THE BEE: OMAHA, SUNDAY. FEBRUARY 13, 1921.
ii 1 ' 1 .
' n.. nun.in iinrtQ i .1 ncnn
Indoor Pests The Hair-Trigger Parlor Statesman
Heart Secrets of a
Fortune Teller
Copyright, Utt Publlshlnn Cunivany
1 1 ii ' -
"Madam." lays the worried gen
tleman caller, that happened to be
honorin' me with his confidence, "I
. - 1
nave come xo aee you in rig w
uiy wife."
"About to elope with the chauf
feur, or run for congress, or some-,
thine?" I enquires, guspectin the
worst. ' u .
' "Oh, nol" he object?. "Nothing
like that. My wife is the best, most
sensible woman in the world, with
the exception of one weakness.
' Well," I remarks, "congratulate
yourself there's just one weakness.
The thorns with the . roses, you
know!" ..,.,,.c
y "But I can t overlook this fault of
mv wife's any longer," he argues. I
must find some way to cure her,
and I believe you arc the person to
help mc. The fault I am ( referring
to is the way she dresses 1"
"ha!" I ejaculates. "Proceed
with the story." I settle down to
enjoy myself, knowin I'm in line for
a .divert. n' ear tun. .
- "Well," he hesitates, blushm very
pathetically, but determined to see
the thing through as planned, Id
like to speak of the underwear
first." " ... ,
"By all means 1" I urges, quite
sympathetic. "That's the logical
t Ann' ennnfitf she s exactly
JK411. uv . I I .
addicted to red flannel, is she?
"Red flannel!!" he snorts. Not
hardly! She wears pink silk sum
mer and winter. . If she fails to die
of pneumonia or tuberculosis, snes
doomed for a chronic case of rheu
matism. I've ' warned her repeat
edly." . .
"I'll wager you have," I interposed
sweetly. . .
"She pays no serious attention to
pie " he goes on. "In fact, she treats
,ny advice as a joke. Furthermore,
I am not able to persuade her that
buying such garments is needless
extravagance."
, "Sort of on the order of $4 ties for
mm, eh?" I enquired. .
ii j. ...i... l.;i mftv fniir-in-nann
4IC j ,
m..Vi-.f tiprvmtolv. but oretends
i not to notice the interruption. "This
' :..if' tMlf tinorprie." hp aroes on. 13
'very expensive and frail in texture.
'It's not worth the price! Now I.
would suggest something durable
iand heavy for women's undergar-
b merits - f
, aomctning on ine orucr oi uuai
sail canvas?" I suggests, very inno-
f III.-A
II ' He gives me a suspicious look, and
I raves "right' on.
"And to clap tne climax m tne
iVay Of nonsense," he says, "she
wears furs around her neck, and silk
tTocVkitigs on her feet. That's noth
ingshort of feeble-minded, accord
ing to' jny ideas!" ,
The Married Life of
A Painful Situation Follows Helen's
". Invasion of an Exclusive Paris-
tan Home..:
In the cab, as she Whirled through
the. Champs Elysees, Helen read
; again the note she had crushed into
tier glove.
"Can't get back to dress. Will
have to meet you there 132 Rue
i Marceau. They dine at 7 ' so
j be on time. If I'm late, explain
that I've been delayed."
It was an awkward situation. They
were .dining at the Durets', neither
of whom she had met and now she
must arrive alone. Warren might
not be there 1 She would have to
make apologies for his delay. .
" Something serious had kept him,
for his main business in Paris waS
with Monsieur Duret. He had told
her to "doll up" for this dinner and
now he could not even dress. His
gray business suit would be conspic
uously out of place.
.i Their first dinner in Paris at a pri
vate house, Helen was keenly curi
ous as to what it would be like.
Though dreading the awkwardness
of arriving alone, she was aglow with
the expectancy of a new experience.
7 The cab drew up before preten
tious 'white stone mansion. Paying
the driver, with shrinking reluctance
she approached the ornate iron door
way as in most French houses, on a
level with the street.
Several moments before her ring
was answered. Then the heavy door
swung back and she was confronted
by a butter.
T, "I am Mrs. Curtis," in response to
his questioning stare.
He said something in French, as
grudgingly he opened the door, but
still with the scrutinizing gaze that
Helen found most offensive.
"Take" this to Madame Duret,"
giving him a card which fortunately
she had with her.
