The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1930-06-21
CHAPTER SIXTEEN


A PREVIOUS thought required
IA to her: attempted sef-de-
struction was a crime; perhaps it
was to avoid the consequence of
crime that the desperate risk of
moving Jennings had been taken.
Still, if the hotel people had al
ready not informed the police, what
had made Eleanor think that they
later would tell the authorities?
Perhaps, though, Jennings had
been taken to some hospital. But
in that case an ambulance would
have been summoned, Cynthia
thought, and the clerk would have
made some remark to indicate that.
But more important than any of
this was something else Why
hadn't Eleanor telephoned her? 1t
was hard to believe that, even with
Jennings dying before her eyes,
Eleanor would be so reckless of the
consequences of discovery Of the de-
ceit being practiced upon Carey that
she would fail to keep her word to
Cynthia.
Yte she had done so. And not be-
cause of the strain of witnessing
Jennings disillusion; the fact that
the wounded man had been re-
moved seemed to indicate that his
condition had improved.
But why. then?
The question was unanSwerable,
unless Cynthia chose to believe that
Eleanor had become suddenly utter
" reckless, not cautiously daring. al
though one could hardly character
ize her daring as being mitigated
with much caution.
Still. she had not embarked upon
a prolonged absence from her hus-
band without placing Cynthia in the
center of the bridal festivities. She
had not intended to leave her hus-
band for long, apparently, when in
response to Jennings frantic letter,
she had slipped away from her Ia
theirs home.
IL was hardly credible, no matter
how much she loved Jennings. that
she would have remained with him
unless the miracle of Cynthia had
happened.
AS she phraSed the thought, Gym
thla's lips curled at the word she
had chosen. Miracles had to do, she
thought, with goodness in the part
that she hac been playing this day.
Well, it was a part that no longer
could be played. She had gone with
Dean Carey to the new Carey home,
she had stayed there more than
two hours. she had submitted to an
embrace ana returned it.
Her cheeks ubrned now at memory
of that embrace and she hated her
self because her blush was less OF
shamed embarrassment than of
agony because it never coulo have
q repetition.
She had given Eleanor ample
time. and tragic farce, SO far as
CYNTHIA was concerned. was ended.
She would return to her shabby
little flat on Forty-eighth street.
Yer lips parted in excitement
i i Why. of course. that would be
the obvious destination of Eleanor.
She would. if she was to escape the
prying curiosity of the employees OF
the Burlingame. take Jennings to
Cynthia's apartment.
She leaned forward and instructed
the taxi man, whom first she had
told to drive up Fifth avenue, to
take her to West Forty-eighth
street. There she would find Flea
nor, and there she would become
Cynthia Brown again and Eleanor
would take up those responsibilities
which she had evaded the last few
hours.
That is-and doubt and fear crept
into her mind-if her reasoning
proved correct and she found Flea
nor. But what if it wasn't correct?
What if she didn't find Eleanor?
I But these were questions that she
even refused to put to herself as
yet.
The Negro telephone clerk still
revolved a cigaret from corner to
corner of his mouth, apparently
swallowing it with a new ease
gained by additional practice.
The dingy lobby. the creaking ele-
avator. the shabby hall above. the
gerly furnished apartment into