HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1936-05-21, Page 6I*
Vogel
finished, then
WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES Thursday, May 21st, 1936
WOMAN
REX BEAC-H
“Copyright by Rex Beach”
SYNOPSIS: Amos Ethridge is ■
Sound murdered in a country lane with Mrs. Holmes realized that this tragedy
was a poignant quality to her grief.
She was very young and very frail.
hotel in accordance with a request believe me.”
from Mrs. Holmes, and after she had “What do you mean?” Mrs, Holmes
beat about the bush for a while she faintly demanded.
told him haltingly that she wished to
make a new affidavit. There were
certain points in her first one that she
realized upon careful thought, need
ed explanation, modification,
listened until she had
he said;
"I’ve been expecting
for the trial.”
"But—the trouble is
tried now, in the newspapers,
verdict will be in before the jury goes
out."
"Don’t you believe he’s guilty?”
• The woman averted her eyes.
“There are some people who couldn’t
commit a murder, and he’s one,
There’s nothing vicious about him. He
liked Mr. Ethridge and he knew noth
ing
fair.”
“Nothing vicious, eh? Nothing vic
ious about his mother, either, I sup- where Mrs. Holmes was stopping. On
pose?” Vogel grinned derisively. ’ account of the hour, she took old Ja-
“Tell that to the reporter you shot ( cob Riggs with her.
at.”
a crude cross of twigs on his breast
and a stented sheet of note paper in
his pocket. He was the richest man
in the state with power and influence
■enough' to make himself a candidate
for Governor. With his death came
Innts of an unsavory private life, of
scandal that might come to light
if the murder is investigated too
■Closely, . . . Mary Holmes, a former
opera singer whose career was wreck
ed when she lost her voice at the
birth of her’ son, lives in squalor'
nearest the scene of the crime. . . .
on a small chicken farm where she
ekes out a poor living and tries to
had broken her like a butterfly. A
curse on men like Amos Ethridge!
“But there’s a terrible mistake
somewhere," the girl earnestly assert
ed. “I can’t explain the car with one
headlight — the car that passed you
after the •shooting—and yet Jerry de
clares he left your house an hour be
fore the murder and drove straight to
town. He’s telling the truth: I know
he is.”
"They claim he laid in wait."
"But they couldn’t prove it without
you! It’s your evidence that contra
dicts him. You didn’t actually re
cognize him—you said so! And if it
“You understand plain English, I
You’ll hear a lot of it if you maintain I
tin's attitude.” There was a pause, •
“You must have some affection for |
this—this son of yours, That’s noth
ing more than nature! But the more
lies you tell the more the jury will be
lieve in the story you told me and
swore to; the more firmly you will
convince them that you are swearing
falsely to save your illegitimate child.”
“1 see. If I don’t do what you say
you’ll tell all about—Jerry?”
“And you! Exactly. I’d like to
1 spare you both, but—” the speaker
shrugged. “Better grit your teeth and
go through with it. Yon can’t save
him, no matter what you do.” With
these words Vogel left.
whatever about the Woods af- i Hazel Woods was surprised late
that night to receive a telephone re
quest to come at once to the hotel
this. Save it
Jerry’s being
The
1
2nd in drink the forgetfulness of past had been Jerry you’d have know him.
glories when she was Maria di Nardi, I Of course you would! You’d know ■ 1199-world-renowned opera singer . . . .
Gerald Holmes, a talented young art
ist, is hated and loved by his mother
"who is embittered because his birth
caused the loss of her voice and
■wrecked her operatic career. He has
bees befriended by the murdered Eth
ridge, and is engaged to another of
Amos Ethridge’s proteges . . . Hazel
Woods, lovely and brilliant young
actress, has been helped to success
"by Ethridge. She lives in a small cot
tage owned by Ethridge . . . Jacob
.Riggs, eccentric old-time actor, now
a doorman at the theater where Hazel
Woods plays, has appointed himself
her guardian and lives in a room ov
er her garage.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
“I—I only told what I saw,” Mrs.
Holmes declared, uncertainly. “I
swore to it and you know what it
means when you swear to a thing.
Why —they’d arrest me, for all I
l<now.”
do. I’m utterly helpless.” She broke !
down now and, hiding her face in her j
hands, she sobbed wretchedly; the:
tears came through her fingers. There .
your own boy anywhere—”
Hazel protested breathlessly: ‘“No,
no! Think! Oh, God, think of some
thing to show it wasn’t he! Some
action, some gesture, some peculiar
ity! Maybe there were two head
lights on that last car and you were
mistaken. It’s so easy to be mistaken
and just that one point might save
him . Think! If it were me I’d—
think of something. I'd—But they’ve
discredited me; there’s nothing I can
Yes, and on men like Vogel!
