Between The Lines By Grant Milton Sassaman
0
When Reporter
I AM indebted to Lafferty for
most of thla; Lafferty, the aa
slatant night city editor. He waa
in the office the night that Bill
McDade underwent his baptism
of remorse.
It happened a long time ago on
a hot summer night when neither
air nor news was stirring. Ten
years ago tonight, to be exact.
To understand how the thing
could have happened, one must
know McDade, Lafferty explained.
McDade, he said, was young and
good-looking and as brilliant as
he was courageous. The kind of
fellow who would face a firing
squad and calmly jot notes upon
his cuff while the executioners
aimed their weapons.
In those days the general as
signment men on the Morning
Call were paid on apace rates.
McDade was a space writer and
he let his imagination carry him
away sometimes, according to
Lafferty. His nimble mind and
long lean fingers would convert a
bonfire Into a conflagration and
a riot into a civil war.
But that's the trouble with
space writing. It always did en
courage padding; to the point at
times, when you couldn't tell fact
from fiction. But McDade got
away with it because he wrote so
convincingly. Lafferty told me
the reporter actually seemed to
believe much of the nonsense he
wrote. At least he believed it
while he was pounding It out
ON THAT night ten years ago
Bill McDade sat at his type
writer plucking away Industri
ously. The rest of the staff was
in misery, but McDade was ob
livious to the suffocating atmos
phere pressing downward like a
heavy pall.
He must have been writing
something that grazed his sense 1
of humor. A villainous briar was
clamped between his teeth, but
his Hps were twisted Into a half
grin.
Whatever it was he had been
writing, McDade stopped at once
when Ogden, who was night city
editor then, called his name. With
the grin still on his face he
walked up to the city desk.
"Just got a tip from the jani
tor up at the Arcadian Apart
ments," said Ogden. He swung
around on his swivel. "Believe it's
exclusive. Some young artist
woman took a fool notion to fall
off a third story balcony and get
killed. Don't know whether it's
suicide or an accident."
In an instant Ogden was busy
with the proofs on his desk. He
failed to see what Lafferty saw.
Lafferty was at the switchboard
behind Ogden. He saw McDade
wilt suddenly, aa If the heat had
got him all at once, and the grin
had vanished like magic from his
lips.
Then oome district reporter on
the phone was clamoring for at
tention. When Lafferty finally
looked up from the plugs, Mc
Dade had gone.
The first Intimation anyone had
of McDade's return was when
Lafferty heard the mad clatter of
the reporter's typewriter over in
the corner where he had his desk.
McDade usually wrote fast and
furiously, but now he was pound
ing the keys like a stenographer
gone berserk.
' Others In the office took notice
then and looked up. They saw
McDade leaning over his machine
with a face deathly white, hia
fingers working like pistons. Not
once did he glance up from his
copy; not even to light the pipe
lying on the pulled-out board of
his desk.
Lafferty probably waa the first
to realise something was wrong.
He missed very little that went
on in the office, just as he missed
little going on outside of It. He's
still a hellion for details, is Laf
ferty. And like an elephant, he
never forgets.
He said McDade seemed to
grow thinner aa he watched; that
the poor chap's very blood
seemed to be draining from hia
veins as If to moisten the type
chattering madly across the
pagea of copy, That'a the way
Lafferty put It He studied jour
nalism at a university, and hasn't
yet been able to rid himself of
such things.
IT WAS close to midnight when
McDade handed his copy to Og
den, together with the cut lines
for the photograph he'd already
sent In to the art department
Ogden fell upon the copy vo
raciously. Time and time again
he poised hia murderous blue pen
oil as though to slash out a word
CLASSIFIED
MANUSCRIPT! WANTED
WtNTIOl OK10INAL POIMI. WHO,, MMM
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Utottto Bird.. Wt Detroit Mich
McDade Wrote From His Heart A Complete Short Story
or a phrase, only to nod a grudg
ing approval and then read on.
And well he might approve, for
McDade had written a story that
was to burn itself upon the minds
of its readers forever. Never be
fore had Ogden read copy on a
story that ran so relentlessly on
ward to its close, trailing off at
last reluctantly, like the last sob
at a grave.
McDade even had reproduced a
letter which apparently prompted
the girl to commit suicide. Ogden
let it stand, though his brow
wrinkled with puzzlement when
ho read this:
"... and all the color fled
from her face as she finished
reading her sweetheart's letter.
With bloodless lips and staring
eyes she stood motionless like
a marble goddess in the cen
ter of the room. For fully a
minute she stood thus before
moving, wraith-like, out upon "
the veranda.
"Leaning over the low balus
trade, she slowly tore the let
ter Into tiny fragments. They
dropped from her hands and
fluttered like snowflakes to the
court below.
