Pulp Fiction, 1920 · page 19 of 232
Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 19: what you’re looking at
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eo SS Se ae - “ae ee Meera CS . oars if s° Pi - « e x ° a ¢ — . aq J oa — HOW MANY CARDS? 301 was ushered in, the dead man’s panther they may have gone. However, Mrs. turned to McCarty. Creveling must be sent for at once! May “ Are you one of those in charge here? If so, for God’s sake, take me out of this I ask that you will arrange with the in- spector to have one of those men in there for a while! I can’t stand it! The dispatch a wire immediately to her in care shock—” : of Mrs. Douglas Waverly, Broadmead, “Come this way, sir. They'll call if Long Island?” you’re needed.” He drew the banker out ‘“ And what shall we say in the telegram, to the hall and into the breakfast-room, where he switched on the light once more and pulled forward a chair suggestively sir?” asked McCarty, as he prepared to comply. ‘“ You don’t want to tell her in cold blood that mer husband has been shot, with its back to the disordered supper table. do you?” ** Sit here, Mr. Alexander, and rest your- “Heavens, no!” The little man recoiled. self. I’m not connected with the police force, if that’s what you mean; I just happened by, and I’m a friend of the in- spector. It must have been a terrible shock to you, as you say, to find the house de- serted and Mr. Creveling killed like this!” “The abrupt summons over the tele- phone was startling enough, but to lose my partner in this hideous, tragic way!” The banker sank into the chair and pressed his delicate, blue-veined hands over his eyes for a moment. “TI think, sir, you said that Mrs. Creve- ling was your niece?”’ McCarty asked slyly. Mr. Alexander’s hands dropped and he _ gazed at the other in a dazed fashion. “Yes. She was my late brother’s only child, and my ward until her marriage to Eugene eight years ago. It will be a most —most distressing home coming for her. By Jove, we must wire her at once! I had forgotten—” “Mrs, Creveling is away?” McCarty’s ingenuous blue eyes opened still wider. ‘‘ That is why, then, that the house was all deserted.” He added the last as if to himself, but the dazed look faded partially from Mr. Alexander’s eyes and a shade as of caution crept into them. “Mrs. Creveling has been paying a round of visits on Long Island for the last few weeks and Mr. Creveling has been liv- ing much at the club since his presence was required almost constantly in town on this banking matter we were arranging to nego- tiate.’ His explanation came with' nerv- ous haste. ‘I believe two or three of the servants were left here temporarily as care- takers, though; I cannot imagine where ‘* Just explain that a serious accident has occurred and her immediate return is im- peratively necessary. to pull myself together! This horrible thing—”’ “TY understand, sir.” McCarty’s tone was full of respectful sympathy, but he paused with his hand on the door knob. ‘IT wonder, now, you knowing Mr. Creve- ling so well, if you’d remember whether or not he smoked his cigarettes with an amber mouthpiece?” “‘An amber mouthpiece?’ ”’ the other re- peated in unguarded surprise at the petty, irrelevant question. “No, he never used a holder of any sort. But the telegram—” “Tl see that it goes at once, Mr. Alex- ander.”” McCarty closed the door behind him, and when he entered the room where the medical examiner’s assistant was con- cluding his grim business the ex-rounds- man’s face did not betray by the flicker of an eyelash that he had stumbled on a clue, albeit a slender one. The inspector drew him aside at once. “ Creveling has been dead at least four hours,” he announced. “ The doc seems to think he shot himself, although he wants an autopsy for form’s sake, and it’s just as well. We'll let it go at that for a day or two anyway, till we’ve something to spring on the Old Man. Where’s Alexander?” ‘“‘ In the next room. He wants a telegram sent at once to Mrs. Creveling. It seems that she’s visiting a Mrs. Douglas Waverly at Broadmead, Long Island.” McCarty rapidly detailed the substance of his brief talk with Alexander and of the message to be sent and one of the detectives 3 I—I cannot think! | I confess that I find it almost impossible rigine | fr oMaG) Omnie io mz) NOO CO© mm HO TA T E J| NTVERS Y