The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1929-03-21

i asked, as she hung up hat and coat,
and fiuffed her golden curls before
I the washstand mirror.
ooh, nothing much" BirdWel
drawled YEARLY. Nothing except
that Commissioner Weeks has been
here handing out nice, hot little
samples Of he'll.
"You'd think, to hear that guy
talk. that nobody hadn't done any
thing but twiddle their thumbs or
play tiddly-winks since you STUN
bled over Borden's body yesterday
morning. AS the chief says to him"
and Birdwell jerked his head to-
ward Borden's private Office. where
McMann was presumably hard at
Work-"he says, Give us time, Com
missioner.
1--WE amt been on this job thirty
hours yet,' he says, and the Big
Noise comes back at him with this
kinda proposition: If you can't
make an arrest by five o'clock to-
day, McrIann,' he says, I'll assign
the case to Lieutenant Pryor
Hunh! I know Pryor! He'll clap
everybody in sight in jail, and then
say 'Eenie meenie miney mo- to
see which ons did it,
And what did Mr.. McMann say
to that?" Ruth asked, smiling
cheerfully
ooh, this and that" Birdwell told
her YEARLY, "but the gist of it was
that he guessed over sweetie, Hay
ward, would have to be the goat.
Thought I'd tip you Off"
Thanks awfully, Mr.. Birdwell!"
Ruth replied, but to the detectives
obvious amazement her smile was
not whit less cheerful. us Com
missioner Weeks still with Mr.. Nc
Mann?"
mo, he's toddled on off to bright
en- up another dark corner" Bird
we'll grinned, "but Borden's lawyer
"a la-de-da chappie, with a cane
and spats and everything-dropped
in a few minutes ago to lend help
ing hand. NIcMann phoned him to-
bring in Handsome Harry'S' will.
But if you want to see the chief I'll
call him out for you.''
mo. I've got job to do that's
going to keep me very busy indeed
for the next few minutes" Ruth
answered, as she sat down to her
desk and took the cover from The
typewriter that had stood idle since
the abrupt termination of her
career as private secretary to-
Handsome Harry" Borden.
Il
EOR a few minutes, however, her
H. hands lay inert on the keys, and
her brows were knit in mighty
froWn of concentration. Then, with
an exclamation of excited triumph,
she quickly rolled sheet of yellow
paper into the machine and began
to type with furious haste.
AS page after page was filled with
her flawless tipping, Birdwell looked
on with growing interest, when he
was not engaged in answering tele-
phone calls from police headquar-
tiers.
What are you writing-a serial
Story?" he asked at last, unable to
restrain his curiosity.
I'm afraid it does sound lot
like fiction-of the old-fashioned
penny dreadful kind" Ruth laughed
without hating her flying fingers.
She had just drawn the last sheet
from her typewriter with an excited,
triumphant "There!" when the door
between the two offices opened and
the detective sergeant followed
closely by a dapper little man, who
had evidently used a. certain famous
mayor as his sartoria1 guide,
emerged, exchanging farewell
courtesies.
"WhewI That guys so polite he
makes me want to kick him in the
seat of his pearl-gray pants to see
if he'd say, 'Phank you, my dear
Mr.. McMann! Thank your" the
detective sergeant growled when the
lawyer had bowed and smiled him
self out of his dead clients office.
But I'm glad he came, anyway.
Come on in, Miss Lester, and I'll
tell you all about it"
Before obeying, Ruth Lester gath
cred up the four typed sheets of
what Birdwell had called a serial
story" and folded them into a small
square which she tucked away safely
in the pocket of the brown velveteen
frock she was wearing.
"a mans will is a pretty good in
dex to his character" McMann be-
gan, after he and Ruth had seated