'; The small reccptidn room where
she waited was like an over
Crowded jewel box bristling with
gilt furniture, paintings and bric-a-brac.
. Nervously she rehearsed her apoli
ogles for' Warren's delay, as evi
dently he had not arrived.
A step outside and through the
satin draperies entered a middle
aired woman. She was youthfsilv
gowned and her gray hair elabo
rately coiffured
Helen's card in her hand, she re
garded her through a lorgnette with
a cold inquiring glance.
"Madam'; Duret?" rising from the
eilt settee.
She appeared not to see Helen's
outstretched hand, and the hauteur
of her French held no note of cor-
dialitv
' What did it mean? Helen drew
back in flushed resentment. 'Why
'was she received in this manner?
"Mr. Duret! Monsieur Duretl I
should lik to see him," for Warren
had said he could speak English.
Tapping the card with her lorg
nette, she shrugged her bare shoul
ders. 1 4 "
i, "I am Mrs. Curtis!", shrilly indig
nant "Wc were invited here to din
ner. I am alone because Mr. Curtis
-was delayed and" She paused,
realising the hopelessness of her
raised voice , carrying , comprehen
sion. , "
Stepping back, the woman touched
a ' bell on the paneled wall. In
stantly the butler reappeared.
Helen's face grew crimson as they
conversed together with searching
glances in her direction. Was this
the French method of receiving din
ner guests? ' Her confusion reflected
in a pier mi.rror further, inflamed her
indignatiwt.
She wa not, in the wong house,
lor hile waiting she had notice on
"Does she suffer from colds?" I
asks brightly.
"Well no," he hesitates. "Not
yet, but she will, sooner or later
that's sure. Then there'll be the doc
tors' bills to add to the luxury list."
"Is the lady a general spend
thrift?" I asks. "Fond of jewels,
matinees and bon-bons, so to speak?"
"No," he answers, givin' the mat
ter his serious attention. "I don't
suppose you could call her a spend
thrift. She does her own work and
never runs bills. . She seems to keep
within her allowance, alright... In
fact, she's generally spoken of as a
good manager, I believe."
I allow myself a few minutes of
serious thought. Finally I venture
to change the subject rather unex
pectedly. "You seem to have a bothersome
cough," I remark' with sympathy.
"Rather unusual, too, for a person
who dresses as sensible as you, I'd
say! It may be due to too much
smokin'. I notice a few cigars in
your vest pocket. They say those
heavy, expensive brands are hard on
the lungs."
"Say, madam," he sputters, gettin'
wise at last, "are you going to ad
vise me on this rase, or are you
not?"
"I am not, brother," f astonishes
him by sayin' very emphatic. "If
you want helpful ajdvice on conduct
in' a woman's dress reform . cam
paign, don't -go to a woman for
advice go to a man! They've got
all the ideas." ' . .'
"Well," he answers,' quite stiff, "I
thought you were considered such a
sensible woman"
"There's no such animal as a sen
sible woman," I says, "when it's a
question of adornin' the person.
Gaze on me," I invites him. "I'm
an expert at applyin' practical cures
to hopeless cases. I pay a large and
handsome income ' tax just because
I've got ideas worth., selling. Do
you follow me?" '
He nods his.hcad, lookin' rather
blank. X -
"Very good !" I says. "But while
you're gazin', lend an eye to vmy
feet. I'm wearin' wool stockings in
a steam-heated house, because they
look well with a' blue serge dress!
And tonight when I'm headed for
4-C in the dress circle, my trilbys
will be encased in a pair of silk mesh
nines that couldn't stop the winter
breezes on a bet."
"Yes,, brother." I says in farewell,
"it's a grand old cause you're spen
sorin', but I can't be of any service,
under the circumstances. So long.
Hope I haven't discouraged you!"
Nert WeekThe Way They Pro
pose.: Copyright 1121 Thompson Feature Service
the writing table some stationery en
graved 162 Rue Marceau.
Evidently acting under instruc
tions, the butler now stepped to the
door to usher her out,
"You MUST know we were in
vited!" desperately, to the woman,
"Can't you understand? Is there no
one here who speaks English?" -
At that moment a distinguished
elderly man entered the room.
Oh. this is Monsieur JJuretr
with tremulous relief. "I'm so glad!
I couldn't make . Madame Duret
understand. Mr. Curtis is delayed
and I" .
