Adventure Magazine Cover — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

The Sunshine Separator eye indicated a building in the distance over on Fourteenth Street, a block away. “It’s the wooden one, Reddy,” he whis- pered as they both peered up the street. ‘The one with the taxi in front of it, see? The guy’s on the top floor.” “I’m on,” returned the other bluntly. **Gimme that paper.” Spider handed him the order and men- tioned a rather important point. “You want to put him wise you come from the Simpson typewriter joint,” he cautioned, an indicating finger on the order. “*He’ll fall for it all right.” “What did yer say the bloke’s name was?” scowled Burns. Spider pointed out the signature. “‘That’s it on the bottom,” he said. ‘‘His name’s Smart.” Reddy folded the letter and pocketed it meditatively. ““Now listen,” he said authoritatively, pulling his hat a trifle lower over his eyes, “keep yer lamps on the door of that buildin’ and when yer see me come out get Johnson all ready to hustle. I won’t be gone ten minutes.” With another tug at his hat he started off, and Spider watched him from the doorway till he was lost in the crowd. He moved along slowly, a vigilant eye sweeping the sidewalks ahead for certain familiar figures attached to the Central Office whom he had no compelling desire to meet. But as he pursued his way his brain was actively alert to the job in hand. He was none too confident of the result and men- tally decided to proceed with caution. Spider’s optimistic views and ambitious ideas he was thoroughly familiar with and distrusted, and though there was no gain- saying the fact that the Ferret always landed on his feet, every member of the bunch looked warily askance at his novel methods. As he approached the building Reddy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and as he slipped cautiously into the entrance he threw one last searching glance up and down the thor- oughfare. A minute later found him on the fourth floor scanning the various signs along the corridor. The same open door at the end of the hall that had attracted Spider’s attention caught his eye,and he moved toward it with hesitating steps, trying to peer out the name in the distance. As he neared it, however, a large man of genial, expansive presence suddenly appeared on really delivered the message, eh?” “card. 805 the threshold in his shirt-sleeves, a cigar in his mouth, and his hands deep in his trousers pockets. He glanced at Reddy in an im: personal, half-inquiring way. ‘Looking for some one?”’ he asked in a helpful tone. ‘Lookin’ for Mr. Smart,” replied Reddy, with a startled glance. The man in the doorway removed his cigar deliberately from his mouth and ten- dered the speaker a long, quizzical stare. “Well,” he said finally, “‘I reckon you’ve struck the right shop, friend. What’s on your mind?”’ Reddy pulled his hat awkwardly down from over his ear. ‘‘The typewriter,” he said diffidently. ‘‘The boss sent me after it.’ He produced the order. The big man smiled enigmatically and, accepting the order, walked back into the room, chuckling softly. ‘“‘So Perry Goriott He surveyed Reddy critically from head to heel with a shrewd glance of amusement and, “Did you see him?” he inquired naively. Reddy shook his tousled head solemnly. “‘T didn’t see no one,” he replied stolidly. ‘Me boss gave me the letter.” Mr. Smart eyed him humorously. ‘‘Didn’t see him, eh?”’ he beamed. “Well, you missed it. Perry Goriott is worth seeing all right. He was in here this morning punching me to buy a set of Balzac,” he explained, ‘‘and offered to deliver this note. He’s a slick little book-agent, and talk—say! there’s a little man that could talk a Hindoo idol into making faces—he’d sell china eggs to a cigar-store Indian and collect the ac- count in advance! And you didn’t see Perry, eh? Well, he’s a hummer!” The Westerner blew a cloud of smoke into the air and surveyed Reddy with twinkling eyes. The latter shook his head with sober emphasis. ‘‘I didn’t see no book-agent,”’ he said sulkily, fumbling with his hat. “Well,” said the other regretfully, “you missed it, friend. It would have done you lots of good. It would do any young man good to meet Perry. He thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out Spider’s “T call him Perry Goriott,” he said apologetically, ‘‘but his real name is Alger- non Talbot Fairweather. How’s that for a name? Wouldn’t just the sound of that name buy diamonds at Tiffany’s without the price, brother, what?”’ He held the card COmiclbook CO