Pulp Fiction, 1938 · page 73 of 116
10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: "Second-Hand Suicide" This is a story prose page from a pulp fiction magazine, numbered 71. The page depicts a dramatic confrontation scene where a federal Secret Service agent named Halleran confronts criminals—including a man named Dogra and a police officer named Martin—over various cons and schemes involving counterfeit money. An illustration shows Halleran seated and confronting Dogra, who appears injured and fearful. The dialogue reveals Halleran's knowledge of their crimes and his determination to apprehend them, with the scene ending as Dogra begins to protest something, suggesting the narrative continues beyond this page.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
SECOND-HAND SUICIDE———————_—————71 side. “Oh, it’s you, huh?” he grunted. “Me and you—all the time, Dan,” murmured Lola snuggling closer. “You sure got me out of a tough spot.” | Taking her wrist, Halleran lifted her arm from his and dropped it by her side. ‘Now just a minute, Scat- terbrain. If I remember correctly I heard all your little speech through the door. Oh, yeah. You’re the pure, sweet flower who turned on the kid when he needed a pal most. Aw—go sit down before I forget I’ja a gentle- man!” . Lola sat down—fast. away. And if you hadn’t been so phoney through and through, you’d have given the kid a good twenty dol- lar bill to buy his new hat with. Yep, Mike, I spotted that counterfeit bill the minute Willy threw it on the table to me. Sure was a bonehead play on your part, Mike.” Martin straightened up. you’re a federal dick, eh?” “Right the first time, big boy. Meet Daniel Halleran, United States Secret Service. These two lads are my bud- dies. Shake hands all around.” “Well,” blustered Martin, “as a police officer I’ve got my rights—” “Then Halleran rubbed his hands to- gether, smiling at Dogra who looked ridiculously funny sitting on the fioor. “Well, Mike, you sure pulled a lot of phoney tricks on the kid, didn’t you? Every play you made was ' phoney. Yeah, every one!” All the occupants of the room were watching Dogra with a strange fas- cination. There was actually a light in those dull, dead-cod eyes of his. And that light was fear! His face turned from its chalky white to a dirty yel- low. His bleeding, shredded lips parted : “Y-You’re—a—” “Yep,” Halleran cut in. “I can see you get what I’m driving at right - Halleran looked at him. “You'll get my good right fist in the middle of your face if you don’t pipe down.” Martin piped down. “It was a long trail, Mike,” con- tinued Halleran, “but Uncle Sam doesn’t rush things. He can wait ten or twenty years to get the man he wants and go all over the world to do it. You can’t put anything over on ole Sammy. I’ve been wise to you for some time but could never catch you. Well, it’s all over but the shouting, Mike.” OGRA leaned forward, his face a horrible bloody mask. “No, you’re wrong, Halleran. It’s not all comicbooks Oo) Biss 4 WAN Y ) tte AY