Nebraska Newspapers

    CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT
Nurses Training School
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FARMS FOR SALE
GOOD IMPROVED VALLEY FARMS AT
$45 to $75 per acre. Write for list. M. A.
Larsen Agency, Central City, Nebraska.
_CREMATION
FFOREST LAWN CEMETERY
• OMAHA •
CREMATION
of the most modern type
Write to ut for booklet
:cz
Place a rubber mat on the
saucer under your potted plant and j
it will absorb the right amount of
moisture from the mat.
• • •
The best way to clean lamp
chimneys is to rub them with
newspaper on which has been
poured a little kerosene. This will
make them much clearer than
when soap is used, and they also
are less likely to crack. To clean
lamp burners, wash them in ashes
and water and they will come out
clean and bright.
• * •
A teaspoonful of pulverized alum
added to stove blacking will give
the stove a brilliant luster that
will last for a long time.
• * *
Egg stains on table linen should
be soaked with cold water, as
warm water sets them. j
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Bright Idea
Clerk—If you were in my shoes,
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How To Relieve
Bronchitis
Creomulslon relieves promptly be
cause It goes right to the seat of the
trouble to help loosen and expel
germ laden phlegm, and aid nature
to soothe and heal raw. tender, In
flamed bronchial mucous mem
branes. Tell your druggist to sell you
a bottle of Creomulslon with the un
derstanding you must like the way It
quickly allays the cough or you are
to have your money back.
CREOMULSION
for Coughs. Chest Colds. 6 ronchitis
Needless Ease
Troubles spring from idleness,
and grievous toils from needless
ease.—Benjamin Franklin.
M-IWUP
Irirll
“Cap-Bruth Apptk.tw ,
"*l*ck lur -
m GO MUCH FARTHER
PASH IH WATHIbTNC
WNU—U 6~43
May Warn of Disordered
Kidney Action
Modern life with its hurry and worry.
Irregular habits, improper eating and
drinking—its risk of exposure and infec
tion—throws heavy strain on the work
of the kidneya. They are apt to become
over-taxed and fail to filter excess add
and other impurities from the life-giving
blood.
You may suffer nagging backache,
headache, dizziness, getting up nighta,
leg pains, swelling—feel constantly
1- tired, nervous, all worn out. Other signa
i! of kidney or bladder disorder are some
times burning, scanty or too frequent
urination.
Try Doan’s Pills. Doan's help the
kidneys to pass off harmful excess body
waste. They have had more than half a
century of public approval. Are recom
S mended by grateful users everywhere.
Ask your neighbor'
mvr -
PIRATES HEAD
Bq ISABEL WAITT/ ^ «3~;<
/WN-U- RtLEASt -
THE STORY SO FAR: Judy Jason,
who it telling the story, receive* an
anonymous letter enclosing SHOO and ask
ing her to bid (or an abandoned church to
be auctioned the next day. After the
auction the body of a man identified at
Roddy !.ane it found in a chest in the
basement of the church, but disappears
a few hours later. Victor Quade finds a
golf club near the chest. A fish shed
burns, apparently killing an old man
named Drown who Is supposed to have
lived there, although no one has ever
seen him. Uncle Wylie’s pipe is found
near the shed. Hugh Norcross has jusf
told (hem he used Potter's turpentine to
clean Bessie's coat.
Now continue with Judy’s story.
CHAPTER VIII
"You cleaned it for her? With
turpentine?”
“Uh-huh. Gave me a little. Don’t
you remember, Potter? You were
working on that painting of the Qua
ker church and I asked if turpen
tine would do the trick and you said
It would and gave me some on my
handkerchief.”
"That right. Mr. Potter?”
"Sorry, Norcross," the artist said.
"I recall no such incident.”
Bessie’s face flamed. "I don’t see
what difference it makes if my coat
has a spot on it or not except to
me. If my brother tried to clean it
off I’m sure that was very kind of
him. Aren’t all artists proverbially
Rbsent-minded? That’s where your
old turpentine went. It wasn't sto
len at all. You used It up, Mr. Pot
ter.”
Albion didn’t answer her but he
looked shocked as he edged away
to the other side of the group back
of Mr. Quincy’s chair.
“There's a question I'd like to
ask,” Victor said. “How many of
you have golf clubs here?”
Hugh and Bessie admitted they’d
brought theirs, and Aunt Nella re
minded us that the minister had
some by a significant nod. He had
kept silent until the force of un
Bpoken glances made him say:
"That shot I made on the lawn
last night. Wasn’t my club. Be
longed to Mr. Norcross, I think.
