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Show ?-' e b MY ' " By JOSEPH Mc CORD " wni,, THE STORY SO FAR: Larry Cottt. Startled pretty Jacqueline (Jack) Anthony, An-thony, public stenographer at the Hotel Raynear, by telling her she can realize her globe-trotting ambitions by marrying marry-ing him. Before their marriage, they When Virgie Blake returned after her illness, she made prompt discovery dis-covery of Larry's return and plied Jacqueline with eager questions. Receiving Re-ceiving little information or encouragement, encour-agement, she had not reverted to the subject again. But today, when Jacqueline saw her bearing down excitedly on the office, she knew instinctively what her friend was going to talk about and prepared to meet it with a show of indifference. . Virgie closed the door behind her and bent over the desk. Her black eyes were wide, her red lips parted. "My dear!" she burst out in a stage whisper. "Guess what?" "I'm sure I don't know," Jacqueline Jacque-line ventured casually. "Mrs. Cutter's here!" This was too much for Jacqueline's Jacque-line's .composure. Her own eyes widened. She gave a little gasp. "Who?" "Mrs. Cutter ... the old ball and chain herself! And, of all things . . . She's a dizzy blonde! You could have knocked me over!" "But . . . but how do you know?" Larry's wife managed with a supreme su-preme effort. "Listen, dearie. I saw them just now on the mezzanine. And that isn't all. I got in on an old-time family battle! Was she telling him where to head in? I'll say she was. I heard her tell him she was fed up with everything. She looked it, too! She's that sort of a dame. Can you feature it?" "Not quite," was the truthful answer. an-swer. "Well . . ." Virgie straightened up. She wished that she might add more details, but none suggested themselves. Then she noticed Jacqueline Jac-queline sitting motionless, eyes downcast, staring at the keyboard of her typewriter. Virgie's eyes narrowed nar-rowed shrewdly. "Jack," she began in a low voice, "that didn't hit you, did it?" "Of course not." The stenographer's stenogra-pher's hand fumbled in the open desk for a sheet of paper. Mechanically she inserted it into the machine. If only Virgie would leave her. Instead, Miss Blake's hand came out and rested lightly on a small shoulder. "Sorry, dear. That's me every time. Forget it." "It's all right." Jacqueline's smile proved it. As Virgie left the office, the stenographer's ste-nographer's fingers tapped swiftly on the keys, faltered. Her hands dropped into her lap. The words she had written were blurred. The whole world seemed rocking crazily. Virgie was wrong. She had to be, unless . . . Oh, no. She was wrong! That couldn't have been Larry's Lar-ry's wife. "I'm Larry's wife," Jacqueline' found herself whispering. She could not have told why, but she knew that she was clinging to that. Clinging Cling-ing desperately. For the first time. But . . . there was an insistent pounding in her ears. Larry's own words. "You're the only woman. Only woman . . . Only woman." But she wasn't the only woman. Jacqueline shivered slightly. There was another woman. With Larry now. Come to find him, to quarrel with him ... in public. "A dizzy blonde." When Larry Cutter stopped at Jacqueline's Jac-queline's office door the next afternoon, after-noon, it needed but one glance from those dark blue eyes to confirm his worst fears. That cigar woman had seen and reported. No telling what kind of story she had concocted. And the worst of it was, he could not utter a word in his own defense. Nothing to do but take it. He swallowed an oath and walked into the little room with as genuine a smile as he could muster. "Well, Miss Anthony, I'm checking check-ing out." He felt that the expression was singularly appropriate. "Bag and baggage." Jacqueline looked at him and said nothing. "Jack . . ." he exclaimed impulsively, impul-sively, then got himself in hand. "I guess there's nothing to say this time . . . except good-by." "Good-by, Mr. Cutter." Larry hesitated, then turned on his heel and left. Jacqueline never knew how she managed to get through the balance of the afternoon. There were few customers and her head ached so that she could not read. She had the feeling that someone had tacked a vacant smile on her face. There was but one thing she wanted ... a chance to go home. To throw herself her-self down on the bed and let the tears come. Jacqueline was terribly anxious to leave the office that night, but just as she was preparing to go, Lieutenant Lieuten-ant Staples walked in the door. He helped himself to a seat and grinned amiably at his hostess. "Want to hear a good joke, Miss Anthony?" "I'd love to." Jacqueline placed her hand to her lips to assure herself her-self that the smile was still there. "This one's on me. You know INSTALLMENT FOURTEEN signed a contract providing that Jacqueline Jac-queline may continue her present mode of living for six months, after which she could tear up the contract. Larry offered no explanation when she warned that a detective was watching him. that fellow Cutter we were talking about one day?" "Oh, yes." "Well, early this afternoon I wandered wan-dered into the bar here. I had another an-other guy on my mind, another racket rack-et entirely. I was sizing up the mob along the mahogany when somebody taps me on the shoulder. It was young Cutter." . "Was it?" "No less. He gives me a pleasant smile. 'Looking for me, were you?' he asks. I tried to act dumber than usual and tells him he's got the wrong number. , I don't know him. 'Says you,' he laughs. 