Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 118 of 148
Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 118: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1955. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ee gee ee — A ee e nS s e ak J - - . > as, yy fe 116 The Third Part of CAPTAIN LIGHTFOOT x « by W. R. BURNETT « «x % APTAIN,” said Big Tom, “‘ you are being watched. There’s trouble; trouble in the back country, even in Dublin. Dragoons were stoned along the quays last night.”’ “What has that to do with me?’”’ Michael asked brusquely. * You’re a member of the ‘ Five Minus One,’ Captain. I’m a member, and the Castle has hired a new flock of spies, some from the Liverpool Irish. And that’s why I’m here to warn you. We have a rumour that Clagett has crossed over with a bravo of the name of Villona, a real murderous fellow .. .” ““ Clagett, is it? ’’ cried Michael, bristling, remembering Doher- ty’s words. “It’s only a rumour as yet,” said Big Tom, ‘“ but he’s the shrewdest and slipperiest of informers, and the Castle’s used him many times when the troubles got bad. He must have expected great difficulty or he wouldn’t have brought Villona with him. Villona would cut Clagett’s throat for a guinea or two. I’ve got ‘Tuer O’Brien and Willie the Goat searching the stews for word of - him. And now I must go. Good night, Captain.” It was only a few nights later, about eleven o’clock and raining very hard, when Michael was called to the card-room because of visitors. As he opened the door, a slim little dark-haired man raised himself up awkwardly from behind a table loaded with food. ‘** Brady! ”’ shouted Michael. ‘‘ What in heaven’s name.. .!” And he hurried round the table, grabbed the little man in his arms, and almost suffocated him with his embraces. Aloysius Brady, the quiet little harness-maker from Ballymoure! A solid man! Noticing an odd, sly expression on Brady’s face, he turned .. . and there, large as life, was his old friend, ‘Tim Keenan, grinning all over his loutish face, his straw-coloured hair on end as usual, and a good familiar smell of home-made Ballymoure whisky about him. comicloooks.comn