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“LIBELED LADY” will be shown at the Royal \jb■
Theater, Summerville, January 14 and 15. •»’ ’C.
SYNOPSIS—Warren Haggerty, managing ed- V W
itor of the New York Evening Star, nearly
dressed to be married to Glads Benton, is called
to the office because fifty copies of the paper
carrying a libelous story about Connie Allen
bury (daughter of the man the paper has fought
for about twenty years) have got out. Haggerty
calls Allenbury in London and learns he has in
structed his attorneys to sue the Star for $5.-
000,000. Haggerty search frantically for Bill v 5
Chandler, former libel man for the paper, whom > » dtgL
he had fired. Chandler demands $5,000 and SSO,- * 7?
000 when the libel action is withdrawn, if he
takes the case. ... - >■—
Chapter Three
The Bride Is Left Behind.
Haggerty was driven to pleading.
“Now be reasonable, Bill—”
“Take it or leave it. . . No, on
second thought, I don’t think I want
the job at any price. I’ve got all the '
money I need. Only this morning I |
got a $5,000 advance on my next 1
book.” He pulled out the memo,!'
which he had put in his pocket, and
started ter tear it up, not noticing a
letter which fell to the floor. “Let’s <
forget about it.”
“Wait!” Haggerty grabbed the re- 1
porter’s arm. “You ought to be ar
rested for extortion, but all right.” 1
He signed the agreement which 1
Chandler had drawn up.
“You dropped this, sir,” said a 1
passing bellboy, picked up the letter 1
and gave it to Haggerty who looked I
to see what it was. He immediatyly 1
went up into the air. 1
“So your publisher’s going to give 1
you five thousand in advance! Seven ;
hundred behind at the hotel, you
mean!” 1
Chandler patted the pocket in
which he had put their agreement. 1
I You mean you rs run- .J®
ning out or. Warren?"
rhe demnr ded b.tt'.y *7*
“Not now I’m not! Forget it! You’ll
get your money's worth. Here’s the
plan: the Allenburys are in London,’
so I sail at once to England and sail
for home on the boat tbsy are to
take the end of next week. I meet I
the girl. Perhaps she comes to my
cabin —anything can happen in five
days on a boat—for a cocktail, per
fectly innocent to her, "to me and ev
eryone on the boat except the private
detective who radios my wife—”
“Have you got a wife?’’
“No, this is a set-up. We’ll hire
some attractive girl to marry me
and when the time comes, she’ll stage 1
a pretty little scene over her erring
husband, sue Connie for alienation of
affections —”
“I get it!” cried Haggerty. “The
Star has called Connie a husband
stealer and she denies it. We dupli
cate the situation —and this time she
does steal a husband. This time
we’re right!"
“Let her go to bat with her libel
suit after that and see what she’ll
collect!"
“But how about the girl to marry
you? Do you know anybody?”
“Pretty tricky—it’s got to be
someone we can trust —”
“Listen!” interrupted Haggerty, |
an ecstatic look on his face. “I’ve got
the girl—the very girl! I’ll phone her
and we’ll meet at the City Clerk’s
office in an hour ...”
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Gladys
Benton coldly when she recognized
Haggerty’s voice.
“Now wait a minute, honey. Do
you want to get married?”
“Do I want to get married? What
do you think? I’ll call the preacher.”
“Be at the City Hall—clerk’s office
in an hour. And don’t ask ques
tions.”
“The City Hall! But I can’t wear
my dress! ... All right, Warren, 1
won’t ask questions. I’ll be then?,
and don’t keep me waiting!” ...
If Haggerty counted on his Irish
charm to persuade Gladys Benton to
marry a man she had never before
met just to help him out of a jam. he
was quickly persuaded of his error.
While Bill Chandler waited in a cor
ner of the clerk’s office puffing a
cigarette, Haggerty explained to
Gladys the jam he was in how it
might cost him his career if the pa
per lost the suit—appealing to her
love for him. Gladys got angrier and
angrier and began to raise her voice.
Haggerty begged her to be quiet.
“I won’t be quiet!” She raved.
“I’ve taken plenty from you for that
paper, Warren Haggerty, but this
gets the blue ribbon—trying to mar
ry me off to another guy—to that
baboon!” She stabbed a finger at
Chandler.
“Let’s not deal in personalities,”
said Bill calmly.