Didn't bring my own downstairs yet.
Why, Quade?"
It would be a good time to search
his golf bag, I thought: but Victor
only shrugged again and said non
chalantly, “Oh, nothing. Just won
dered whose mashie might be miss
ing. Saw one back of Judy’s hope
chest in the church basement. It
had blood on it.”
Blood! You could hear the gasp
that ran around our piazza and
made everybody lean forward with
a dazed expression.
“See here, Mr. Quade,” Potter
said in a voice that trembled, "you
had no right to keep this to your
self.”
"Yes, why didn’t you show us?"
They were all talking at once.
Hugh Norcross started down the
steps. "The minister—Mr. De Witt
there—just said he was using my
club on the lawn. Well, if he was,
I can soon prove it. All my clubs
are initialed. I'll get my mashie.”
“But. Hugh, where are you go
ing?” Bessie cried.
“The tent. Left my bag in the
tent and forgot to take it in after
ward. Don't you remember?"
If she did, Bessie looked pretty
anxious.
“Did you see any initials along
side the—the blood?" Mr. Quincy
banged the railing and made us all
jump.
Victor shook his head. We were
all watching Hugh Norcross emerge
from his tent without any bag
“Queer. They're not in the tent.
Must be upstairs after all.”
Uncle Wylie, who'd been fiddling
with his beloved pipe, now sprang
up suddenly. “What you looking for.
Mr. Norcross. I carried in those
clubs. You’ll find ’em in your room
behind the door."
"Are yours initialed, too. Miss
Norcross?” Victor asked.
Bessie inclined her head. “Hugh
and I always mark everything.”
"Then if the one you saw down
at the church isn't initialed. I sup
pose it’s mine—that what you mean,
Quade?” The minister fairly shout
ed it.
"Not necessarily. But If your
mashie is missing—”
“Exactly. Well, it Isn't. 1 ap
point you a committee of one to go
up to my room—the door is un
locked—and bring down my mash
ie.”
“Get it yourself, if you'd feel bet
ter about it," Victor said.
The minister got up with great
dignity and stalked up the stairs
Hugh raced upstairs after the
clergyman, and presently the two
men came down together.
“There’s my mashie,” boomed the
minister accusingly.
Hugh carried one club. When Bes
sie saw it she paled. Initialed neat
ly at one end were the letters E. N
"Some one has used my club ir
more places than on the lawn, anc
if there’s blood on it I hope to Goc
there's fingerprints, too.”
Bessie clenched her hands. He:
voice cut like ice. "My brother,’
! she said with unmistakable empha
: sis, “has a reputation which will pu
him above any circumstantial suspi
1 cion. And if anyone has tried ti
smirch him by committing a crimi
with his club, I'll—I’ll—”
“Oh, dry up, Bess!” Hugl
snapped. “No one's accusing me o
i anything. Let them try it!"
Mr. Quincy thumped his cane. Hi;
Kendall giggled nervously, whil
Bessie glared at her and said:
“Tch! Tch!" Uncle Wylie drained
his pipe noisily, till Aunt Nella
nudged him. It was Albion Potter
who brought us all back to normal.
“Look at that cloud effect." he
said. "There, that's just what I was
trying to put into my picture.
Cumulus. My, I wish I'd bought
some extra turpentine.”
Bessie turned on him, anger in
her biting tone. If you're trying
to remind us that your turpentine
was used on my coat—why, I think
you’re plain dirty mean.”
Goodness, were they going to fight
over such a small matter—at a time
like this?
Mr. Quincy beat a tattoo. “We
can’t all shout!” he shouted. “Let
Mr. Quade continue."
Victor gestured from the foot of
the steps. “My friends,” he began
in a voice so imitative of President
Roosevelt's that even at that tense
moment everybody recognized it and
smiled, "let's have a quiet little fire
side talk. We all of us have things
to explain. Take myself. You have
only my word I’m wno I claim I
am. I had, perhaps, the best oppor
tunity of anyone to commit this
crime. Certainly I arrived at the
crucial time. I can't find my pub
lisher’s letter or any other creden
tials to establish the fact I'm a well
known mystery writer—Vidor Quinn.
And that title—‘Murder on the Bluff'
—could anything be more pat? Now,
I ask you The club may be mine.
The rest of the committee didn’t see
it behind the sea chest. Perhaps I
put it there. I don’t happen to have
Hugh and Bessie admitted they
had brought theirs.
had the pleasure of knowing this
Roddy Lane, but that can come up
later.
