The Willamina times., October 19, 1933, Page 2, Image 2

Thursday, Octolicr 19, 1933
TIM ES, W ILLAM INA, OREGON
Page 2
B E T T E R T ER M S
Landlady—You’ll have to pay your
HU or leave.
Lodger—Thnt’e very nice of yon.
Uy last landlady made ine do both.
T a n g le d W iv e s
To keep clean and healthy take O r .
They regulate
iver, bowels and stomach.— A d v .
e ie r e e 'a P le a s a n t P e lle t s .
B y PEGGY SHANE
T N U Service
Copyright by Peggy Shane
CHAPTER I
The world was black. Then red cir­
cles poured In. They were swallowed
by purple rings. She was lost. Vast
hallways opened. She was going Into
a strange world. She was riding. She
was going somewhere.
“Ton fainted, dearest I t ’s been too
much for yon."
She wa9 burning h o t She was full
of something like fear, but It was
worse than fear. It flamed and crack­
led up as if she stood in the midst of a
Are. She gasped as if smoke choked
her.
••Poor darling."
She kept her eyes closed. She felt
a motion of something under her, car­
rying her.
“Open your eyes, dear."
But she did not She did not want
to see the person who spoke to her.
She knew she was in a vehicle of some
kind, going somewhere.
Cautiously, she clutched at the seat
beneath her, running her fingers over
cool leather.
She half opened her
eyes, A taxicab. She was riding In a
taxicab. She shivered and closed her
eyes again.
“You’re all rig h t sweet"
I t was a man’s voice. She hated I t
She turned her head away from Its
presence. Beneath lifted lids she saw
the streets of New York. A large firm
hand closed over hers.
•Tm afraid It’s been a shock."
She kept her head averted.
“Poor sweet"
“I don't—”
“Don’t talk, darling."
She turned and looked at the man
beside her. Dark earnest eyes plumbed
hers anxiously.
H is tanned face wa3 flushed. His
brow was damp.
“You don’t what, sweet?”
H is thin mouth was twitching. She
stared at It blankly.
“You don't what?”
“I don't know.” She gave a long
sigh and closed her eyes.
Waves
swept over her. She was losing some­
thing, or wa3 it already lost? Her fa­
m iliar self was fleeing. She opened
her eyes. She straightened her hat.
“Feeling better?"
She searched his face. Every curve
was strange. Who was he? He spoke
as If he knew her well. Yet she could
not remember him.
“All right now?”
Who was he? His smile was terrl
fying. She could not remember him.
How had she got there? Where had
she been before? Who was he? Who
was anybody? She did not even re­
member her own name.
She sat straight and tense, her eyes
wide open and frightened. The loss
of her identity did not matter. I f only
she could get away from this horri­
ble man.
His fingers were on hers again. Her
eyes took him In furtively. He was
young, yes, young, well-dressed and In
a way good looking.
“You need something to drink.”
“ No. no. Tm all rig h t"
•Tm going to get you a bromide.”
“I ’ll take nothing."
H e set his Jaw. There was a drug
store In the next block.
She thought: I must get away from
him. She thought It so strongly there
was no room for her to wonder even
about the loss of memory.
H e was rapping on the glass win­
dow of the cab. "You’ll feel better as
soon as you’ve swallowed something
soothing.”
“Please don’t bother."
The driver turned a roughly shaved
face toward them.
“Stop at that drug store ahead."
She shook her head. “I won’t take
anything."
The cab was slowing down.
“Yes you w ill.” His smile was wan
and anxious. “I ’ll get them to mix
something to make you feel better.
It's the h— 1 of a Jam. No wonder yon
fainted.”
She did not ask what the Jam was.
She was filled with dread. But her
eyes were determined.
She would
take nothing from him. The cab was
stopped.
The driver leaned toward
them.
“Can’t get right up in front of the
place.”
“This will do.” The young man’s
baud was already on the latch. “Come
on. But no, you better wait here. I ’ll
bring it out to you." He was forcing
a smile. He was suffering. She saw
th a t But she did not pity him. He
went down the street, turned Into the
drug store. As she saw the last of him
through the swinging doors, she was
flooded with relief. She sat paralyzed.
H e was gone. She leaned forward,
The C om m on P e o p le
“The statesman must make It his
lusiueas to look after the well-being
»t 'the man In the street’ ’’— Benito
Mussolini.
steadying herself against the glass be­
hind the driver. “Drive on," she said.
“D rive on."
The man turned his bead slowly,
looked at her stupidly.
“Drive on.” she repeated. “Go on."
“ His heavy Jaw dropped. "You want
me to drive on?”
“Yes. Go on.”
H e bent to his gears. “Where to?"
“ Straight ahead."
