Pulp Fiction, 1925 · page 39 of 168
Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 39: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1925. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
: GOTHAM, THE his last bill at breakfast that morning. He had merely noted that he had enough change to wiggle through the day econom- ically. After that, if he didn’t find a job to-day, he’d have to figure out a way to- morrow to finance -himself a little longer. Thereupon, being a young man who let to- morrow take care of itself, he had dismissed the subject. Now he was certain the little handful of change in his pocket wouldn’t pay even for this meager luncheon. He looked down the crowded restaurant. Their corner had seemed so secluded a moment before. Now it seemed like a raised platform in the center of a vast hall in which a million people had suddenly stopped eating to gaze at him. He imag- ined the scene when the waiter presented their check. “Will you excuse me a moment?” he exclaimed. “I forgot a telephone call I must make at once.” In a telephone booth in the lobby he took stock. Eighty-three cents! His Dill would be well over a dollar—perhaps two dollars. . This was an expensive restau- rant. Nice little situation, was it not? The more he thought about it, the more awk-. ward it seemed. And the hotter the tele- phone booth grew. His brain began to feel like his collar and just about as full of good ideas. * He opened the booth door for a breath of air, and with it’came an inspiration. A few feet away was the restaurant exit, and no one guarding it closely for the moment. Unnoted he slipped out to the street bare- headed. Around the corner and down to Nassau Street he hurried. There he paused, relieved to find no hue and cry behind him. The very ease with which he had stepped out a few yards and lost himself in this boiling human caldron made him shud- der. But, no, our knight errant was not cra- venly abandoning a lady in distress. In a few moments he had found what he sought —the three-ball sign of a pawnbroker, the only friendly symbol many a lone human mite ever finds in the big city. He had been gone less than ten minutes 3 A 3 GOAT-GETTER, when he returned to the table minus his wrist watch and plus twenty dollars. ‘So sorry,” he apologized. “ Had trou- ble locating my man. Now to get down te business again. Let me test your dicta-_ tion.” He gave her a pencil and the back of a letter and dictated rapidly a fanciful letter he had improvised on the way back from the pawnshop. She read her notes back to him perfectly without a stumble. “Fine! You’re hired, if terms are O. K. I'll start you at thirty dollars a week, and here’s fifteen dollars to bind the bargain. You can just write a receipt on the back of this envelope to make everything busi- nesslike. “Now, I can’t put you to work until a week from to-day. Probably you'll be glad of a little rest from job hunting. Your sal- ary begins now, of course—a little vacation in advance. “ Another indi you may think a bit odd. I haven’t any office address at pres- ent. I’m helping open a new business, and on account of certain rivals we’re keeping it dark till we start. I’d trust you with the facts, but I’ve agreed with my associates not to tell a soul outside the circle. ‘“‘ Meantime, here’s my residence address. If you want to look me up, see Mr. George Mersereau at Hallowell Brothers. Here’s his address. For the same reason I gave above, I can’t refer you to my old business associates, ‘““ Now, let me know where to find you, please, so I can drop you word where to come when we’re ready.” A little doubtfully she gave him the ad- | dress of the Y. W. C. A., and they parted immediately at the restaurant door. He turned and watched her hurry down the street. “Wonder what she thinks! Bet she’d have turned me down if she hadn’t needed that money the worst way. Gad, I’ve got my work cut out for me new! Got to make good with her. Got to get a job* for her this week somehow, whether I find any- | 2 = thing to do myself or not.” At least a hundred times a day during the next week he cursed fipouelt for aeb: 5 e 193 tong a <S ee aess Vy rate