After a while the mother said,
roughly: “Go away! Gime me a
chance to think. Mind you, I don’t
believe it’s any use but—” Again she
broke out in gusty vexation. “Oh,
why does everything I do turn out
wrong? It’s his fault as much as
much as mine. It’s easy .for you to
tell me to lie, to perjure myself—”
“I don’t. I merely say what I’d—
be willing—to do.”
“All right!
now. I’ll let you know if I can think
of anything, but I’m sick. That’s my
luck. Sick! That’s how things go
with me. I—I wish I were dead!”
That afternoon Vogel called at the
Mrs. Holmes argued feebly until he
Tears fell through bttween her
fingers.
All right! Go along
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. She had taken
I Jacob about with her a good deal this
past week, not merely as an escort,
but also because he displayed such pa
thetic eagerness to comfort and to
protet her. In these troubled circum-
stanes she was grateful for sympathy
and faith from whatever source, and
of all her friends he alone remained
loyal; he was indeed a father. He
was, if possible, “queerer” than ever,
more given to melancholy quotations
from the Bible; nevertheless she had
a tender feeling for him and her mis
fortune had drawn them close togeth
er.
Hazel found a number of reporters
’ waiting in the hotel lobby and was
; surprised to learn that Mrs. Holmes
had likewise sent for them. Her sur
prise deepened, hope stirred, when the
two attorneys she had hired for Jerry
hurried in, explaining that they, too,
had been summoned. It was quite a
group that finally rode upstairs and
filed into the sick woman’s room.
Mrs. Holmes was up and dressed,
but she looked desperately ill. As
soon as her visitors had disposed of
themselves, she began, in a voice
harsh and purposeful:
“Get out your pencils, boys. There’s
another big story coming. I had a
talk with Mr. Vogel today and told
him I had made a false affidavit. I
told him my account of the Ethridge
murder was a pure invention.”
The correspondents exchanged
glances, the attorneys leaned forward
eagerly. Hazel felt old Jacob’s bony
fingers upon her arm and heard him
mutter some scriptural phrase of
thanksgiving.
“I’m going to tell you the whole
truth, and I want you to print it. I
sent for Jerry’s lawyers so they can
have it put down in proper form and
I can swear to it. I don’t know how
such things ought to be done, but—”
“Never mind. Go ahead,” one of
the attorneys urged.
“I’ll start at the beginning and go
, along in my own way. Please don’t
i interrupt me—you can straighten it
out later. Well, then, I did see an
automobile with one headlight pass
my house^that night—I was waiting
for Jerry—and it stopped in the pine
grove up by the lane. But that’s all I
actually saw. I didn’t see the mur
der; I didn’t see the car come back|
I don’t know when it came back, for
I never stepped outside my door af
ter Jerry told me good night. After
he left I went to bed. I heard some
shots, but I didn’t know Amos Eth
ridge had been killed until the next
morning. As soon as I heard about
it, I hurried up there and hung around
all ‘day. That’s the truth, so help me
God!”
A question or two was voiced, but
the woman did not answer,
“I talked to some of you boys that
morning and told you all I knew, but
you went out of your way to treat me
contemptuously—make fun of me. I
was furious when I saw your stories.
. . . When I was on the stage I used
to get a thrill out of interviews; I
was crazy for publicity. People in my
profession frequently get that way. I.
loved to see my name in print. I sav
ed every notice, every criticism; I col
lected thousands of clippings and pre
served them. It’s a mild form a di
sease and lots of actors have it, for
they’re always playing to an audience.
. . , I’ve been acting all my life, on
the stage, at home, before my' friends,
to myself. When you’re in print,
you’re acting in a way, only to a dif
ferent audience. Whefi I lost my voice
I lost my audience. That was the
hardest thing to bear. I used to think
I was the most tragic figure in the
world, but—’’the speaker smiled bit
terly—“I guess it was largely because
I never saw my name in print, never
heard it mentioned any more. What
is a career except—applause? What
docs a person get out of it except
food for his vanity? I'm telling you
this to explain what happened next,
for if you don't understand the sOrt
of pefsoh I am—the theatrical tern-
perament—you won’t be able to un
derstand what I did.
“Well, after I got over my first re*
sentment at being; ridiculed, the old
disease came back, If pleased me io
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think the public will believe you. The
circumstantial evidence is too strong
and you haven’t really destroyed
part of it. Am I right, boys?”