She relaxed, trembling. W ith a
screeching of the gears, the car crawled
Into traffic. She watched the door of
the drug store with terror. They
passed it safely. He might come out
at any moment H e might run after
the cab, waving and shouting.
“T urn at the next corner. Turn
le ft"
“No left turn. Miss."
“Then turn rig h t Only, turn. And
then go on and I'll tell you when to
stop."
H er fear was receding. She was
weak with relief and a curious sense
of triumph. The cab had turned.
She drew a long breath. The air
was soft and springlike. The avenue
was full of brightly painted new cars.
She was feeling better. A clock In the
street told her that It was half-past
four.
H er own watch verified the
hour.
“Through the park. Miss?"
“Yes.”
Where was she going? Where was
her home? Perhaps in a few minutes
It would all come back to her. She
composed herself, sat tensely In the
cab, trying to be calm, trying to be
rational, trying to remember. Who
bag and found a little mirror. Her
eyee, young nna frightened, looked
back at her. There was not a wrinkle
to be seen In the soft contours of her
white face. She was glad she was
still young. She hadn’t felt old.
She could not tell much about her
face though she spent some time In
spectlng It. Then she turned her at­
tention to her hand bag. She drew out
a handkerchief. It was of sheer white
linen with the initial D embroidered In
one corner. "D,” she thought, "stands
for Dorothy—or Daisy. 1 wonder If
one of those names could be mine?
Or Della? Or Drusilla?”
It was bewildering to be able to
think of so many names. It was ex­
asperating. She did not believe that
any of those names belonged to her.
She returned to the exploration of
her bag, and drew out a black en­
ameled compact This seemed to have
her monogram on It In raised gold let­
ters, but so elaborate was the design
that she could not puzzle out what
the letters were. The D was clear
enough but whether the other two let­
ters were N and M, or V and W she
could not decide.
There was no card; nothing else but
a bill-fold and a coin purse. She saw
with relief that she had plenty of
money with her.
"At least,” she
thought. “I won’t starve until I find
out who I am and where I'm supposed
to go."
On her hands were some chamois
skin gloves. Now she striped them
off and looked down at her slim fingers.
On the third finger of her left hand
Was a platinum band set with tiny dla-
They bore two large, prominent let­
ters : D. V.
At last she had some definite clue
that would lead her back to herself,
or the person she had been. A bellboy
popped out of the quietly pretentious
doorwny, and seized them eagerly. She
tipped the doorman generously, and
followed the bellboy.
As she mounted the stairs she felt
sure that she would remember every­
thing In a moment Her name was D.
V. Miss Drusilla Vance, or— Miss Dor­
othy Vane say— or— or Miss Debornh
Valentine.
It was absurd and annoying that
Just the right name didn’t come. She
drew on her glove, half nervously, and
her linger struck against her wedding
ring. Instantly all her bravery fled.
Miss Drusilla Vance I Miss Dorothy
Vane! Why, she was married. She
was Mrs. Somebody. Mrs. D. V. And
then her imagination traveled straight
back to the man she bad left In the
drug store.
Sweet he had called her, and Dar­
ling I
So that was her husband.
Her husband was a man she feared
and hated.
She shivered. “No wonder I lost my
mind." she said to herself half-cheer-
fully. “Perhaps he’s saved the mort­
gage on my dear old home, and I’ve
had to marry him out of gratitude;
aud on account of my conscience I ’ve
been living with him; so now some
kind fate has made me lose ray mem­
ory, so I won’t have any conscience
about leaving him."
Then, “Perhaps, after all. be Isn’t
my husband— "
The slow minor strains of the string
orchestra came from the ten room.
Something gripped her h eart Perhaps
she was going to remember. She knew
the song. The words said themselves
to her In a long, sinister drawl.
Oh
g iv e
me
»
Why the Sudden
Change to Liquid
Laxatives?
Doctors have always recognized the
value of the laxative whose dose can
be measured, and whose action can
be controlled.
The public, too, is fast returning
to the use of liquid luxatives. People
have learned tnat a properly pre­
pared liquid laxative brings a perfect
movement without any discomfort
at the time, or after.
The dose of a linuid laxative can
be varied to suit the needs of the
individual. The action can thus be
regulated. I t forms no habit; you
need not take a “ double dose” n day
or two later. Nor will a mild liquid
laxative irritate the kidneys.
k
The wrong cathartic mag keep you
constipated as long as gou keep on
using it.
D r. Caldwell’s Syrup Pepsin is •
prescription, and is perfectly safe.
Its laxative action is based on senna
— a natural laxative. The bowels will
not become dependent on this form
of help. D r. Caldwell’s Syrup Pepsin
is at all druggists. Member N . It . A .
Is your rest
disturbed ?
s o m e th in g
To remember you by!