“We all of us come under the head
of suspects. Take Mr. Quincy. That
cane of his could kill a man, and
does he know how to use it? And he
can manage to get around quite a
bit without that wheel chair. Can't
you, Mr. Quincy?”
“Quite a bit." Why, Thaddeus
Quincy was actually grinning like a
gargoyle. “I try to do more and
more each day. Soon I shall swim,
and then—watch out! Go on. Quade.
Great stuff.”
Victor’s mouth twitched, but he
wasn't smiling. “AH right, Mr. Pot
ter. Paint doesn't cover an alibi.
He went to town. yes. And he lost
a bottle of turpentine. Maybe he
didn't lose it—see? 1 hate to think
what the police will do to all of you.
“Take Hugh Norcross. He ad
mits he ran across the lawn—look
ing for Bessie, he says. He cleaned
a spot off his sister’s coat, he says.
His mashie is missing.
“And you, sir." Victor indicated
the clergyman. “You could explain
plenty, I imagine, and will do so
when the time comes—about that
Lane feUow's mistaking you for an
ex-convict named Smith.”
We all held our breath. “You’ve
no right to give him the third de
gree, Mr. Quade!” shouted Aunt
Nella. “Wylie and 1 know all about
him goin' to prison. It was a cruel
shame. Why don't you speak, Rev
erend?”
So it was true, then. And Aunt
Nella had known it all the time and
never told me!
Such a saccharine smile as Jonas
De Witt threw at her. “In due
time, my good woman. In due
time." Then to the others he said:
"It is true. I—I have a prison rec
ord. It seared me, but I’m not
I ashamed of it. 1 suppose it will be
| all raked up again. I can only
: hope you succeed in solving this
mystery before the press gets the
> story. Any more publicity—well,
• we can all bear what we have to.
I’ll help you any way I can, Mr.
i Quade"
f Was he a saint or a sanctimonious
old hypocrite, pulling the wool over
r my aunt’s eyes?
5 "For the moment my past history
is my own. I can assure you it has
nothing to do with this story. Noth
ing whatever.”
"Course it hasn’t," scoffed Aunt
Nella. "Even if the poor man did
lose every penny when the Lane
Bank blew up, and Roddy swiped—”
"You keep still,” advised my un
cle, for once in his life. "Mind
your own business.”
“True, ain’t it? Tell ’em it’s true,
Reverend.”
"Yes, it’s true. When that crook
ed son of the Old Man’s cleaned out
the bank, I lost everything I’d saved
from years of hard work. But oth
ers lost, too.”
"Why, wasn’t it insured?” Victor
asked.
"Nobody knows exactly, but what
insurance there was didn’t cover
Roddy's supposed embezzlement.
People couldn’t prove young Lane
did steal the funds; he was never
brought to trial because there wasn't
anything to go by. But the money
was gone. The bank failed. The
Old Man shot himself.”
"Roddy hid it in the Castle, if
you ask me,” added Aunt Nella.
"Now, we’re getting somewhere!”
Victor said. "How many of you
people lost money in that fiasco?”
Nobody spoke. Mr. Quincy was
drawing imaginary circles on the
porch with his nervous cane. “You
can’t expect us to answer a ques
tion like that, Mr. Quade. Practi
cally admit a motive for killing
Roddy Lane? You’re crazy!”
"Not so crazy as you think. Why
should an innocent person hesitate?
A matter of record, isn’t it?”
Uncle Wylie removed his pipe. “If
'twas, this might not have happened.
Only record is personal bankbooks.
Nella and me—-we’ve got our’n. But
the ledgers of the Lane Bank van
ished along with the funds. Nella’s
nuts to say they were hidden in
the Lane Castle. Authorities scoured
the place high and low, at the time.
Couldn’t find a thing. That was aft
er the old man shot himself, which
some thought, as didn’t know him,
was tantamount to a confession.
Might a-been at that—for his son.
But Roddy got off scot free. No
proof against him. Want to see our
accounts? Joint they was.”
"Later, Mr. Gerry. You weren't
afraid to speak up.”
"Why should he be!” Auntie
snapped. "The savin’s didn't make
him half so mad as the fight over
the boundary line.”
There she went—making things
worse for pooi^ old Uncle. The po
lice would have a sweet time twist
ing him around in their net. Not
only the lost savings and the old
boundary feud, but the damning evi
dence of his having been intoxicat
ed, the finding of his pipe at the
scene of the ruined flsh shack he’d
threatened over and over, quite pub
licly, to burn down some day. Was
Victor Quade also adding up these
things to make harmless Uncle Wy
lie Gerry into a killer?