"With a moan of indescrib
able anguish she covered her
BUD: Well, another hour and
here's the first contestant to
try for the prize money. I see by
the application that you're a "con
versation juggler."
AMATEUR: Yes, sir.
BUD: And what would that
be?
A: It means I'm a vocal con
tortionist. BUD: Um-hum now we're
getting some place. But, if I'm
not too Inquisitive, what is it that
you really do?
A: To get right down to it, I'm
a ventriloquist.
BUD: Oh, one of those fellows
who strews language hither and
elsewhere?
A: Yea, air. I can throw my
voice out and step on it.
BUD : Marvelous. And you
think that sort of entertainment
is suitable for radio?
A: From the standpoint of
economy, it's a natural.
BUD: Well, anything that will
cut down talent costs is always
good for an amateur hour.
A: Sure I can be the whole
hour. I just surround myself with
a strong cast of cloth'r.g sore
dummies.
wSe,
1M .
Remember the old Chinese proverb, "One picture is worth a thousand words"! The gay bird n
the left here believes In signs, but "all clothing one-half off" doesn't even Interest his limber-legged
pal, who has found a picture that shows all clothing a good nine-tenths off.
face with her initialed handker
chief. Her body swayed for
ward against the railing and
toppled over it. She made no
outcry as she fell, and her 1 .
white evening gown glinted like
silver in the beams of a horri
fied moon. ..."
Not until he had sucked in the
last morsel did Ogden raise his
head. '
"McDade!" he bellowed. "That'a
the best " But McDade was no
longer standing at the city desk. -Lafferty
had looked up from his
plugs in time to see the reporter
gamble listlessly from the room.
Some, ' time later a copyboy t
tossed the city edition of the
Chronicle upon Ogden's desk. He
pounced upon it like a hawk on a
chick, ready to gloat over the
rival paper's meager display of
the night's big story.
- Suddenly he jumped to his feet
with a startled oath. His face was
comic In Its bewilderment and
dismay. Rushing over to the night
editor's desk, he shoved directly
in front of Wilton's horn-rimmed
spectacles that part of Down- '
ing's story which read:
"It was believed she lost her
balance while sitting upon the
BUD LAN PIS'
BUD: Yes ...
A: Then I act as master of
ceremonies. For each tryout I
prop one of the figures up In front
of the microphone.
BUD: I see then you juat toss
the repartee over to him.
A: Exactly. All I need is a J or
Miller joke book. I feed the gags
and then pull the answers in one
of my assorted accents. I can even
manipulate the gong.
BUD: Do tell! But haven't you
forgotten the studio technicians?
A: No, Indeed. You see, I'll
carry on the program dialogue by
talking with my fingers.
BUD: That would eliminate thp
sound, all right. But there's the
listening audience to consider.
A: Shucks, the listener could
snap off his radio and go to the
movies, couldn't he?
- BUD: Not a bad Idea. And that
leaves only you to contend with.
A: Well, sure so under the
circumstances, even T wouldn't
have to show up.
BUD: I'm in favor of that
A: And you could just mail me
the prize money check out to the
house.
SOUND: BONO!
Bargain Hunters!
balustrade, and fell backwards
to her death. Her body was so
battered that Identification
would have been impossible if
it hadn't been for the handker
chief clutched in her hand.
"Dora Wayne, despite her
youth, was considered one of
America's, most promising
women artists. She waa se
cretly betrothed to William Mc
Dade, a newspaperman. ..."
LAFFERTY said Wilton's pale
face turned a greenish hue.
Without a word he got to his feet
and strode 'over to McDade's
desk. Lying in the confusion of
papers on the desk waa an unfin
ished letter. McDade must have
snatched it hastily from the type
writer before he went out on the
story; or after he came in.
Dearest: the letter read,
By the time you get this yo'u
may have been amply repaid
for the scare you gave me last
week. I hardly think you've
fallen for it though, because
you know what a journalistic
liar I've become.
In Uiat case you may have
had more than a suspicion,
sweetheart, that the letter I
sent last night was a plain
farce. But you -must admit my
bitter denunciation of you was
rather convincing. Women are
intuitive and have the faculty'
of reading between the lines
With studied care old Wilton
took off his glasses and rubbed
his eyes. Lafferty always swore
that Wilton brushed away tears.
"That explains everything,"
Wilton muttered slowly. "He
knew. He knew, while the others
only guessed."
The unfinished letter dropped
from Wilton's fingers to the floor.
It lay there with edges curled up
wards like mocking fingers.
"You think she read between
the lines." breathed the night edi
tor tonelcssly. "By God. boy. she
didn't!"
A newsroom Is calm after the
- deadline, like the calmness that
' .follows a storm. The quietness
was doubly intensified now by the
dumb misery In every man's eyes
and the pity in his heart. Lafferty
said Wilton seemed to crumple
together. He went back to his
desk and sank limply into the
chair, mouth working sound
lessly. Ogden stood like a graven
image in the middle of the aisle,
hurt bewilderment still upon his
faae. Tragedy, pain and suffering
were not new to him. But up to
now he had regarded death with
clinical detachment; until tonight,
when the ugly specter had stalked
unseen through this very office.