Haggerty pleaded, “But, darling,
it’s just for a month—maybe less.
Then six weeks in Reno. I’ll come out
the moment you get your divorce—”
“But I don’t want a divorce! I want
to get married and stay married! If
you don’t want to marry me, just
say so.”
“Os course, I want to marry you!
But this comes first. It’s our only
chance. Why, no other paper in the
world would take me on as office
boy, if the Star loses this suit. You
remember Ed Glover, when he lost
that libel case? They found his car
gone over a cliff and a revolver in
his hand. Would I permit you to help
me in this way if I didn’t consider
you, practically, as my wife?”
“Would you ask your wife to hook
up with that ape ? ”
“The ape objects,” said Chandler,
like a defense lawyer.
“But, honey, you’re not marrying
him really. A wedding ceremony, six
hours in a hotel apartment—and I’ll
be there every minute—and then he
sails for Europe—”
Gladys covered her eyes. “I’m not
having any.”
Chandler got to his feet, gave Hag
gerty a wink. “That goes double for
me! Sorry, but the deal’s off. Here’s
you contract—fifty thousand dollars.
But I wouldn’t take that gal on for
a million.”
“But, Bill, you know the spot I’m
in! You can’t—”
“That’s your tough luck. I’m out!
You’ll have to get a new boy.” He
started for the door. Gladys, becom
ing indignant, caugh his arm.
“You mean you’re running out on
Warren?” she demanded hotly.
“That’s it, sister.” He pulled at his
arm. She clung tighter.
“It'll ruin his career—his life! You
know what the Star means to him.
A fine friend you are!”
“Well,” said Chandler, pretending
reluctance, “if you put it that way.”
The bride and groom, with their
only attendant at the marriage, were
in the living room of Chandler’s ho
tel apartment an hour later, drinking
champagne and nibbling at caviar
sandwiches when the phone rang.
Chandler answered it.
“Send it right up. And send a
waiter for the table.” He hung up.
“That’s the wire you sent, Warren.
The waiter and bellboy will be here
to witness the tender scene when we
learn I’m called to Europe.”
“Remember, honey,” Haggerty ad
monished Gladys, “you’re all broken
up. Here he is, a bridegroom of an
hour, torn from your arms.”
“And that’s plenty!”
Chandler lifted his glass. “To my
little bride!”
“Lay off that stuff!” said Gladys
in anger. “My name is—”
“Mrs. William Chandler!”
“I’d rather have a number!”
Haggerty thought it time to inter
rupt “You wouldn’t start fighting.
You’re happily married—both crazy
in love with each other.”
“I must be crazy to have let yoa
talk me into marrying another guy!
Let me tell you this, Warren, you’ve
got to forget the paper now, take
1 me places—”
| “Not me!” exclaimed Haggerty;
alarmed. “You must stay here, in the
THE SUMMERVILLE NEWS: THURSDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1936.
apartment. You’re married; you can’t
go running around with other men!
You’re to bring suit for alienation —”
The door bell rang, and they all
snapped into the parts they were to
play. Gladys called sweetly, “Come
in!”, took the telegram from the bell
boy while the waiter started to clear
the table. “Oh, darling, here’s a tel
egram for you.”
“All right, sweetness, open it.”
Gladys opened the telegram and as
she read it, her face got screwed up
and she began to weep.
Chandler sprang up, “Darling,
what is it?”
She shoved the telegram into his
hand. “Read it.”
“Why, it’s from the office!” ex
claimed Bill, and read it aloud: “ ‘lm
perative you sail Britain tonight for
directors’ meeting. Reservations ar
ranged. Andrews will meet you at
the ship and give you final instruc
tions!”
“Oh, Bill, you can’t leave me!”
wept Gladys. “You mustn’t leave
me!”
Bill stroked her hair as the waiter
and the bell boy exchanged sympa
thetic glances. “There now, darling,
I know it’s terrible, breaking up our
honeymoon, but what am I to do?
After all, if they tell me to go, I
must go.”
“He’ll be back in a couple of weeks,
Mrs. Chandler,” soothed Haggerty.
“But two we. ks . . . is . . . two
weeks,” blubbered Gladys, “and I’m
going to miss my Billikens.”
Chandler winced, but played up.
“And I’m going to miss my little
Fuzzy Face.”
