Radio Digest (Nov 1929-Apr 1930)

41 By Salisbury ^ield GERTRUDE is an exceedingly peppy, modern young woman. When her brother Harry inherits a million he determines to make a lady out of Gert, giving her anything she wants, which turns out to be a husband. After buying the prospect a divorce Brother Harry starts around the world. By the time he returns to the happy couple Gertrude has found marriage a mirage, and Harry again foots the bills. But he is sympathetic when Victor gets thrown out of his happy home, his clothes flying after. Of course the fact that Little Harry has red hair, while neither Gert nor Victor have the slightest evidence of such a tinge, complicates matters. But when Gert finds Victor in another woman's arms, she decides that enough is too much. Since Harry is to blame for the discovery, he decides to make a surprise visit on the boy and finds that Gert's husband is really blameless. Gert, however, insists that the only way she can ever be happy and win Victor back again is to divorce him. So Harry with a sigh decides that blood is thicker than water and sets out to give Gert what she wants., CHAPTER XI IT'S FUNNY how hard people will work to keep a couple together. They do things much better at the Zoo. There, at the first sign of trouble, they put them in separate cages. I'm frank to admit I did my best to talk Gert out of this mad idea of hers. "You may know what you're doing," I said, "but divorcing your husband, in order not to lose him, is too deep for me." "That," said Gert, "is because you're a man. Any woman would understand." "Very likely," I said. "But I'm as much in the fog as ever." And I was. For as far as I could make out, Gert's formula ran as follows: she'd married Victor and lost him; if she hadn't married him she wouldn't have lost him; so now all she had to do was to lose him all over again, and everything would be high, wide and handsome. When in doubt, let Nature take its course — it will anyway. So instead of puzzling my bean further, I rang up Jack Parkinson, my lawyer. And next morning I went to call, by appointment, on Mr. Herman Silverstein. Mr. Silverstein turned out to be a cagy bird, with the beak of an eagle, and kind, tired eyes. "Mr. Parkinson has spoken to me about you," he said. * "And to me about you," I replied. "He says you're the best in the business. I'm here on my sister's behalf; she wants a divorce." "Why?" "I'm blessed if I know. But she certainly wants it, and she generally gets what she wants." Then, after explaining the situation to the best of my ability, I added: "Though in Dutch with my sister, my brotherin-law is a pretty good egg. He's more genteel than most song writers — and also more Gentile. So don't be toe hard on him." "I imagine," said Mr. Silverstein, "your sister would like to get her divorce on the grounds of desertion." "Why not?" I replied. "Her husband has certainly left her." "Unfortunately, in the law, the husband's residence is the family domicile. If we were to write his wife a letter asking her to join him there, and she refused, she wouldn't have a leg to stand on. You're sure there isn't another woman?" "Not unless he's a fast worker. He only left home last night." "Then, in my opinion, it would be easier for the husband to get the divorce. Would your sister object to that?" "I don't think so. But I'm sure my brother-in-law would." "Well, you might ask him. In the meantime please tell your sister she can have any kind of divorce she wants." "But suppose you lack evidence?" "Nonsense, my dear fellow. Why should one lack evidence in a great manufacturing city like this?" He picked up the desk 'phone. "Send in Smith," he said. IN THE matter of looks Smith did little credit to the illustrious name he bore — a sallow, gloomy man, with a decided cast in his left eye. An ideal eye for his job, by the way, for when he was looking at you, he apparently wasn't. Smith, it seemed, was the office bloodhound. When I left Mr. Silverstein, he accompanied me. Illustrations By DUDLEY GLOYNE SUMMERS "Just show me where the guy lives," he said. "I'll do the rest." "Look here!" I said. "And this goes for your boss, too. If I catch you trying to frame my brother-in-law, you'll wish you'd never been born. Fun's fun, and fair's fair. Get me?" Smith looked at me, or I think he looked at me, though he seemed to be looking elsewhere — Smith looked at me, and sighed. "I gotcha," he said. Victor greeted me like a long lost brother. But when I'd explained my errand, he was not so cordial. "I'll not do it!" he declared. "I'd look fine, wouldn't I, divorcing Gert? But thanks for the tip. I'll write her a letter at once — and keep a copy. I'll have it registered, too. Then, if she gets funny, I can prove I've asked her to come and live here." "But Gert wants a divorce," I said. "Aren't you man enough to give it to her?" "No, I'm not," said Victor. "Besides, how do I know she really wants one?" "If that's all that's bothering you, ring her up." "I did. She wouldn't talk to me." "I can arrange that," I said. So I got Gert on the 'phone, told her what was expected of her, then handed the receiver to Victor. If I'm any judge, there was very little love and affection in the conversation that followed. And I gathered, from the way he slammed the receiver on the hook, that Victor was thoroughly upset. He was. "Get out of here!" he said. "But Victor, old man, I'm not to blame." "You are. Maybe you mean well, Harry, but ever since you mith!" I eard me in j the street on the run.