Evening star. [volume], May 13, 1936, Page B-7, Image 27

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
INSTALLMENT XXXIV.
DRIVING into town on a dark
wet Monday morning, she
lamented their return. They
came in at the western end
©f the city, through soaked parks;
they were crossing Presidio avenue to
ward Washington street when Tamara,
whose eyes had been roving about
With the insatiable interest in life,
■aid in an odd tone:
"George! Stop.”
“What is it?” George demanded,
drawing up to the curb, turning to
lace her.
“A newspaper there on the news
- paper stand. It had—it had your
name in great big letters! George,
What is it?”
, ‘ Why. we’ll very soon see!” George
»aid. ' What did it say?”
• It said ‘Davis' in great big letters,
bnd then under it something about
the district attorney-elect.” They
drove another block to the next stand,
Stopped, were standing together in
the wet street with their eyes drink
ing in headlines.
J “ ‘District Attorney-Elect’s Hide
Out Still Mystery. Slayer of Mayne
Mallory Lying Low,' ” George said
aloud, in a mild, puzzled voice.
I “ ‘Slayer of Mayne Mallory,’ ” Tam
repeated, looking at him blankly.
^George, is he dead?”
“Yep. that's it. Graft, that’s the
name for highway robbery now,” Billy
assured her. "But in those days rob
bers were robbers! Franchises, mines,
^land, they grabbed everything in sight.
"Now their grandsons give a hundred
dollars a year to the Community
Chest and get a thousand dollars’
Worth of newspaper advertising for it.”
“I hate to think the world is so
bad!" Tam said. George was audibly
■sleep among the bags and coats of
the back seat, and she could go on
In a cautious undertone: ‘"Hiey—
they can’t do anything to George, can
they? With every one so bad, and
/very one getting away with every
thing, and that man—Mayne Mal
lory—condemned to death anyway,
end no chance of a pardon, tiow can
they do anything to George?”
"Oh, they'll not do anything to
George!” Bill said reassuringly. “They
may scare him. I mean they may
feel that they have to scare him. He's
to be in high public office—protector
of the safety of the commonwealth,
that sort of thing. But it'd be a good
thing for the public health and mor
als, Mrs. Davis,” Billy resumed, with
Vn oblique glance and the hint of a ;
smile, if some one w*ould give every
fellow’ like Mallory a good paste in
the mug. He w’as a rotter if ever
there was one! I sized that fellow up
the first time I saw him. What gets
me,” the man continued in a musing
tone, as they went on—“what gets
tne is George. Old George! It doesn’t
sound like him to get mad and sock
sny one. What was eating him?
He d talked to Mallory before. He
knew w’hat sort of a man he was. All
of a sudden George pulls back. Of
Bourse, Mallory had a bad heart—had
angina pectoris, as a matter of fact.
4 You remember he was sick a month
■go?”
uiais wmat were banking
On!” Tam said fervently.
“ Well, of course. His time,” the
man added whimsically, “had evi
dently come. Under sentence of death
and with a bad heart, and then
George has to step in and hand him
a punch on the nose.”
"They couldn’t,” Tam began, hardly j
above a whisper, “they couldn’t touch
George? I mean they couldn’t sen
tence George?”
“No!” the man said so scornfully
that the monosyllable came out a
^ long-drawn ”Naw!”
* “They won't even have a trial, will
‘they, Billy?"
“Say. I like you to call me Billy," 1
the driver said, diverted. Tam’s color
came up. and she laughed.
“I always call you that when I’m
talking to George.”
“Well, keep up the good work,” said
Billy "No. I don’t think it’ll come to
a trial. There'll be — formalities.
»George doesn’t deny he socked him,
and nobody denies that he died the
next day without ever recovering con
sciousness. The coroner has made his
report, and now it’s just a question—
oh. of legal stuff. Don’t you worry!”
“I can’t help it,” Tam said.
*'I wouldn’t worry about anything,
Mrs. Davis. Lord.” fat Billy Martell
said comfortably, "what's the use of
worrying?”
Tam liked this big, sprawling, loosely
built man—indeed, she almost loved
him for his goodness and loyalty
to George—but the tenor of his words
.was stirring a chill uneasiness in her
heart. Of what w«as he trying to
warn her. for what was he trying to
prepare her?
"I'm worried horribly—about this,”
Tam said in an undertone.
“Well, you forget it. We’ll have old
George out of this jam by this time
next week.” Billy said. “Been follow
ing It in the papers?”
“No, I couldn’t, I’ve been too—too
Kick over the whole thing. He asked
-ate not to, anyway.”
i
“Sensible, too. See that place,
that’s Eucalyptus Court,” Billy said,
gesturing with his left hand toward
a magnificent old place set In 10 level
acres of garden. "That’s Budget's
place. Old Budget was a highbinder
who used to do some business with
my father-”
“You two seem to be getting along
very nicely up there,” George pres
ently Interrupted In a yawning voice.
“Isn’t that Menlo Park?”
"Here we are,” Billy said. He
had turned on a curved drive into
a garden hidden among shrubs and
shadowed on this forbidding sunless
Winter day by trees; now he blew a
long blast on his motor horn that
brought a lean boy of 11 racing about
the big house and caused a red
cheeked, drowsy little girl of 9 or 10
to come.to open the front door.