She stopped abruptly. He was
staring at her with the same cold
inquiry as his wife, who was 'now
whispering in rapid hostile French.
I hen he could not speak bnglish
either! On the verge of hysteria,
Helen rushed from the room her
one thought now to escape.
Haughtily the butler held open the
outer door. Blindly stumbling out,
she ran against a man who was just
entering, a latchkey in his hand.
"I beg your pardon!" she mur
mured mechanically, hurrying on.
"Certainly," he raised his hat as
she passed.
"Oh, you speak English! You're
Monsieur Duret!"
"That is not my name, tut I
speak English. Can I be of any
service?"
He was young, good-looking, and
was gazing at her with undisguised
interest and admiration.
' "I'm Mrs. W'arren Curtis. Wc
were invited to dine here this eve
ning but I couldn't make them
understand. And I " she was al
most sobbing. "I've never been so
insulted in my life!' .
"You were to dine here? There
must be some mistake. If you will
come in, I will speak to my
mother."
Helen shrank from re-entering the
house, but on the verge of tears
she could not voice her protest.
He led her back into the reception
room, where she was again con
fronted by the older man and wo
man, now talking excitedly.
"Mother says she is not expecting
guests. You must (pardon her if she
seemed discourteous, but her pearls
were stolen last week and she is sus
picious of strangers."
"Then the Drets do not live
here?" tensely.
"No, qur name-is Boivin. You must
have the wrong address. This is 132
Rue Marceau.
"That's what I have," producing
the crumpled note. "It's my hus
band's mistake! And they're waiting
now oh, how can I find them?"
"Possibly I can help. Do you know
the initials of Monsieur Duret?" tak
ing a telephone book from a drawer
in the writing table.
"I 'only know that he's an attor
ney," hopelessly.
"Here it is! j. L. Duret 132 Ave
nue Marceau. This is Rue Marceau
not the Avenue. My car ia out
side. May I not take you there?"
Madame Boivin, who had finally
grasped the situation, and realizing
her' remaining jewels were not in
danger, became- most cordial and
apologetic.
The now deferential butler opened
the door, and they passed out to a
low gray roadster which stood at
the curb. t
"I don't knaw how to thank you,"
glowed Helen as they drove off. "I'd
never have found them!"
"Ye, Paris is confusing. We often
have in avenue, place and street of
the same name. It's not simple like
your checkerboard New York."
"Then you've been there?" eager
ly, drawing her evening wrap closer
, "Yes, several times on business. A
wonderful place. Those skjerapers
Helen and
lit up night there is nothing like
it in Europe. Ami I going too fast?
I fear your hair will be blown.'"
"Not at all," hoping the chill wind
would cool her flushed face.
"What absurdly small feet you
American women have," was his next
abrupt and rather personal comment.
' "Oh!" Helen tried to draw he-silver-cloth
slippers under her short
skirt. - . .. - .
"This is the house." He shot up
before another imposing residence.
"I'm sorryf it is so near. I would
have enjoyed driving you further."
"Oh, thank you," flushing tleeper.
"But I'm unpanfotiably lat-fipw."
"I will wait until, you are safely
in," as he helped her from the car.
'Again thanking him, she ran up to
the door which opened before she
could touch the bell.
For the second time that evening
she was confronted by a French but
ler. But iiowshe hardly saw him.
for from the rear of the reception
hall cameVarren's voice, loudly em
phatic. . -'
"What's that? Hello, there, don't
cut me off ! I want ; to know what
time Mrs. Curtis left the hotel. Cur
tis. C-U-R-T-I-S!" V.jLi.; ' '.. : :
. The y next v; momeni.: Helen stood
breathlessly besjde him, her hand on
his arm.v ' ' '
Flinging up the telephone receiver,
he 'turned upon her with a savage:.
"Where in blazes have you been?"
"Warren, I. couldn't help it! It
wasn't my;fault! I" '
"Wasn't, eh? You've - kept them
waiting an hour; I told you " . '
. "'H-s-hsh', dear, not so loud! Some
one's coming."
"Madame Curtis!" A tall man in
evening dress appeared from the
drawing room. "I am glad you have
arrived safely. We. were all rather
worried." , ; -; ; ( ;
"I'm so verv sorry to be late "
faltered Helen. "I went to the wrong
house. Mr,. Curtis gave me the
wrong address."- - , .