But Victor struck everybody si
lent when he said: “Mr. Gerry,
you’re the only one here who knew
this man Brown. Is that right?”
That was correct. Aunt Nella only
having seen him a few times at a
distance.
“Of course,” Victor went on, “he
may be quite all right. We've noth
ing to prove he didn't go to Rock
ville last evening and stay there, or
try to return to the Head and find
the bridge out. But an old man—to
go off like that and leave a light
burning. You’re sure about the
light, you two?” He looked from Mr.
Quincy to me, and we both corrobo
rated.
“That there ear trumpet—he nev
er went nowhere without it,” Uncle
Wylie said. "Not even fishin’. Had
it tied over his shoulder some way.”
“Suppose you describe the man
Was he tall?”
“Not so very. Warn’t short, nei
ther. Kinder medium, and stooped
like. Come to think of it, I usually
saw him settin'—either on the bench
in front of the shack or over on the
rocks back of the church.”
“Well, go on. Was he light or
dark? Old or young?”
“Don’t rush me. You know he was
old—as old as the hills. So old I
thought he hadn’t oughter be livin'
all alone by himself and asked him
why he did. But he answered as
always, sticking that ear-thing into
my face and turning his sideways.
‘Hey? I’m a leetle hard o’ hearin’.
Speak louder.' You’d think he'd
stepped out of some Yankee play.
The Old Homestead’ or ’Way Down
East.’ Character, he was. Old-tinv
er. Only other thing I ever heard
him say was 'Fishin'.' Liked to flsh
off the rocks when he first come.”
"And when was that?”
“Not so long ago. Just afore you
tourists, warn't it, Nella?”
“How sh'd I know? Nobody saw
him come. Just saw a light there
one night, and you went over and
there he sat on the bench, twiddling
his thumbs and blinkin’ at the sea,”
Aunt Nella replied.
“Blinking, did you say?”
“That’s what Wylie said—behind
his thick glasses. Wylie lit his pipe
—” she broke off abruptly, as if the
memory of the fishhouse and her
husband’s pipe were too painful to go
on with. “Said he was poverty
struck lookin’. Old and deaf and
hunched up and quavery sort of. I
said if he made a nuisance of him
self before my guests I'd have him
fired out of there, but he never did.
Squatter, you said, Wylie.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
By VIRGINIA VALE
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
A FEW years ago a radio
producer, an actress and
an actor formed a trio to pro
duce an act in a series of
transcriptions called “Story
of Martha Blair.” Results:
the producer married the ac
tress, who became famous on
the stage and screen. The
actor made a name for himself in
the movies, as well as on the air.
The director stepped right ahead
also. He’s Carlton Alsop, producer
of radio’s “Abie’s Irish Rose,” now
transcribing 15 quarter-hour pro
grams for the Red Cross. She’s
Martha Scott, who did one of them
with the young actor. He’s Joseph
Cotten, star of the new Hitchcock
thriller, “Shadow of a Doubt.”
-*
Samuel Goldwyn has signed Wal
ter Huston again to play a leading
role in "The North Star”; it's his
first Goldwyn picture since “Dods
WALTER HUSTON
worth.” Huston’s been working at
Warner Bros, in ‘‘Mission to Mos
cow,” appearing as Ambassador
Davies.
-&
For six years Cheryl Walker
was stand-in for stars; then she was
given the romantic lead in Sol Less
er’s “Stage Door Canteen,” and did
so well with it that she stepped
straight into stardom; CBS paid
tribute to her on “Women’s Page of
the Air” as a result.
-*
If you have income-tax trouble
you’ll enjoy “The Spirit of ’43,” in
which Donald Duck tackles his In
come Tax stint. It’s the new Walt
Disney short, made at the request
of Secretary of the Treasury Mor
genthau. Five hundred prints will
be distributed and shown under the
auspices of the War Activities Com
mittee of the motion picture indus
try.
-*
When Jean Arthur does kissing
scenes the set is closed; she’s a bit
shy and doesn’t like having an audi
ence at such times. But she and Joel
McCrea exchanged fervent kisses
before an audience of 21 men the
other day, for “The More the Mer
rier”; they were soldiers, being
shown through the studio.
Jean Brooks has come up the hard
way, via hard-riding westerns and
cliff-hanging serials. She scored in
a featured role with Abbott and Cos
tello. in “Buck Privates.” and now
she’s won the feminine lead opposite
Dennis O’Keefe in “The Leopard
Man.”
• jf?
