The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1929-03-13
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i detective sergeant's return, Ruth
Lester had opportunity to study the
woman about whom her curiosity
had been raised to an extraordinary
pitch-the woman who might never
have been involved in the investi-
cation of Harry Borden'S murder
if it had not been for her--Ruth's-
interference.
Ruth saw no longer young, but
still lovely woman-tall, very slen-
der, graceful. Beneath the brim of
a long-worn, but still smart dark
blue felt hat pair of great dark
eyes-their brilliance heightened by
the mascara which frankly beaded
the lashes-surveyed the room in
which her former lover had died,
then came to rest inquiringly upon
Ruth.
I'm Ruth Lester. worked
here" Ruth answered the unspoken
inquiry, tactfully avoiding the
name of the murdered man.
THANK YOU" Martha Manning
murmured. Then, releasing the full
glory of the voice that Ruth knew
so well and which had been thrice
described since Borden had died:
81 am Miss Manning. May I take
off my coat, please"
Ruth watched her remove the
well-cut but slightly shabby gar
ment of dark blue cloth, trimmed
with worn black sealskin, revealing
straightline frock of silk crepe,
almost the exact shade of red as
the rouge spots on her thin, heavily
powdered cheeks, and the brilliant
salve on her lips.
TOO much makeup" Ruth told
herself, "but somehow it suits her"
MISS MANNING laid her coat
kVK on the back of the chair which
Ruth offered, then seated herself
upon it, crossing her knees, SO that
one foot swung free, unconsciously
revealing to Ruth the fact that the
meticulously brushed black suede
| pumps had been half-soled.
| She waited calmly, her black
gloved hands loosely clasped about
a small black leather handbag in
her lap, her face in repose, her dark
eyes gazing steadily at one of the
windows that looked out upon the
street.
If she was nervous, apprehen-
sive, she concealed it admirably.
She made no f1uttery movements,
did not raise a hand to pat the
scallops of soft black hair that out
lined her artistically madeup face;
did not fish in her handbag for lip
stick or compact with which to add
| touches to an already perfect job of
personal adornment.
/, Nor did she speak again. She
simply waited. And when at last
McMann entered the room she
greeted him, in that organ-like con-
tralto voice, as courteously and
calmly as if they were meeting at
a social function.
you're Miss Manning? Martha
Manning?" McMann asked abrupt
ly, when he had seated himself at
the dead mans desk and was ready
with his inevitable pencil and pad
to scratch paper.
"I am"
Living at the Acropolis Hotel?"
Eyes. I am employed there, as
Mr.. Carlson has undoubtedly told
you," the woman answered cour-
teously, with no hint of resentment.
"Just what do you do there?"
81 operate the switchboard. My
salary, exclusive of my room rent,
is $40 week"
And your hours on duty?"
Prom 6 in the morning until
half-past II. I accepted the posi-
ton because the hours are short.
My health is not very good, re-
quiring me to spend number Of
hours each day in the open air."
Miss Manning replied calmly, but
then suddenly she betrayed either
nervousness or the call of a long
INDUCED habit: do you mind if I
smoker"
"Nervous?" McMann grinned, as
the woman stripped the gloves from
her hands and opened her bag to
extract a package of lucent ciga-
retS.
She had no cigaret case. Perhaps,
Ruth thought pityingly, Borden had
once given her just such an eXpen-
sive case as Cleo Gilman had dis
played in that Office an hour before,
but if so. it had undoubtedly gone,
along with Borden's other rich gifts,
to pay her. small sons expenses at
boarding school.
Ten dollars a week and a tiny
hotel room for five andeaA half hours
work day! Suddenly Ruth felt
slightly i'll, ashamed.
"DRAW your chair up to the desk
Dso you can reach this ash
tray" McMann suggested, his voice
noticeably less harsh.
THANK you," Martha Manning
replied simply, and obeyed. In the
new position her body was turned
squarely toward Ruth, but her head,
on its long, slender, lined neck-an
age revealing neck-inclined cour-
teously toward her inquisitor.
Miss Manning" McMann began
again, in crisp, business-like man
ner, what was your relationship to
Henry P Borden?"
Rather less than-nothing,"
Martha Manning answered slowly.
Il was merely a-former-friend.'
"a former-lniStresS, you mean,
don't you?" McMann asked bluntly
Natural color crept from that
patheticallv thin throat and blended