The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-06-01
. sERlALSTORY
 DATE WITH DANGER ..9s. BY HELEN ..! v. McsDsN =e s

He had the right to censure her if he wanted to. No, he hadn't. She never wanted to see him again. No man had the right to talk that way to girl. She hated him.
 A poised and self-confldent Mary Franklin met Duke Martin at Peters, a quiet, neutral little cafe, an hour later.
 He looked impressive in his dark blue homespun suit, mauve shirt and Charvet tie. A little too care fully planned, perhaps, rather fiashy, but certainly in character.
 Mary's costume was more re- served; wine-red wool with smart ly cut black fur jacket. She smiled as she shook hands with Martin, but there was no compromise in her brown eyes. The headwaiter, recog- nizing them both, led the way to a table for two marked Reserved"
 Martin smiled. You pull the same racket we do. Keep a couple of choice ones fenced in for spe- cial customers"
 It was evident that the Duke was not in his best mood.
 "Well, what do you want" he asked, as he and Mary sat down. A waiter hovered at his elbow.
 Before she could answer, he said, Don't talk, let's give the order to this gnat and get rid of him."
 With the waiter sent scurrying on his business, Martin again put his question to Mary.
 Leave Clem Shirley alone" Mary answered. Remember, the Janice French case isn't settled yet"
 T didn't come here to waste my time making fool promises"
 If you don't leave Clem Shirley out of the picture, I'll start Fene- lon on this tack" said Mary Briefly. You've got to stop seeing that girl"
 Your business is writing, isn't it? Ever try short stories?"
 Occasionally"
 Here's one without an end. Per- haps you can nish it." He studied haps you can finish it." He studied What a lousy cellar they've got! I didn't run rum for nothing" He beckoned to the waiter. Two pinch bottle Scotch high-balls and let me see the bottle."
 Passing Mary cigaret from his case and lighting one himself, he leaned back in his chair.
 T can vouch for the truth of this story" he said. i've always thought it would make a damned good yarn provided it ended the right way. There was clever young gal on paper in city not far from here who didn't always recognize trouble when she saw it. Some people have a hunch about danger and some haven't. Now that's why I'm still this side of Sing Sing. I can smell danger"
 Mary's lips frightened. You must have lost your sense of smell. l wouldn't call your position exactly healthy"
 "Nor is yours," Martin snapped, "The gal in my story has her choice between living a long and happy life with her pretty boy managing editor. Oh, I'm not so dumb" he said, as an angry flash colored Mary's face. Or passing up the wedding bells for a cold, white slab in morgue just where girl friend of hers landed, because she couldn't keep her fingers out of other peoples business. Which1l it be?"
 Mary laughed. You talk like a dime novel. Drop the comedy. There's only one end to your story. The girl doesn't wind up on the morgue slab. She doesn't marry the managing editor, but she does save the life of a sweet child who might have landed in the morgue herself if your newspaper girl hadn't stepped in"
 i've warned you. For your health's sake you'd better stay out of my business and out of the Dove"
 "The New York Gazette doesn't stay out of any honky tonk," Mary said sharply, "even if the chairs are covered with silk and the walls with tapestries"
 She rose abruptly. "Well at least, Duke, we know where we stand. I've just got time to make Janice French's funeral Would you like to come along?"
 "No, thank you"
 The people who moved in the Trenches social sphere were the sort that liked to be in good time for funerals. Although the notice in the papers had said Services pri- vate," St. Thomas was filled when Mary arrived. A dull, stodgy lot, for the most part, she thought Old Mrs. Ward, Janice's great-aunt, hobbled in ahead of her She wore a long black crepe veil over her black Persian lamb coat and she leaned on two canes. Mrs. Ward belonged to Janices mothers people.
 MT. French, his slight figure looking even more frail in black, took not the slightest notice of his wife's aunt White head bowed, he knelt in prayer. Directly in front of the pew, resting on blanket of pink