Delphos Daily Herald from Delphos, Ohio • Page 4

DELPHOS- HERM.EF SATURDAY. JUNE 21. 1941 Stewart Asks: What About Preparedness At War's End? Senator Nye By CHARLES P. STEWART Central Press Columnist WHEN this war's over, whether we do or don't get into it, sha.ll w.e or shall not lapse into quite a prolonged peace-at-any-price complex, as we did after World War No. 1 It seems funny now to compare that period, from about 1920 until not very long ago, with our present splurge of defense and aid the democracies activity.

We had pacifistic societies then all over the place. We have seme today, too, but now they're largely to as Nazis, Fascists, Communists, appeasers and even traitors. Back in the 1020's they put their stuff witness the Kellogg pact, our naval limitation bargain with Britain and Japan, and finally our neutrality law. That law has been modified of late, is due to be modified some more, may be repealed entirely and is spoken of in the most uncomplimentary terms. Yet the thing went through akiting directly after Senator Gerald P.

Nye introduced it in congress; we were still pacifistic at that stage o.f the game. Gerald had preceded introduction of his neutrality plan with an elaborate senatorial investigation of the causes of World War No. 1. The witnesses' general crdict was that capitalism got us into it. The appeasers still say so, but at the present writing they're bawled out like fury for saying it.

Then it was widely agreed that they were right. Else neutrality couldn't have passed. And Nye? While he was investigating he was amply commended, as being engaged in a great work. Now how about him The mildest name he's called is "isolationist," like Senator Burton K. Wheeler and Charley Lindbergh.

"Ail-Around Disarmament" At the time armament limitation was being urged, Congressman Fred Britten was chairman of the representatives' naval affairs committee. He was an extremely hard-boiled individual and like most folk, took it for granted that he was a big navy man. I thought I'd drop in on him and get the anti-limitation side of the argument. I did, and, "A man who hasn't got a gun," said Fred, "can't shoot. I don't know of any way of preventing wars except by all- around disarmament." That just goes to show how strong the sentiment was.

Why, American entrance into the League of Nations wasn't defeated by militarists, who objected to an alignment they were afraid would keep us OUT of future wars. It was defeated by isolationists, who were afraid such an association would involve us IN 'em. World War No. 1, in short, was regarded, after it was over, as a lesson AGAINST preparedness. It was overwhelmingly so regarded, as demonstrated by all the arms limitation and neutrality legislation I've mentioned.

It evidently was so regarded also by Britain and even Japan, or our Kellogg and 5-5-3 naval limitation treaties couldn't have been put across. the same conclusion be drawn following' the end of World War No. 2 I'd guess not. My guess would be that we'll pacificatory policies have been tried and have proved to be provocative of war the right way to be pacificatory is to be loaded for bear. Of course, if EVERYBODY would be peaceful and stay so, pacifism doubtless would be O.

K. But, seemingly, all hands can't be depended on to stay put. Some outlaw nation apparently is certain, sooner or later, to tear loose. The remedy evidently is not to whale the tar out of the outlaw and then to hogtie the cannibal so effectively that he never can start anything again. That was tried on Germany, in the treaty of Versailles, and it hasn't worked.

Besides, if a particular offender really can be permanently squelched, a different one may go on the rampage later on. For instance, Italy wasn't any especial hellion in 1914-18. Since then IT'S become a pest. We May Ease Up I wouldn't judge, then, that we'll saw off on our preparedness program at the current war's end. Perhaps we'll ease up a bit, but my impression is that we'll continue to lug a gun, and that we'll need to keep up our production of more and better firearms maybe forever.

The heck of it is that armament Isn't of any intrinsic use. A man In a gang ridden neighborhood may have to carry a six-shooter but it's valueless to him to eat or wear or keep him warm or to sleep In at night. The darned thing ia an absolutely uneconomic, pocket expense and a load to too. George Koiit.h-y i. Paris Island, Xoi'tb fViroliiiii.

ppcndiiif? diiys In's r.inlh- or. Tho (inild Soi'icly of ihc i'resby- church mol with Mrs. Clif- I'onl Sunimersolt Wednesday afternoon. A feature of the meeting wan tlir- showing of a motion picture, "Kt'-riirlh of a X'iition." s.und 11 In) 01 r. Chirm.

(Ironps No. 1 and No. 2 of the Society of Christian Service of the Motlrdi.st church met nt SALLY'S SALLIES U. S. Patent Olfico Distributed Features Syndicate, Inc the church parlors Wednesday afternoon.

Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Brown worn Sumluy afternoon guests of JVIr. iind Mm. John P.rown, of Lima.