“Mother, they're here!” she called,
and immediately Ellen Martell came
out of the dining room doorway and
welcomed her guests affectionately.
Somewhere in the late thirties, a
brown-haired woman with round
brown eyes and a gentle manner, she
went upstairs with Tamara to the
guest room. The men disappeared
into the library.
Elinor, the sleepy, red-cheeked
child, watched Tamara brush up her
hair and change from her town suit
to a silk frock.
"Mother, she is like an actress!”
Elinor said admiringly. Tam touched
the child's small turned-up no6e with
her hairbrush.
“I was an actress until last Summer,
darline.”
[ tvmenuy, ueorge saia. me ram
dripped off his old hat; his brown
face had turned a little pale. “Yep,
I guess that fall did for him.” he said
•imply. “The police are looking for
me, all right. Well—I'll drop you at
the house, Tam, and go down to the
City Hall and see what they want.
'Manslaughter,' eh? See this edi
torial here? Ha—that's a break!
“Dead. eh?"
They went back to the car and got
Into it, and Tam said:
"Go straight to the City Hall,
George. They’ll be watching the
house. It’ll be better to—to give your
self up as soon as you can.”
George turned the wheel obediently.
Neither husband nor wife spoke again
bS the car moved through the splash
ing and falling rain toward the city
jail.
* * * *
That week end the Davises went
down to the Martell place in Menlo
Park. Bill Martell, the junior member
of the law firm, stopped for them at
*12 o'clock on a dark, somber Satur
day and drove them down in his im
posing big car. Tamara was on the
front seat. Her host entertained her
• 11 the way down the peninsula with
•tories of the firms and homes they
passed. Tam gathered that Martell,
Hunter & Martell had sued or de
fended almost everybody in their time.
The enormous packing houses had
•11 been Involved in various sorts of
litigation; the city itself had had
^trouble about the bridge: the railway
had evidently had a lawsuit for almost
every mile of its length.
"Life is one long struggle in which '
you try to eat your fellow man so
that he shan’t eat you,” Billy Martell
fold her cheerfully. •
“Oh. I can’t think that." Tam said,
turning her disturbed blue eyes tow'ard
him
"Oh, no!” Elinor said, awed.
“Oh. yes. Do you like actresses?”
“Well, they scare me,” Elinor said.
“I don’t see that anything srares
you,” her mother said. “Staring poor
Mrs. Davis out of countenance,.that
way! Would you like to lie down
and rest for a while, Mrs. Davis?
Shall we disappear?”
“Oh, please don't!” Tam begged,
stretching out an impulsive hand. “I
like to—to be with people. I'm-”
Her eyes met those of the other
woman. “I’m anxious,’ she said
simply.
"You must be. Of course, it's ter
ribly-worrying,” Ellen Martell said
sympathetically. "Well, let's go down
and find these men. It's so horrid
out that Billy was suggesting a game
of bridge; they can’t play golf; it's
going to rain. And my father adores
an afternoon game of bridge of all
things!”
The quiet, infinitely pleasant routine
of the big household enveloped Tam.
It was impassible to worry in this
atmosphere of confidence, normality.
She and her hostess descended to a
snapping living room fire. Ellen Mar
ten's brisk old father was active in
setting up a green table, hunting out
complete card packs. There was no
pencil anywhere. “It is extraordinary
to me that I cannot seem to keep a
pencil in that game closet!" Ellen said.
A capped and aproned maid came
in to say respectfully that Martin
w'ould like to know how many for
dinner.
"Billy, how many for dinner? Do
help me." Mrs. Martell called to the
men, who now emerged from the
library. "Are you staying, Max?”
"I can’t,” Max Martell said. “Lou is
having people in. How do you do, Mrs.
Davis? No, I can’t stay, Ellen. How
do you do, Dr. Alexander? It looks
as if you people were going to be cut
ting each other's throats in about two
seconds. Good-by. every one!”
"Aunt Ellen,” a tall boy said in the
doorway, “dad’s going, but he says I
can stay if you want me. Do you
want me?”
"Of course, I want you. Max. But
tell Martin and telephone your
mother.”
"Dad'll tell mother. I’ll catch him.”
The boy disappeared and an anxious
little girl in a raincoat took his place
in the doorway to ask timidly:
"Is Elinor here?”
"Upstairs, Grace Marian. She was
here a minute ago. She’s been trying
to telephone you all day.”
"I was at the daintist . . .” Grace
Marian giggled on a fading voice. She
went away and Mrs. Martell spread
the pack briskly.
"Cut, every one! I’m out. No, Billy,
don’t—I want to be out. I have to
telephone and send some flowers to
Ann Bainbridge. No. honestly, father,
I really want to be out! You two take
the Davises on and trim them nicely.”
(To be continued.)
Elissa Landi Asks Final Decree.
LOS ANGELES. May 13 (A*).—Elissa
Landi's lawyer applied for final de
cree of divorce for her yesterday.
The motion picture actress won an
interlocutory decree May 9, 1935, from
John Cecil Lawrence, London bar
rister. She charged cruelty and testi
fied he told her he associated with
other women and advised her to do
the same with other men.'
---
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