“Say, Bill, you’ll have to do some
fast moving to make that ship!” cried
Haggerty.
“Lucky I didn’t unpack! Boy, get
my bags!”
“I’ll get the elevator,” said Hag
gerty.
Bill took Gladys in his arms. “Good
bye, my darling. I’ll be thinking of
you every minute.”
“Every second!” Gladys chimed in.
Haggerty, holding the elevator,
explained to the runner: “The bride
and groom.”
Chapter Four
A Quick Thinker At Sea.
A bevy of photographers and re
porters swarmed about Connie Allen
bury as, nearing the gangplank at
Southhampton, her father was called
away to settle some mix-up about
their They besieged her for
photographs, for a statement about
her damage suit against the New
York Evening Star.
“No! No! I’ve nothing to say,” said j
Connie, backing away from them and
casting helpless looks about. Gra- j
ham, her father’s secretary, had gone
with Mr. Allenbury.
“Come on, give us a break! Just
me shot, Miss Allenbury,” they
oleaded.
“Skirt’s too long, Palmer,” said a
•hotographer to a reporter standing
>y Connie. “How about taking a truck
n it?”
“Sure,” said Palmer, and deftly
fted her skirt above her knees. She
•as trying to liberate her dress from |
Palmer’s hands, when a young man
rushed into the scene, dropped his
>ag, and faced Palmer coolly.
“Just a minute! Apparently the
young lady doesn't wish to be pho
ographed!”
He clipped the reporter on the jaw,
ending him sprawling, tripped a
photographer who approached him,
ind held the others back until Connie,
’scaping towards the gangplank, was
joined by her father and his secre
tary.
“This is an outrage!” asserted Mr.
Mlenbury to a ship’s official. “You
should have guards.”
In the confusion, the man who had
gone to Connie’s aid, had picked up
his bag and walked quickly up the
gang-plank.
“I am deeply regretful, Miss Al
lenbury.” said the official. “Are you
all right?”
“Oh, yes—quite.”
“Where did the young man go ?”
inquired her father. “We must
thank him.”
One of the reporters burst into
loud speech, addressing his fellow
newspaper men: “We’ll fix that guy,
all right! That was William Chand
ler, the author. We’ll show him he
can’t push the press around!”
“Remember that name,” said Mr.
Allenbury to his secretary as they
started for the gang-plank.
Palmer, the man who had been
knocked down, went up to the man
who had named Chandler, “If I’d
known Chandler was going to clip
me like that I’d have charged him
fifty bucks instead of twenty!”
Satisfied with such an introduc
tion to Connie Allenbury, Chandler
went to his cabin, after a short con
sultation with a private detective
who was making the voyage to New
York as his assistant, and busied
himself reading up the magazine and
newspaper articles about Mr. Allen
bury with which he had supplied him
self. A number of them had to do
with fishing, for angling was Allen
bury’s one passion.
Half an hour later he answered a
knock at the door to find Graham
standing there.
“Mrs. Alleribury’s compliments and
will Mr. Chandler join him for cock
tails before dinner?”
“Allenbury?” said Chandler as
though the name were new to him.
“Mr. J. B. Allenbury. The young
lady you rescued from those report
ers is Mr. Allenbury’s daughter.”
“Oh, that wa snothing, but I’ll be
delighted to have cocktails with Mr.
Allenbury.”
“At 7:3o—the grill room bar.”
When Graham had departed.
Chandler rang for the steward and
asked him to bring to his room all
the books on angling in the ship’s
I library, and put in the time familiar
, izing himself with the fisherman’s
lingo.
He dressed carefully for dinner be
fore going to the grill room. There
he found Graham who looked up from
checking a mass of letters, cables
and radiograms. “Mr. Allenbury will
be here in just a moment—a ship
phone call. But he asked that you or
der. Here is Mr. Allenbury now.”
“Sorry to be late, Mr—” He ex
tended a hand.
“Chandler,” said Bill.
“Chandler. Have you ordered? Ex
cure me a moment, won’t you? It
was Mulvaney, Graham. Gates has
asked for a postponement, but I in
structed them to go ahead. Cable
Archibald. Anything important in
those messages?”
“The bank, Partridge, Dr. McKen
zie. And Jennings shall he meet
you in Washington?”
“No, he’d better come to New
York and fly down with me. Be sure
the plane’s ready.”