Mr. and Mrs. Keiiiifth Wolfe and Ernest Clark spent Sunday with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wolfe and other relatives at Hoover, Ind.

Robert. Johnson, of Wayne, spoilt the week-end with parents, Mi', 1 Mis. I'ryse Johnson. Al'lernoun callers wore Helen Plimimor, ot (Jrover Hill, and Velma. Haunhoi'st, of Lima.

liillii; Bm'holtz, stink-nt of the I'lesliytcriiin College is spending tlm slimmer vacation with hi; parents. Mr. and Mrs. Charles liucholtz. Mr.

and Mrs. Frank Armstrong, of Limn, and Mrs. Albert Williams, of Van Wert, spent Sunday afternoon with Mr. and Mrs. Wirt Wright.

Mr. and Mrs. David Stemen, Leonard Stemen and Mrs. Delniar Stemen spent Sunday aftern'on at Ft. Wayne.

Wilbur Spridgeon, Russel Sprid- geon and son, Albert, o.l Jackson, Sunday guests of Mrs. Bell Spridgeon. Mr. and Mrs. Virgil Thompson and sons, Robert and diaries, spent Thursday with Mr.

and' Mrs. F. L. Vincent, Scott. Mr.

and Mrs. Lowell Shafar and children, of Rockfo.rd, spent Run- day with Mr. and Mrs. John Whit- t.en barge v. Mr.

and Mrs. Harle Morris and. daughter, spent Monday with Mr. and Mrs. William Downhour.

Mr. and Mrs. John Runnion were Sunday guests of Mr. and Mrs. Delniar Jackson.

SCHOOL DAYS (HIS WOULD HKP TO The man who boasts of being hardheaded mav be only a blockhead. "THE U.S. IF MEED HELP? TRY OUR VAMT HOUGHTON WRITTEN FOH AND RELEASED HY CENTRAL PRESS ASSOCIATION CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO "THAT TUNNEL'S caved in," Henry told the reckless Jones as the big man suggested they search it for the slayer of Professor Bisbee. "No one would go that way, because he couldn't get through." The deputy sheriff, who had started forward down the track, gun in hand, stopped. "That's right.

Sa-ay, you suppose he's in there now Jones laid a hand on Henry's arm. "If he i.s, we'd better get out of his line of lire." They moved off the right of way and approached the tunnel from a sharp angle. Jones eyed the heavy timbers. "Looks sound enough. Caved in in the middle, ch? This railroad been abandoned "It's never been used," Henry told him.

"It was built about 12 years ago to serve a big cement plant that was going to be developed. The cement company went broke, and so did the railroad. Most of the savings of people around here went with them. I lost more than live hundred dollars." Jones nodded. He was thinking about the murderer, not about Henry's financial troubles.

"If we've got this fellow cornered there's no sense in rushing in after him. We'd be perfect targets against the light. Two of us ought to stand guard and the other go for help." "There's a two-way radio in my car," the deputy told him, handing over his revolver. "Here, you keep this until I get back." He disappeared up the trail, and John Jones sat down on a convenient boulder at one side Of the tunnel mouth, gun trained on the big, dark hole. "Suppose you walk down 'the track a way and make a dash across to the other side," Jones suggested to Henry.

"If we watch the tunnel from opposite angles he won't be able to sneak out fai enough to take a shot at either of us." Henry's knees were weak, but they carried him a good hundrec 1 yards down the track and sped him across the rails like a frightened rabbit. He came up to the tunnel mouth opposite his boarder. "Can you see into the tunnel? Jones asked. "I think you'll do better if you move farther back along the track. Get behind that big boulder by the culvert." Henry followed tho suggestion and crouched uncomfortably in th mud of a ditch that a few hours before had boon carrying the water draining from the hillside.

He won dered what he would do if the killer decided to come out, shooting. The mly weapon Henry had was his ightly umbrella. Jones, feet across the tracks, 'nrricd on a social conversation as hough he wore on a pleasure hike. "So this is the ill-fated railroad vhose stock Ives and King unload- on the unsuspecting public?" "I never held it against them," aid Henry hastily. "Especially not igainst Ives.

I'm sure he didn't enow the company was going to "I wouldn't be too vehement in my protests if I were you," Jones him coldly. "It's natural for you to harbor some resentment, at east, against a man who caused you to lose $500. To protest that you don't, might make a person think your resentment was a guilty resentment that perhaps you know more about Ives' death than you ought to!" "You mean "Come now, why not admit it? You didn't like Ives. You're glad lie's dead." "I won't admit any such thing! I hardly knew the man, except by sight. I thought he was queer, but I didn't dislike him." "Hm'm." Jones fell silent.