"I gave you 13Z Avenue Marceau!"
"No, dear, . you wrote Rue Mar
ceau not Avenue, I have it right
here." - ' -
Fumbling for the note, she saw
their host glance . sharply at -Warren,
and ithere flashed thrdusft ber
mind a remark he had made last
night: "Duret's a stickler for ac
curacy. Just fired his secretary for
a mistake ' m her notes." ;
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SAFETY FIRST! Accept only an "unbroken package" of
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Handy tin boxes of 12 tablets cost hut a frv rents Ltuger packages.
Aattlrln la lb trad mark ot BaycrSlauufactura of Monoacttlcacltleaitr et Eallcyllcacla.,
Warren
A stickler, for accuracy! Then
how unfortunate for him to think
Warren capable of such careless
ness: Theirtrip to Paris was to
secure the American representation
of the company which Monsieur
Duret contijolled.
His opinion of her did not mat
ter, but it was vitally . important
that he should not think Warren
inaccuratae. -
"Dear,4 you're right," she lied glib
ly glaincing at the note. "It is
Avenue it was my mistake. Oh, I
don't know how I could have been
so stupid! And I've kept you a"
waiting for almost art hour."
"Do not give that a thoughf.
madame. We were concerned only
for your safety."
As she passed in to meet Madame
Duret, Helen tore the note into
shreds. Herjswift feminine impulse
to shield Warren had surmounted
the natural instinct to defend her
self by proving him in the wrong.
, And now. as th,ey entered the
grey-paneled drawing-room, she was
swept to exalted emotional heights
by the" glowing consciousness of
her self-sacrifice! '
Copyright, 1921, by "Mabel Herbert Harper.
Chicago Policemen Find:
''Baron" Lang's Clothing
.Chicago, Feb. 12. According to
Lang, formerly of Hagendorff, Ba
varia,: . needed only a shirt, colar,
stockings, shoes and underwear and
a hat to be fully dressed when he
appeared before Judge tuart re
cently.' . ,
"He was naked when we found
him,'' a policeman told ; the court,
"but, as you see, we dug up a pair of
trjousers for him, so he could make
some sort of an appearance here."
The baron was not quite certain,
where he had left his clothing, but
had a hazy, recollection of being
"jomewhere in Wabash avenue"
when he lost his, garments.
When, the ccfurt continued the
case against the baron for further in
vestigation .the police, hinting 1 that
the fotmer nobleman was "some
handy guy" with a broom, took him
in tow, promising to. see that 'he was
sheltered and led.
Baron Lang is indefinite as to his
title of baron, but insists that he
came by it honestly in his former
home in Bavaria.
Life of Policeman
Too Wild; He Quits
First He Was Nearly, Kid
naped, Then Fined for
Smiling at Girl. j .
Atlanta, Ga., Feb. 12. When Sam
Brown, negro, attempted to kidnaji
Policeman W. A. Malone he was
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tQOSC LEAP PCVICCS
shot and killed by City Detective J.
C. Moslcywho happened along just
in 'the nick of Mime and purely by
accident. ; .
Since then things have been hap1
pening thick and fast for Policeman
Malone, who is an ex-news butcher
and the lightweight officer of the
force. He weighs only 130 pouuds
and is barely five feet in height.
Recently he was stripped ,of his
badge because a young lady accused
-him of sniilling at her. He Was fined
$6 in' Magistrate Johnson's police
Court and paid the, -fine uncomplain
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NOTE: Another ipromlnent phrs!cia to whom
the boie irtiole , submitted, stiri: ' Kin
Opto Is verv rcfiiarkahle rpmeily. its constit
uent InsredlsiiU are well known to eminent eje
racialists anil widely prescr bed hy thorn. The
manufacturers fuarantes It to utre.mthen e e'ght '
50 iwr rent in one week's time In many Insumn.
or refunil the money. It can he rWalre'l frm ,
any nod drugulat and la nit ft the err few
nrehaiatlona I feel aheuld lie kei't on hand for
rB..Ur ti in almit ererv family." It la sold
fn this city hy all snod dnutglste. Including tl
Sherman & McConsell and the Melcher Stores.
But it was too much for Malone.
That afternoon lie turned in his res
ignation to Chief Beavers.
"I guess I ain't built for a police
man," said he. -Since,
the attempted kidnaping
T
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"The life of a copper ain't a happy
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