'You been tagging after me pretty steady, Lieutenant. So I thought maybe I could save you some trouble. I'm pulling out today for good. You might pass the word along anywhere it'll do you some good.' Cool, wasn't he?" ."Very." "And all the time, I thought I was doin' a nice job of playin' shadow." Jacqueline nodded vacantly. Her heart skipped a beat as Staples paused. "That sure was a good one on me," the detective continued. "I knew you'd get a smile out of it, too. Well, I guess he's gone, all right. So's my weekly retainer. They told me at the garage he'd been in there asking questions about the roads to Jacqueline was thinking of the movie she went to see ... on 'her wedding day. the Windy City. But I'm not interested. inter-ested. Well, so long." Jacqueline found herself breathing again. After her coveted spell of weeping, weep-ing, she forced herself to take stock of the situation. For once there was no momentous decision to make. Larry was gone. Vince was gone. She was back where she had started. Perhaps fate had played enough with her. The days dragged along wearily, each one bringing the same routine. There was but one bright spot . . . business seemed to ,be picking up. If the spurt lasted, there was a hope for Jacqueline that it would not be too long before she could square her final account with Larry. Not quite the final one, either. She dreaded that. Not because of the idea of that last, and legal, separation, sep-aration, but the certainty that it could not be accomplished without the usual legal formalities and publicity. pub-licity. The neighbor state might let people into wedlock without any fanfare fan-fare of trumpets, but it was too much to hope that the dissolving process would be like that. What would it be? Charges of desertion, incompatability ... or worse? Time enough to worry over that. The unknown blonde, perhaps. Vince wrote occasionally from the farm. His letters were like himself, vague and erratic. Jacqueline was given to understand under-stand that he was feeling very well now, and was hard at work. His enthusiasm in the new invention had not lagged, apparently. He said nothing about working for Larry, save that the latter had insisted he learn how to drive the roadster. Vince liked that. He was becoming becom-ing an accomplished chauffeur, he admitted. And then, one September day, Vincent Vin-cent Anthony strolled into the lobby of the Raynear. Jacqueline scarcely recognized her father when she discovered him smiling at her from the doorway. He looked so much better than when she last saw him. His grizzly hair and small moustache were neatly trimmed. He wore a natty blue suit and carried a gray hat, obviously obvi-ously new, in his hand. A healthy tan browned his cheeks. "Why, Vince! Come in!" his daughter laughed ... for the first time in weeks, it seemed to her. "I scarcely know you. I thought you vere one of my millionaire customers!" When her father, Vince Anthony, became be-came ill, Larry invited him into the country. One afternoon Larry had a long talk in the hotel lobby with a woman in his employ. Now conUnue with the story. Vince grinned almost sheepishly and helped himself to a chair. "I've been fixing up a little," he admitted. "About time." "But where did you come from? I'm so thrilled I hardly know what to say. You're going to stay for a while, aren't you?" "I came down from the farm," Vince admitted. "Oh." Jacqueline's smile faded. It brought everything back. "Yes, I had to come down on business busi-ness for Larry." "How is . . . Larry?" She had to ask that. "I don't know. He's been sticking stick-ing pretty close to the place, but he don't act the way he used to. He's got something on his mind ... always al-ways brooding. He worries me. I bet he's lost about fifteen pounds. Maybe you've noticed it." "I haven't seen him, Vince." "No? I rather figured he'd been down here on some of his trips. Though he didn't say so, and I never asked. Did you have a quarrel quar-rel with him, Skipper?" "Of course not." "I didn't know. He's coming down here late tonight sometime. I'm going go-ing to meet him." "But you're not going right back, are you?" "Not sure." Vince looked uncomfortable. uncom-fortable. He acted as if he had said rather more than he intended. "Then you'll have dinner with me. We'll eat down in the cafeteria so we won't have to waste time getting get-ting a meal." After he had gone Jacqueline realized real-ized for the first time how she had missed him. It seemed so good to see him again. And he looked so well. If only he wouldn't insist upon talking about Larry too much. It still hurt . . . almost like seeing him. And Larry was coming to the city tonight! CHAPTER XII The news that Larry was returning to the city that night left Jacqueline vaguely uneasy. What was he going go-ing to do . . . and Vince? Vince had looked so ill at ease after he admitted he was to meet Larry late at night. She would try to find out something some-thing about that before the evening was over. Enough to assure herself that everything was all right as far as Vince was concerned. It was nearly dinnertime before Vince returned to the hotel. He was in a talkative mood, but Jacqueline Jacque-line could not escape from a growing grow-ing conviction that he was attempting attempt-ing to keep their conversation in his own hands to a great extent. Several Sev-eral times she referred to his trip down to the city and, very promptly, he changed the topic. Vince was more than willing to speak of his invention. But with an air of delighted secrecy. "Shall we walk out to the apartment?" apart-ment?" she asked when they had finished their dinner. "It is not very far." Vince hesitated. "I don't know. We've got plenty of time. What do you say to a movie? I haven't seen one I don't know when." "Whatever you like, dear. There are several houses near here." Jacqueline was thinking of the movie she went to see ... on her wedding day. She had wanted to go then to avoid conversation with Larry. Lar-ry. She wondered if Vince, possibly, possi-bly, was not using the same device. de-vice. Perhaps not. But, her vague discomfort increased in-creased when her father selected a film of the gangster type. It proved to deal with the activities of a super sleuth, matching his cunning against the underworld. To Jacqueline, it was unpleasantly suggestive and she tried to pay as little attention to it as possible. There was a time when Jacqueline Jacque-line herself would have absorbed such perils with shameless interest, but not tonight. She and Vince might have traded places, in a way. He seemed so utterly irresponsible now, in need of guidance. And she never had felt so old. Later, in the Courtland street apartment, Vince's glances wandered wan-dered to the little clock on the mantelpiece. man-telpiece. Finally, when he buttoned his coat with a suggestive air, the girl could endure her suspense no longer. long-er. She must learn something about this night's excursion before she allowed al-lowed Vince to get away from her. "What time is your appointment with Larry?" she asked, trying to make the tone of her voice casual. "Oh . . . late." , "How late?" "Well, I don't have to meet him until about twelve. But I thought I'd start a lillle early, you know." "Where are you going to meet him?" "In a little restaurant where he eats sometimes." Vince was becoming becom-ing more and more uncomfortable under this direct examination. 'TO HE CONTINUED) |