Lafferty was the first to re
cover his wits. Without aaying a
.
word to anyone, he went out of
the newsroom and down the Btarra
to the street where he hailed a
taxicab. He gave the driver the
address of the Arcadian Apart
ments and told him to keep the
pedal down.
While the speeding taxi 'tossed
him around on the back seat,
Lafferty shaped his plans. He
would find McDade and inveigle
him into a speakeasy. Get the
fellow so drunk he'd forget
everything until the keen edge of .
remorse had worn off a bit.
AT THE apartment house Laf
ferty told the driver to wait.
In the hallway he found Dora
Wayne's apartment listed as C4.
He pushed the button and waited.
When the inner door buzzed, he
pushed through it and hurried up
the stairs, not bothering to look
for an elevator.
On the third floor he found a
door standing open with a ruddy
faced cop leaning against the
frame.
"Hello, Regan," said Lafferty,
glad there was a cop on guard
he knew. "Is anybody in there?"
" 'Lo, Laffy. "The cop scratched
his chin and nodded. "Yeah. Mc
Dade's here. He was all broke up,
I put 'em to sleep."
The' cop turned and re-entered
the room. Lafferty followed, clos
ing the door behind him. "How'd
you do it, Regan ?" He went over
to where McDade lay sprawled
upon a divan and looked down
pityingly upon the haggard face
Regan came near chuckling. "I
got Oswald, down at the corner,
to rig up one o' his forgetters. He
put everythin' In It but arsenic.
The 'janitor fetched it for me.
He's an obligin' chap, that jani
tor." McDade's coat was unbuttoned.
Lafferty saw that an envelope had
worked itself halfway out of the
coat's inside pocket. He leaned
down to push It back into place
and noticed it was sealed and ad
dressed, but not stamped.
He started to put the letter In
his own pocket meaning to post
lr for McDade; but the name on
Mexico "Coming Into Own" As
Tourists Discover Its Wonders
THROUGH Pullman trains bring
ancient Mexico City within
four days of the Pacific Coast
cities. Steaming down the coast
to Acapulco are comfortable
steamers at frequent Intervals.
Passengers leave the ship at, this
port, proceed by motor cars over
excellent highways to the capital
situated 7000 feet above the sea
under the snow-capped summit
of mighty Popocatepetl. After
several days in Mexico City the
return is made to the coast, touch
ing the beautiful cities of Cuer
navaca and Guadalajara. The
ride by train from- Guadalajara
to Manzanlllo is through mag
nificent mountain country over a
spectacular piece of railroad
building passing the quaint city
of Teplc and Tequila, surrounded
by miles of plantations growing
the type of cactus from which
the potent liquor of the same
name is made.
, To the student of history and
ethnology, as well as to the casual
pleasure-seeking visitor, Mexico
Is fascinating. Centuries before
the Spanish Conquistadors came,
it had a civilization comparable
QUESTIONS WERE
ANSWERED, BUT-
UNIVERSITY of California pro-
feasors at Berkeley are try
ing to decide whether or not col
legians , are working with their
tongues In their cheeks or well
'or something."
"Certainly the answers to some
examination paper questtona
couldn't bo written by stupid stu
dentsbut listen' to this," said
one instructor giving the follow
ing examples:
A 'hot cargo" Is a "shipment of
chorus girls!"
The Time ot Henry IV was "be
tween Henry III and Henry V."
The Christian era "was a
Roman goddess who waa Con
verted."
To the question "What gives us
our rights and what takes them
away?" one student answered:
"God gives them to us and the
Democrats take them away."
'HENS BRING HEALTH
AND WEALTH TO HIM
TO KEEP himself from thinking
of himself, Olen C. Hudson,
San Diego, youthful victim of In
fantile paralysis, started raising
chickens and finds that even so
' small a thing can lead to fame. He
has now achieved honors for his
Columbia Rock fowls In a national
egg laying contest held at Moun
tain Grove., Mo., where a pen of
A dark-haired young woman halted abruptly on the threshold.
She was slim, strikingly beautiful, and vaguely familiar.
the envelope caught his eye and
held it. Miss Dora Wayne! Why,
this must be the fatal missive!
A low exclamation of astonish
ment fell from Lafferty's Hps.
McDade had forgotten to send it!
Unless Lafferty turned around.
"Regan," he asked excitedly,
"were there any bits of paper,
like a torn-up letter, aroupd the
body7"
' Regan scratched his head
thoughtfully. "I was one o' the
first there," he said. "I didn't see
any, an' there wasn't no wind to
carry 'em away."