Henry's eyes shifted from the tunnel to the darkening sky. It was going to rain again. The black, twisted limbs of a dead tree on the summit seemed to beckon to the oncoming storm. Tips of the laurel trees in the canyon were beginning to bend in a current of air from the south. "What about this Marcia Wensley?" Jones asked suddenly.

"I understand she used to work for Ives and King." believe, she did. I'd forgotten. It.was years.ago. She was a sort of private, secretary." "Must be older than she looks. I suppose a little paint and powder "Why do you menti6n her? You don't think she "She was one of those at the meeting of the model railroad club Wednesday night.

It wasn't impossible for a woman to have killed Ives. And I suppose, living near the hills as she does, it would not be unnatural for Miss Wensley to go hunting for rabbits once in a while with a small caliber rifle, such as the one used in killing Professor Bisbee." seen her hunting. She always was a sort of a tomboy. Bui you don't think it's Marcia'there in the tunnel?" Henry was horrified. "I hope not.

I hope we're al wrong about it being I know by now that we can't be." "Oh, so you were hoping al along that Bisbee was was suicide? Was that your Henry's boarder didn't answer. Ic held up a hand for silence. "Listen!" Above the murmur of the wind the trees came the sound of an approaching automobile. It rounded the bend of the railroad right- of-way a moment later, straddling one of the rails and bumping OV.T ties. It headed straight for the tunnel.

One of the two men in the front seat was poking an automatic rifle around the end of the bullet-proof windshield. The deputy who had sent out the call by radio came back down the trail about the same time and retrieved his gun. "Okay, boys," he said. "Turn that spotlight into the tunnel!" The car c-lowed down, rolling past Henry no faster'than a man would walk. The big spotlight, which the driver swung from side to side, illuminated the walls of the tunnel ahead.

The deputy on foot jumped onto the running board. John Jones followed behind the car, and Henry, not to be left out, did likewise. The car was a shield. As they stumbled over the ties under the big timbered arch Henry noticed the change in weather. He had been crouching in a wet drizzle for five minutes without knowing it.

"No one here!" announced the driver. The car stopped, Henry and John Jones stepped to one side and looked ahead. A mass of fallen rocks and timbers blocked the tunnel from track to roof. we're false alarms," observed the man' at 'the spotlight cheerfully. have needed'us bad if there'd 'been anyone here.

Wanta ride baek with us?" The disappointed Jones looked out at the tunnel mouth behind them. Rain was falling hard now. "Might as well," he accepted. "We won't accomplish anything hunting for someone who's been gone a half hour." They and the extra deputy climbed into the rear seat. The car had to be driven in reverse, as there was no way to get out from between the rails.

The driver grinned at them as he sat sideways, one hand on the steering wheel behind him. "By the way, the sheriff's office got a call from Miss Wensley a few minutes ago," he said. "She was worried about Professor Bisbee. Said he was supposed to see her this morning, and didn't show up. I thought you might like to know." (To Be Continued) Business Wise Advertise 'UNA, AT A LUChY MOMENT CATCHE5 JOAN'S EYE AND 15 RECOGNIZED DESERTED LEVEL OF THE UNDERGROUND CITY THE PRINCESS TETRA FINDS HERSELF A PRISONER SLEEPY cLines our OF AHO WT5 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE HENRY FELT Jones stiffen beside him.

"My Lord!" gasped the big man. "Just what you and I were talking 'about, Potter. Miss Wensley is mixed up in this!" "But why would she call the sheriff's office?" objected the second deputy in the front seat of the car. Henry came more vehemently to the young woman's defense. "If you mean to say Marcia lured Professor Bisbee to his death, you're crazy!" Jones reminded him, "We agreed that nothing except an appointment with someone would be likely to take the professor along that trail so early in the morning." "An appointment in the hills? Why would Marcia want to meet him there? I don't believe she did!" "We have her own she was waiting for him." Henry had no answer.

He was bewildered. The car, backing down the railroad track, came to a road crossing and was able to bounce out from between the rails. The driver turned the powerful sedan around and headed up the road. "Shall we take you home, Mr. Potter?" "Maybe it's not my business," said John Jones, "but I'd like to talk with Marcia Wensley.

Take us to her place." The driver nodded. "Okay. It's your funeral. Don't blame the sheriff's office if you put your foot into it. I've known Marcia a long time.

Crime isn't in her makeup." Jtohn Jones' jaw was ly he wasn't going to take the word of any small town peace officers against his own judgment. The rain was coming down harder. The driver set the windshield wiper to working. The road curled up over the top of a hill and down toward the village. The tires slid in the mud, but the deputy sheriff kept the big car skillfully in the wheel tracks.

