Judge — August 23, 1930 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

| ia} i Ve ia HS i) iH a | Ha | | | HA) Fall Through Masterpieces — Earn Big Money ! By S. J. Perelman I you happened to be peeping through the paper last Friday—I myself was, even if it was pasted over a keyhole and I got a nasty push in the pan for doing it—you certainly must have rubbed your hands with glee. There it was on the front page, as large as life: “Falling Cleaner Butts Hole in Stuart Canvas. Like a clown JUDGE through a paper hoop, a porter clean- ing the picture gallery of the New York Public Library dashed headlong today through one of the finest Gil- bert Stuarts in America—the portrait of Mrs. Ann W, Haven, The cleaner did not intend to take his dive, it com- ing after he slipped from a ladder and fell against the masterpi Offi are withholding the name of the man figuring in the ident and say that there will be no action taken, as it was purely unavoic " Purely unavoidable, heh, heh, heh. POLKA DOT STATUE ID THE SNOOT! PRODDED THE ART PROFESSOR Next event on the card is a ten-round go between tio welterweight librarians, buttons off the goose-quills, and we promise you a simply SCREAMing time. “You a champ for two cents I’d knock your block off! Sailor Schwartz. That would look like a big purse to you!” Thro ” puffed a pug. “Say, fish-face, “Yeh, you little heel,” sneered in the sponge, Sammy, my man cut his finger on a dirty word in the glossary! 4 Let me tell you something, Messieurs the Officials of the New York Public ary—YOU should only have the ns that went into the planning of that little job. So you are withhold the name of the man figuring in the accident, hey, Officials? The aner did not intend to take his dive. 3 A pig's chin to you, Officials! Better you should be ¢ dows as guiding libraries, you eaves. you! Dr. Fu-Manchu snaps his. tin- gers at you—pouf! Two poufs! A whole carload of poufs! And not a single pouf more—you've been sinok- ing like a furnace as it is. Little did I reek last October when Mabs, my Japanese, stole in with his like tread and cushioned insteps to that awesome summons on my aning win at was going on in of Fu-Manchu, the Crime the Doctor. “Geneva—the twenty-third” 1. With steristic bravado he had signed it “Fu-Manchu” to throw the police off his trail. I had barely time to roll the messs into a ball and swal- low it when I felt a tap on my shoul- der. It was Cribbage of Scotland I presented my feet to him and »ped my st es, Cribbag gerous lint in my ey “Have you seen a message from Fu- Manchu around here?” he queried. Poor fool! He combed my rooms from head to foot, but he never thought of searching me. He was scarcely gone when I pressed a hidden r. My secretary, Jocelyn Pass- A t my elbow. Reserve the kitchen on the Maure- tania Tuesday,” came my voice in clipped with a little bit off over the “We leave at) mid- night.” : night, disguised as chefs, Jocelyn and I—Mabs was trav- ing as a suet pudding— ica’s shores fade. Seven day knocked at the door of Room X in the X Hotel at Geneva. The voice of the Master bade me enter. His suite was lavish with soft rugs, a big divan, a fireplace. I sank luxuriously into the were the sole words on the chars " T asked, a dan- fireplace and faced the Crim “You knew Operative 26 threw at me. “You mean——?" I threw back at him. “Exactly.” he threw back. “I or- dered him to Brussels yesterday to fall through a Rembrandt there. The bungling swine mistook my orders and fell through Rembrandt himself.” He paused and I shuddered, knowing that Fu-Manchu never forgave. “You will (Continued on page 27) comicbooks.com