The other straightened up, put
ting the letter In his hip pocket
"What's that over there?" he
asked, pointing across the room.
In front of the fireplace stood an
easel bearing an unfinished can-
to that of the Egyptians, the
Chaldees and the early Greeks.
These peoples developed amazing
arts and crafts, reared mighty
temples, towers and pyramids,
which today are the problem of
' historians.
They had a written language of
hieroglyphics and the examples of
sculpture and painting reveal an
art consciousness far beyond any
thing of the time. In engineering,
In architecture and in science,
these Mayans, forebears of the
Toltccs and the Aztecs, left in
disputable evidences of their
achievements. The ruins of the
vast Temple of the God of Rain,
not far from Mexico Qity, with
the adjacent pyramids of the sun
and of the moon, indicate a
mighty metropolis once flourished
here.
Mexico, our southern neighbor,
takes one back to the dawn of
time it is as foreign in lan
guage, In atmosphere, as any of
the countries of Europe Is pic
turesque in customs and inhabi
tants and amazing in its variety.
It is a grand place for a winter
holiday.
Ave fowls laid 927 eggs in 51
weeks.
Twenty-three contests were
conducted by agricultural colleges
in America last year, and accord
ing to the American Poultry
Journal Hudson's entry has the
distinction of having been the
highest Columbia Rock pen and
also the highest individual pen
record for all contests.
Hudson has won many blue rib
bons on his pet hobby, and has
fought his way to health and hap
piness in the bargain.
NO. SUHI SOUTH
HAS NO CORNER
ON COON HUNTS
COON huntin' Is a fine art
'round about Sacramento
that Is if you "know how," says
W. A Wilson and Jack Mochan,
of that city, who recently bngged
five raccoons In two hours.
With their prize coon dogs the
pair went out In the Moltchimic
nvor district one afternoon re
cently and the dogs treed five In
almost no time
"It's easy when you Know where
to get them." Wilson said. "In the
east coons stay in wooded sec
tions, but in California they bed
down in marsh : and briar sec
tions." "Hides aro valued at $:i and $4
each," he Bald, "while the car
casses bring about seventy-live
cents from those who like the
meat.
vas. It was a life size portrait of
a young woman in a white eve
ning dress.
Regan looked from the easel to
Lafferty. "An" you'd be asking me
that, Laffy?" he reproved mildly.
"Can't you aee what it is?"
"I know, Regan. I know," said
the newspaperman wearily. "What
I mean is, what Is it doing here?
This is no studio."
"Oh," the cop brightened. "The
janitor told me she waa flnlshin'
the picture here because her stu
dio's way down town. The girl
doin the modelln is havin' trou
ble with her appendix or some
thin'. She lives close by here
somewheres an' can't do too much
runnin around. They was to fin
ish the picture tonight so she
could go to the hospital tomor
row." A NOISE at the door brought
Regan and Lafferty spin
ning about. The door swung open.
A dark-haired young woman In a
pale blue dress halted abruptly on
the threshold. She was slim,
strikingly beautiful, and vaguely
familiar.
"What are you doing here?
What what has happened?" She
was plainly startled at the sight
ot the coatless newspaperman
and the uniformed cop.
Regan and Lafferty were
speechless. They tood thcro like
idiots, staring at her. But even in
his befuddlement Lafferty noticed
the tiny brushes the girl held in
her left hand.
A frown of Impatience tinged
with apprehension, gathered on
the young woman's brow. "What
is it? Where Is Dorothy?
"Dorothy?" echoed Lafferty.
"Yes. I was delayed down at
the studio, but Dorothy has a
key. She was to come at ten to
get some rest before starting to
pose. But why am I telling you
all this? Miss Winert is my
model."
Then the girl's worried eyes
wandered to the sprawled figure
on the divan. "Bill!" she cried.
"Bill! Oh, don't toll me he's
hurt!" She ran past Regan and
Lafferty and dropped to her
knees at the divan.
Lafferty's legs threatened to
collapse under him, but he man
aged to reach the telephone over
In the corner. As he dialed his
number he heard Regan say:
"There's nothin' wrong with 'im,
Miss now."
"For God's sake!" barked Laf
ferty weakly when Ogden came
on the phone. "Stop the pr oases t
The dead woman is Dorothy Wi
nert, a model. Not Dora Wayne
. . . What? ... Of course I'm
sober . . . Yeah . . . Scared of an
, impending operation. And cut out
that letter business entirely
even the fragments . . , Yep, I'm
at the apartment now . , . What
is she doing?"
Lafferty turned around toward
the divan. Dora Wayne had her
' arms around McDade. She was
kipsintj him, shaking him gently,
and then kissing him again.
"What la she doing?" echoed
Lafferty. "She'a resurrecting a
dead man!"
Copyright, t9W.
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.PAGE &EVENB