W hen
I f Only Sha Could Get A w ay From T hia H orrible Man.
was her mother? Who was her father?
“Look here,” she whispered, “you must
know somebody, even If you’re an
orphan. Just think of some one per­
son that you know. Anybody at all
will do. Picture somebody's facel”
Thus commanded, across her vlsloD
floated the picture of the taxi driver.
Then the face of the man she had left
in the drug store emerged clearly In
her mind's eye. And that was alL
She began straining her eyes at
every one In the streets. Surely some­
one or something would give her a
clue as to who she was, where she
ought to go. She seemed to know New
York, she thought with a feeling of
gratitude. She could go to a hotel at
least.
“Around the park again?” The cab­
man questioned.
“No. Take me to the Biltmore."
She spoke with decision. She did
not know why she said the Biltmore.
But she was glad that her wits seemed
to be returning. But what she would
do after she got to the hotel she
couljJ not say. It dawned on her then
that the young man she had left in the
drug store was her single link with her
past.
She drew her fox neckpiece closely
about her chin. Where had she got
the fur? Her clothes were very new
She racked her brains In order to think
where she had put them on.
She
could not remember where she had
dressed that morning. “I wonder what
my face is like,” she thought suddenly,
“perhaps I ’m an old woman!’’
With anxious fingers she opened her
you
a re
fa r
aw ay
fro m
m e.
<
She was walking slowly In rhythm
to Its tedious beat as she repeated the
words. But they brought no further
recollections. Strange that a song
should remain when nothing else did.
She moved along obscurely, but with
an Inner defiance. She was not a
phantom and the silly dream would
have to end. Hadn't she showed that
she was no phantom by leaving her
husband? Some girls wouldn't have
been as daring. She hoped she wouldn't
meet him.
"Register?” asked the clerk. The
bellboy carrying her luggage had led
her to the desk.
She flushed. What should she put
down? Mrs. Drusilla Vance?
But she couldn’t
She hesitated.
“Not— not y e t"
She turned to the
bellboy. “Take care of my bags for a
few moments," she sold, handing him
a dollar. “I ’ll be right back."
She had thought of the long mirror
In the ladles’ room. Surely one good
look at her face and figure would
bring back something Im portant She
walked rapidly now. feeling more hope­
ful. Wasn’t there something uncon­
sciously directing her? Even If she
had no positive recollections, wasn’t
she coming here at the bidding of some
hidden
memory?
She
fervently
hoped so.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
monds. “I'm married.” This was un
real. It was unexpected as a blow be­
tween the eyes. She stared at the ring
wonderlngly and whispered to herself
unbelievingly. “I ’m married I"
The cab stopped with a Jerk. She
looked up. She was at the Vanderbilt
entrance to the Biltmore. The uni­ Waldsemueller Map First
to Bear America’s Name
formed hotel doorman was opening the
Map-making received a new impetus
door.
She took hold of her purse firmly with the discovery of America. Each
and prepared to get out.
returning explorer, saj-a a writer In
“How much?”
the S t Louis Globe-Democrat brought
“Dollar-sixty.
Don’t forget your tales of a new found land which
caused many changes and alterations.
bags.”
H er bags! She was startled. The And until the time of Mercator— In the
driver indicated the seat beside him­ Sixteenth century—all maps were em­
self. It was loaded down with very bellished with all sorts of fantastic
creatures that were supposed to in­
smart-looking luggage.
She watched the doorman pull down habit the little known world. Here
two swagger looking bags of snake- were to be found men with dog’s heads;
skin, and an enormous hatbox of the men with no headB at all but with
eyes, nose and mouth Implanted I d
same extravagant material.
“Wouldn’t do to go off and leave their chests; men who used one big
these,” commented the doorman good- foot for an um brella; cows with
wings; roosters as big as horses;
naturedly.
Noah’s Ark with dormer windows.
“No— of course not.” She was con
Mercator broke with such traditions
fused by the sense of many people, the
sounds of cabs honking. The cabman and drew s world chart on the “Mer­
cator Projection’’ which in modified
waiting for his money, and the helpful
attendant both bothered her, because form Is still In use today.
There was the Waldsemueller map
she wanted to look at her bags, take
of 1507, the first to bear the name of
them somewhere and examine them
carefully. Surely when she read her America. It was lost for centuries
until discovered In a German library
own initials they would remind her of
I d 1901 by aD Austrian professor. An.l
her name, and her past.
She pulled out two bills, and handed then there was Orteiius. whose “The­
them to the driver. As he let his car ater of the World” ran Into thirty-
move into the traffic she turned and three editions, starting in 1570. It Is
looked at the bags piled on the side­ regarded as the parent of the modern
walk before the hotel.
1 Atlas.
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A . O . L E O N A R D , In c .
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