"Miss Wensley lives in a little house at the end of Oak street," said the third deputy, the one who had sent the radio call. "Take the next left turn, Pete." The car came to a stop in front of a small white house behind a white picket fence. Henry and Jones climbed out, under Henry's umbrella. A moment later the car left, and Jones was pushing open the neat little gate. Henry, close beside him to hold the umbrella over Jones' head, wondered apprehensively what excuse his boarder was going to use for this strange visit.

Who was Jones, anyway The question still bothered Henry. Why was this big man from the city so interested in the death of John now of Professor Bisbee On the trellised porch Henry lowered and folded his umbrella, and leaned it against the wall of the house. Marcia, in a severely plain gray house dress, opened the door for them. Her lips, bare of their usual makeup, parted in surprise. "Oh, I thought it was the milkman." "I don't blame you," agreed Jones with a disarming smile.

She seemed in doubt as to the proper etiquette. "W-won't you come in?" "Thank you," said Jonea. He crossed the threshold as she stepped back. Her eyes were wide. Mentally Henry noted that they were tired eyes.

Wrinkles creased the corners. This was the real the one who attended the railroad club meetings. Before many years she would be classed as "an old maid." Marcia read the pity in his eyes and misinterpreted it. Her face paled still further. "Is something wrong?" "You telephoned the sheriff's office about Professor Bisbee?" Jones asked as he stepped into the living room.

His hat was off, but he did not sit down. He seemed to realize he was wet and muddy, and the room had been scrubbed and dusted. "Yes," she.answered breathlessly. "Has anything happened to him?" "Pon't you kitow That is, 'didn't they tell you?" "They told me not to wait any longer. Have they arrested Him again?" "He's been murdered!" "Oh-h!" The last blood drained from her cheeks.

One hand fluttered to her throat. Her eyelids closed and she started to fall. Henry grasped her arm to support her. Jones' face suddenly clouded with remorse. Not even he could doubt that her distress was the report of the professor's death was a shock.

They eased her into a chair. She drew a deep breath and part of the color flowed back into her cheeks. "Oh, how awful!" she gasped. "Poor Professor Bisbee! What did he ever do that anyone would want to kill him?" Henry begged her not to take it so hard. When she had recovered somewhat, Jones explained, "He was on his way to see you it happened.

Tnat was wny we came to see if you knew of any explana-, tion. Why did you want to see fessor Bisbee in the hills at 6i o'clock in the morning?" She looked at him, startled. he was coming to see me, here, at 7 o'clock." Jones frowned. "Then what was he doing in the hills at six?" "I'm sure I don't know." couldn't have misunderstood?" "I don't see how. I telephoned Mrs.

Bisbee this jnorning and asked her to give the message to her husband. I had to see was dreadfully It makes no difference now!" She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. "Why did you have to see him?" She shook her head without looking up. "I can't tell you!" Jones was undecided. The woman was in tears.

Henry nudged hla companion toward the door, and suggested. "How about Mrs. Bia- bee?" Jones nodded. "Good idea. Please forgive us, Miss Wensley." She stood in the doorway looking after them as they went out the gate.

Henry turned and looked back from under the umbrella. He tried to smile. It was a failure, and she did not respond. "I must have been wrong," Jones admitted. "Women may be actresses, but not that clever.

She didn't know Bisbee was dead." Henry feared they would find Mrs. Bisbee in hysterics. The front door of the Bisbee home Qpten. A thern in thj9 and'JJehry's worst'-fears were layed. "Thank goodness someone has, come!" said the woman.

"Stay with her while I brew a pot of tea." Mrs. Bisbee was seated in a big armchair in the parlor. She was a small woman, and she seemed suddenly to be shrunken still more. Stark tragedy lay in her eyes. Her gray face did not change expression.

"Mrs. Bisbee," began Jones gently, "I can't tell you how sorry 1 am. You do not know me, but 1 understand, your grief. I want to see justice done "Then find the man who telephoned!" "Man? I thought Miss Wena- ley "A few minutes later a man telephoned. I didn't recognize the voice.

He wanted my husband tc meet him right away, on the old tunnel road. Oh, my God! Whj would anyone do it? Why? (To Be Continued) AND ONCE ASAIN UNA ADOPTS ANOTHER'S COSTUME. TETRA IS F6RCED TO AID THEIR PLAN OH, BOTHERATION! TH5V THINU OUR PRISONER IS THE QN6 THAT IS WHAT A A CROWD IS FOLLOWING usi.