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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. 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