Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

666 ticles on exhibit astounded him. There was everything in the collection from a wooden box containing fifty pounds of used United States postage stamps to a woman’s muskrat coat, men’s suits and overcoats, women’s coats and dresses, silk underclothing, automobile tires, patent medicines, stockings, gro- ceries, printing ink, sporting goods, toys, shoes, fertilizer. The list appeared endless; a glance through the catalogue showed there were over a thousand lots altogether. Back in Bridge Point, Walt Wilkin- son owned what was conceded to be the smartest men’s clothing store in the county, and his buying instinct told him that here, if he only had the money, he might pick up some quality shirts and neckties at bargain prices. But he didn’t have the money, and so he resolutely turned his back on the display and gave his attention to the auctioneer. That gentleman worked rapidly. There was no strenuous effort to force the bids up. One of the two men at the table read aloud the number of the lot under the gavel, stated what the lot contained, and then the auctioneer requested bids. When the bids ceased coming, the deal was made; there was no haranguing. The lots were disposed of at the rate of one or more per minute. The bidders, Walt observed, were for the most part of the city shop- keeper type, and half of them were Hebrews. Many of the men there were dressed carelessly, to put it mildly, and, to Walt’s amused eye, the ones who were dressed in the worst clothes and appeared far from solvent were the ones who calmly bid fifty and sixty and seventy dollars for various lots. Tired of standing, Walt moved closer to the benches, and before many minutes passed got a seat when one of the occupants departed. Joe had left his original place and now had a seat where he could lean back against one of the pillars that reached to the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ceiling. He looked comfortable, at peace with the world—and half asleep. Some fifteen minutes later the man next to Walt left, and a girl dropped into the place vacated. Walt paid her little attention until he glimpsed her prohle, and then he had to remember that it wasn’t polite to stare before he could look away. She was a pert, smartly dressed, ex- quisite little thing. Apparently she had just come in from the cold outer air, for her soft cheeks were glowing with color, and her eyes—they were a deep, deep brown, he discovered when he turned again and accidentally met her gaze—were sparkling. There were well dressed men and well dressed women in the room, but they did not appear out of place, and somehow, in Walt’s opinion, she did. He was wondering about her, trying to guess why she was there and who she might be, and almost ready to yield to the temptation to take another look, when she spoke to him. “Pardon me,” she said, “‘ but I won- der if you would be kind enough to loan me your catalogue for a moment? The man at the door was out of them when I came in.” Walt, hypnotized by his good fore tune and the musical cadence of her voice, could only smile and comply with the request. She seemed to find the booklet ex- tremely interesting, for she studied the pages closely for some time. When she returned it to him, with a smile—dim- ples, two lovely ones—Walt was ready. “ Odd, isn’t it, the variety of things that go through the mail?” he said. “ It would be hard to name something not on the list.” She agreed pleasantly. “ Odd things —an oddly mixed crowd, and—this is my first auction; and it’s all im- mensely interesting! Just what is the procedure?” Walt was only too glad to explain. “The lot number is called and brief- ly described,” he told her, “‘ and then Gomicbooks (E@)