Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

sidewalk, Dick started to signal for a cab. Ruth quickly pulled his arm down. In a cab, they would be home in a few minutes. She wanted to be with him longer. "Let's walk," she said. Dick smiled at her, the smile said, "You're wonderful," and it promised a million exciting things. They crossed the bridge over the Chicago River and stood for a few minutes looking down into its murky blackness. They stood very close. A few cars went by. Ruth looked up at Dick. He took her face gently between his hands. Then he kissed her on the cheek. Ruth put her arms around him and kissed his mouth, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She shivered. "Cold?" he asked, huskily. "No," she answered. They walked on. When they arrived in front of her apartment house, Ruth looked at her watch. "Heavens!" she said, "it's two o'clock." She laughed. "There won't be much sleep for me tonight." "I shouldn't have kept you out so late," Dick said concernedly. "Don't be silly," Ruth told him. "I kept you out." Dick opened the door. Hand in hand they walked up the three flights of stairs to her apartment. On the top stair, Dick took her in his arms again. "Well," he said, kissing her again, "this is good night." Ruth opened her eyes. Then, suddenly, she tensed. There was a man standing in front of her door. He was bulky, sinister in appearance. He wore a slouch hat well over his eyes. He was looking at them. Dick turned around. The man came over. "You Ruth Manson?" he asked, brusquely. Ruth nodded. The man looked at Dick. "Who are you?" "Dick Crane," Dick said. "What is this?" The man took out a badge. "You'd both better come with me," he said. "The sergeant wants to talk to this girl." A LL the way down to the station, **■ Dick kept demanding to know what it was all about. The detective was grimly silent. Dick kept assuring Ruth that there must be some mistake, but there was fear in his voice. They walked up the steps of the station into the bright hard light of the police court. Ruth's heart was in her mouth. She clung to Dick, trembling. When they entered the room, Dick suddenly smiled and patted her arm. "It's going to be all right," he said, "there's Mr. Franklin from our store." He laughed. "There's probably some mix up about the bracelet. Don't worry." Ruth watched Dick cross the room and shake hands with the tall, distinguished looking man he had called Mr. Franklin. She stood there, under the cold, distrustful eyes of the desk sergeant as Dick and Mr. Franklin conferred. Now and again, Dick raised his voice, angrily. She heard him say, "That's ridiculous!" Several times he shook his head. Then the sergeant rapped on the desk and called them all to the railing. The sergeant asked her several questions about the bracelet. How long, he wanted to know, had she kept it before returning it to the store? Several times, Ruth protested. Her throat felt dry. "Please," she said, "tell me what this is all about." Mr. Franklin turned to her. "The bracelet Mr. Crane picked up from you," he said, slowly and evenly, "was not the one you received." "You don't have to stand for this," Dick said hotly. "Don't say anything until you get a lawyer." "But I haven't done anything!" Ruth cried. Mr. Franklin held up the bracelet. "Is this the bracelet you gave Mr. Crane?" Ruth looked at it. "I guess so," she said. "I'm not an expert. I — " She looked helplessly at Dick. "7s that the bracelet, Dick?" Dick nodded. "Yes," he said. "Ruth, this is preposterous! Our experts say this bracelet is paste. They're implying that you had a copy made of the real bracelet and then turned this phoney over to me." Ruth felt the blood rushing to her face. "That's accusing me of stealing!" she said. "Yes," Dick said. "They're wrong." "Maybe we are and maybe we aren't," the sergeant said grimly. "Anyway we're going to hold her. We're also going to pick up her accomplice, this girl Gladys who sent her the bracelet. It looks like a very simple case to me." "Dick!" Ruth cried. Suddenly she was in his arms. "Don't worry, honey," Dick said. "I'll think of something." WHAT happened during the next few hours was like a nightmare. They took her away from Dick, led her down a long corridor and put her in a cell. She cried for hours. Then, sitting up, she looked around. In jail! She was suddenly filled with INHALING needn't worry your throat! There's a lot of difference in cigarettes ! And here's how the five most popular brands stack up— as compared by eminent doctors:* The other four brands averaged more than three times as irritant as PHILIP MORRIS. And this irritation — from the other four — lasted more than five times as long! Sure, you inhale. All smokers do. So— be sure about your cigarette! CALL FOR PHILIP MORRIS (*Reported in authoritative medical journals.) AUGUST, 1942 JtMfXfCAS 'scTtnedt acARtrr* 81