“It’s ordered for noon.” With a nod
Allenbury dismissed his secretary
and turned his attention to Chandler.
“Now, young man, I want to thank
you for your kindness this morning,
both for myself and my daughter.
I’m sorry she couldn’t be with us, but
some friends on the boat ...” He
broke off as the steward brought
cocktails. “Quick thought on your
part. I trust you’re none the worse.”
“Not at all!” interjected Chandler.
, “In fact, I enjoyed it! Newspapers
and I aren’t the best of friends. Once
( in Chicago, I sent a reporter to the
hospital—personal quetions. My pub
! lishers never forgave me.”
“Publishers?” said Allenbury, his
eyes wandering vaguely.
“I’m a writer,” explained Chandler
quickly. “Right now I’m doing some
fishing yarns.”
“Really?” said his host, without
any response to the skillful introduc
tion of his hobby, his eyes still turn
’ ed away. Bill followed the direction
lof his gaze and saw Connie Allen-
I bury, beautiful in a pure white dinner
gown, coming towards them.
“Mr. Chandler, who saved your
' life! My daughter, Mr. Chandler.”
“Oh, yes, indeed,” said Connie,
barely glancing at him as she slid
into a seat beside her father. “Thanks
so much. Oh, father, guess who’s
with us! Mrs. Van Arsdale and that
dreadful daughter! W’e eluded them
all over Europe and here they are on
the same boat!”
“We’re in for it,” replied her fath
er resignedly. “They’ll be asking us
to dinner.
“They’ll have to find us first!”
responded Connie. “I’ve been ducking
them all day.” She turned to Chand
ler vaguely. “Are you having fun,
Mr. ”
“Chandler, I’m simply in stitches.”
“How lovely . . . Father, did you
cable about my plane?”
“No, I’m chartering one. Leave it I
“Tell Graham to send a radio
gram. I’m dying to feel the stick in
my hands again ... Do you fly, |
Mr. ”
“Chandler. I crossed with Lind
bergh a couple of times. But fishing
is really my sport."
Graham arrived to tell his employ
er it was 7:30 and Allenbury and his
daughter, arose to leave, and nothing
at all had happened, when Babs Van
Arsdale, a buxom blonde, and her
thin mother bore delightedly down
upon them.
“Thanks for joining us,” said Mr.
Allenbury, offering Chandler a hand.
“Nice to have seen you. If we ever
need help again I hope you are
around.”
Babs Van Arsdale came gushing
forward. “Hello, Connie. We’ve been
looking all over the boat for you!”
“My dear, it’s so nice to see you
again!” gushed her mother. “I missed
I you in London. Bert will be so pleas
ed we are crossing together. And
you’re joining me for dinner. I won’t
take ‘no’!”
“We’d love to, but—” said Mr. Al
lenbury, seeking an excuse.
Bill, who had been a few steps
away and had not even been noticed,
now stepped forward.
“Sorry, if Im late, J. B. I had to
get an important wire off.”
“Hugh? What?” said the bewild
i ered great man.
“Shall we go in to dinner now?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Connie,
after a moment, having got the drift
of his remark. “Sorry, but we’re hav
ing dinner with Mr. Chalmers.” She
intrdouced Babs and her mother neg-
I ligently.
“Can’t we all have dinner togeth
er?” asked Babs, ogling Chandler.
“They’re going to talk business,”
said Connie quickly.
“Yes, you see, I’m a writer and
Mr. Allenbury and I are doing a book
together,” explained Bill.
“But too lovely!” exclaimed Mrs.
Van Arsdale. “You must tell me
about it tomorrow. I’m always up for
lunch!” She and her daughter reluc
tantly passed on, and Mr. Allenbury,
not very enthusiastically, said:
“That was quick thinking. We’re
indebted to you again.”
Connie gave Chandler a look that
was none too friendly, but said
sweetly: “Well, shall we keep our
dinner engagement?”
Bill bowed formally and offered
his arm. She barely touched it as the
three started for the dining room.
(To be continued.)
IC. 1936, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Corp.
Excuses for Others
Make excuses for others but not
for oneself.
A CHRISTMAS MESSAGE
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A PBOOUCT OF THI WOSLPS LASOIST MAPI MAXIM
Born in Yorkshire
Miles Coverdale, English Bible
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