But
they didn’t have any reason for kill¬
ing Kirk?”
“No? Now just for the sake of
argument, ma’am—let me show you
just how much reason they had. Jim
Owenby had been Harvey Jackson’s
best friend, and he knew dawg-gone
good and well that Kirk killed Har¬
vey. So that takes care of him.
And Andrew and Andy Forrest . .
well, you ain’t from Beauregard
County, Miss Henkel ... so maybe
you wouldn’t understand that the
menfolks don’t usually stand back
and see their women pushed around
by men they don’t like. So it could
easy have beet* either Mr. Forrest
or Andy.”
Babe said* "You’re stalling.”
“Me?”
Simple Patches f or
This Applique Q u i| t
Pattern 6416
A leaf, a flower, a center patch
—that’s all there is to Mayflower
applique. Start your blocks now-
the patches are easy to apply!
You can use the same material
throughout for the flower patches
or do each one in a different
scrap. Use this easy and effec¬
tive block for pillow or scarf as
well. Pattern 6416 contains the
Block Chart; carefully drawn pat¬
tern pieces; color schemes; direc¬
tions for making the quilt; yard¬
age chart; illustration of quilt.
To obtain this pattern send 15
cents in coins to The Sewing Cir¬
cle Household Arts Dept., 259 W.
14th St., New York.
Please write your name, ad¬
dress and pattern number plainly.
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Pleasure is the reflex of unim¬
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A babe in a house is a well-
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