(Concluded Next Week)
erich; C. R. Hunt, D. B. Weldon of
London; S. R. Stuart of Mitchell;
Charles S. Band of Toronto and N. M.
Paterson of Fort William. The ele
vator paid a dividend of 25c a share,
plus a bonus of 15c.
anybroke in: “I understand you perfect
ly, and your feelings do you credit.
But I am a servant of the people and
the law must be upheld. I sincerely
regret that in doing your duty you I
placed your son in jeopardy, but it’s j
not the first time such a thing has |
happened. Justice must be served and
murder will out. Truth is more sacr
ed even than a mother’s love. It's my
task to discover the
“But you haven’t,
taken,” the woman
not going to let an
suffer for my mistake.'
“Mistake!”
“Well, call it whatever you want to.
I gave wrong testimony. I—lied!”
“Indeed. It’s too bad you’re so
late confessing it. Now see here”—
the speaker’s tone changed — “we’ll
end this foolishners right now. I’m
not going to let you make a monkey
out of me, whatever your natural im
pulse may be. I dare say you'll testi
fy that I deceived or coerced you;
put words into your mouth; induced
you to sign something you didn’t
read. We’11 see! Are you going to
play straight, do your duty as a citi
zen and stick to what you said—or?”
“No. I can’t. I’m going to tell the
truth.”
Vogel rose. “Thanks for letting me
know. If you choose to discredit
yourself in any such manner Til make
a good job of it. You see, I’ve looked
up your whole history and I’ll make
you tell it to the jury, with your own
lips. It won’t help the defendant any,
truth.”
I was — mis
protested. “I’m
innocent person
if
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and I
Nardi
a for-
and I
be written about and to have my
words quoted, even though you called
me the ‘goose woman,’ a bedraggled
old hag, a drunken harridan. When
I realized how far I’d. gone back a
lot of dead hopes and ambitions came
to life . Embers I thought were cold.
The ‘goose woman’! It’s a good
name for me.
“All at once I. dropped out of the
papers entirely. I got no more thrills
had nothing to think about, nothing to
occupy me; I had to quit acting. I
was awfully lonely. I’d had a taste of
the drug; the habit was back on me
fiercer than ever, if you know what
I mean. I dare say after this you can
follow my motives. I pierced, out a
story to fit my theory of the killing,
studied the ground so as not to con
tradict myself, planted an old glove—
It was very simple; it looked per
fectly easy; I didn’t think I was doing
harm to anybody for I felt sure the
murder would never be solved
was merely bringing Maria di
back to life—-laying roses on
gotten shrine. I don’t know
don’t care who killed Amos Ethridge.
Whoever did it had a good reason,
no doubt, for he was a bad man.
“Mr. Vogel believed me. tie brought
me here, put me up, dressed me up,
and I got so I believed my own story.
It was wonderful to 'come back’, to
creep out of my shell and become
Maria di Nardi again, even though it
was all make-believe. There’s a crab
—the hermit crab—that does some
thing like that. He’s an ugly, soft,
misshappen thing, but lie crawls into
empty shells, beautiful shells, the
owners of which have died ,and he
lives there. . . I had a glorious time
in my new, beautiful shell until I rea
lized that I had put a noose around
my boy’s neck.”
Mary Holmes fell silent. Nobody
spoke for a moment; then somebody
inquired:
“What did Vogel say when you told
him this?”
“He said I was lying to save Jerry
and he had expected something of the
sort. Then he threatened me—”
“Threatened you?” It was one of
the lawyers speaking.
“Yes, he’s holding something over
me. Now that I’ve defied him, I’ve
got to tell you what it is—that means
telling the worid—and it isn't easy
even for a 'bedraggled old harridan*
like me. You see—I was never mar
ried! . . . Well gentlemen, there you
the whole story. Mr. Vogel doesn’t
believe it, but you do, don’t you? And
the public will believe it. Why, you
must know I'm telling the truth.”
The speaker stared eagerly at first
one then another of her hearers. One
of the older men answered her:
“It makes no difference, Mrs, Hol
mes, what we fellows think. We’re
trained not to think, but to get the
news. We’ll send out this story, if
you say so, but are you sure you want
Us to? Will it do any good?”
“Then you—don’t believe me?”
“Lets’ put it this way; we don*
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The Walkerton town council fol
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fire siren alarm system in town. The
cost is expected to be about $250.
Goderich Elevator Officers
At the annual general meeting of
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