Eddie Cantor receives $10,000 per
broadcast; his daughter Marilyn
gets $50 a week, but she’s the radio
industry's first girl staff announcer,
and proud as punch of the job. She's
on WNEW, a local station in New
York; she makes commercial an
nouncements, introduces band num
bers, and puts records on the studio
timetable—and has ruined her fa
ther’s gag about the cost of support
ing five girls.
Jeanette MacDonald has no sym
pathy for those stars who regard
service-camp entertainment tours as
a hardship; she thinks they’re fun.
But at 14 she was dancing in a
Broadway revue, taking singing and
ballet lessons between times, and
modeling fur coats to pay for the
extra lessons. She says that an
army camp tour is just a vacation
by comparison.
-*
Since fire destroyed Bing Crosby’s
home thousands of people have of
fered to replace his losses. One of
fered a complete collection of Bing’s
records; an army sergeant said ev
ery time Bing smoked a pipe in
a picture he’d bought one just like it,
and offered the singer his choice. A
I vaudevillian said he’d break up his
trained dog act to replace the spaniel
the children lost in the fire.
_$
ODDS AND ENDS—Cary Cooper
will sing “Cruise the Lord und Cass the
Ammunition'' in “l he Story of Dr.
Wassell,” his next picture . . . Cary
Grant has signed a new contract with
RKO calling for file pictures over a
long-term period . . ■ Some day one of
those press agents u ho announce that a
box-office star will join the If AACs,
WAVES or SCARS will gel the shock of
his life, when she actually goes through
with it .. . Jinx Falkenburg carried a
big red broadcloth purse on which is
pinned insignia of every branch of the
service, given her by service men; while
making “Broadway Daddies’’ she added
itx more pins to the collection.
I /hooked in
/ SOLID COLOR 4
/WITH OUTLINE 5
t ^ IN A J,
S3!TL>
DARK AND U6HT
COLOR USED FOR
SHADED EFFECT
- - i
HOLD
STRIP
UNDER
WORK
WITH
LEFT l
HAND ;
&
V'OUR rag bag contains the best
* possible material for making at
tractive pads for chairs and foot
stools. These may be hooked in
the same manner as rugs are
made. Cut or tear old materials
into strips and draw loops through
either burlap or canvas with a rug
hook as shown at the left. Either
cotton, wool, silk or rayon may be
used. The strips may be cut from
three quarters to one and one-half
inches wide, according to the
weight of the material and how
fine you wish the work to be. If
some color is desired that you do
not have on hand goods should be
dyed to carry out your room color
scheme.
You will find it easy to outline
a simple flower design with wax
crayon. Many people do success
ful hooking without a frame. Small
ILIOUSEHOLD
IIII1TS!
To take black stains out of a
hardwood floor, scrub floor vigor
ously with hot water and javelle
water, using a stiff brush. For
persistent stains repeat process.
* • *
Left-over meat, minced, with
cream or salad dressing makes a
popular sandwich filling.
• » *
Pipe cleaners are handy in the
kitchen to clean gas burners, lem
onade sippers, funnels, etc.
• • *
If a child’s birthday is forgotten
till the last minute, fix a novel
gift for him this way: Stick pen
nies, nickels or dimes into a shiny
red apple, tie a ribbon bow on the
blossom end, and the gift is
ready.
pieces of work may be stretched
over an old picture frame and
thumb-tacked. Flowers and leaves
may be hooked in outline as at the
upper right, or two or more tones
may be used for a shaded effect,
as at the lower right.
• • •
NOTE: BOOK 5. of the series of home
making booklets prepared for readers, con
tains directions for making your own flow
er designs and for hooking rugs BOOK 6
contains directions for a hooked, a braided
and a crocheted rug all made from old
clothing. Copies are 10 cents each. Send
requests for booklets direct to:
MRS. RUTH WYETH SPEARS
Bedford Hills New York
Drawer 14
Enclose 10 cents for each book de
sired.
Name.
Address ...
. 1 tmmmmmtowmnmi
If you’re concerned about what
sort of gift to send a friend or rela
tive in one of Uncle Sam’s
branches of the services, your
worries are over. If he smokes a
pipe or rolls-his-own, the answer
is a pound of tobacco. Numerous
surveys made among soldiers,
sailors, marines, and Coast
Guardsmen show that tobacco
ranks first on his gift list. Local
tobacco dealers are featuring
Prince Albert in the pound can
for service men. Prince Albert,
the world’s largest-selling smok
ing tobacco, is a big favorite
among many men in the service.
—Adv.
_ k
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