The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1926-01-27

ago from Cape Town, with a mon
key, a little black boy servant, and
a magnificent black diamond from
the Kimberley works. cut at Tiff
fany's.
"They say her wardrobe is Afri-
can, too, with dazzling white linen
and a leopard skin coat and what
not. Always the good Snowman,
Lydia?'
Barbara was listening intently.
"I myself saw a dramatic incident
in a restaurant the day after she
got back. She was dining there with
some male h~anger-on Of exotic as
pect. Shouldn't wonder il he was a
sheik in A-mericanized costume,
brought back from her travels.
Anyhow, the lady was having a.
nice time with him. looking over the
edge OF her wine glass at him with
those tawny eyes Of hers and lolling
back in her new African furs.
IT watched the poor devil with a
mingled sense OF envy and pity. Be
tween the moments Of dizzy bliss
there were moments when he looked
the NEST wretched man alive.
AT last they o to go. And to
my establishment, I saw that young
architect you used to know APP
preaching Lydia from across the
room. She did not see him until he
was directly in front of her. halding
out his hand. And then with a toss
OF her head. she gave him the most
beautiful cut you ever saw, and
swept out Of the room, with the AT
rican oddly following her.
Young Reynolds stepped back
staring blankly after her. And there
were filters on all sides from diners
who had seen the incident. 1t was
the most perfect example 1 ever saw
Of the guilty part ytaking spite out
on the innocent victim of his own
wrongdoing. Lydia simply couldn't
bear the sight of the man, because
she had once. injured him. But
evidently the architect doesn't know
that she had anything to do with
the Vale Acres expose
Doesn't know" gasped Barbara.
NO. and it's a crime, too. She's
getting all the credit for freeing him
in the trial. And he was probably
about to thank her for her testimony
when she delivered the cut and
stalked away. Some day. when l
get a good chance, I'm go.ng to tell
that young man where We got the
tip on Vale Acres.
I'm not a crusader for justice,
or anything ike that, but something
within me cries for Lydia to get
hers"
McDermott looked at Barbara and
she dropped her eyes. He used to be
a good friend Of mine" she said,
land he always gave me the credit
for the expose.
"All the more reason for me to
set him right" -. declared McDermott.
But tell me about Fancy, 1t seems
we misjudged that whippersnarrer
husband OF hers, after ALL"
Fl HE first home editions of the
III I>Telegraph were out when
Barbara emerged from Nc
Dermott's office. She took one and
strolled back to the C1aypool with it
under her arm.
In the lobby she sat down to look
at II A two-column picture Of her
self confronted her from the first
page. II the picture in the morgue
had not looked like a success, this
one did.
The headline said, Former Indian
apolis girl wins in Gotham"
The story began. '"Indianapolis is
as good a town as New York." says
Miss Barbara Hawley, former e
porter for the Telegraph. who is Wis.
iting in town today. Miss Hawley
comes directly from New York City,
where she has SCORED a signal sue
cess in magazine work.
"'I'd as soon work for the Indian
apolis Telegraph as for Tn paper in
Manhattan, declares Miss lIawley."
"Oh, my heavens" said Barbara
under her breath. and laid the sheet
down suddenly.
She went up to her room and stood
looking in the mirror for some min
utes. Her clothes were different
from Indianapolis clothes. There
was more swagger in her bearing.
But there were lines about her eyes
which had not been there when she
left six months ago.
She left her key at the desk down
stairs, a few minutes later, and
turned back to the telephone oper-
ator suddenly. "Have there been
any calls for me this morning.
mo there haven't. Miss Hawley.
Barbara turned away.
She caught the two-thirty motor
bus for her old home.
When she started down the street
toward her mothers home, there
was not a human being in sight.
The houses on either side were
grayer, more hopeless than she re-
membered them.
She went on down the street. The
big brick house on the corner was
much the same in appearance as 1t.
had always been. But there was a
broken windowlight upstairs and the
grass had not been cut.
\ In front Of the bungalow farther
down, in which Wilma Collins had
lived, a gray and tattered washing
Tapped on a line across the lawn.
And on the top step. which was
cracked and painless, there sat, in
stead CT Wilma's spirited Boston