Pulp Fiction, 1920 · page 11 of 160
Argosy, Vol. 119, No. 2 — page 11: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1920. 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.
4 8 i eee ar or at ee ee ee ended IN ery Mie 7p. e ¢ » i Se ee ae eee te SVC eee URE celle ce ee ee ea RE ie baited, rei a A ee Nis Oh eo ae Ny se oe ee ee ee) Ee eo Ue ee ee Yh) 4 eee ea > ea ee Bb act thr ta eee Gye aet ae ee SON Sy | DOTS RA Pn A ° ¥ ‘ : ' : * bf Marguerite Curtis Felgar CHAPTER I. THE JAILBIRD. EANING forward against the steering- wheel of his wicked-looking roadster, Tony Fane heard the mysterious let- ter from the Scarlet Rider crackle in his pocket, an unneeded reminder of his pres- ence on Fifth Avenue at this time in the morning. By straining his eyes he could just see that the hands of the big clock outside the Golden Trust Company pointed ta six minutes after eleven. But it did not need any straining at all to see that there was a man standing be- neath the clock, straight as a sentinel, silent as the sphinx. If only his patience would hold out for a minute longer, ‘Tony thought, _ to give him time to get there! He glanced with unconcealed irritation at the traffic-cop so neediessly keeping him on the curb, and suddenly, seeing a path made in the line of vehicles by a machine that turned at the corner, he decided to dash for it. 3 : There was a shout, yells from the by- standers, and Tony knew that the chase had begun. But he didn’t care. He could see the man beneath the clock moving away, and there were still four blocks to go. If the Scarlet Rider was lost in the crowd there might never bé another chance to find him, and not for all the fines in the world would Tony miss him. With a sudden spurt he passed the clock which had been the place of rendezvous, and drew up with .a flourish just behind the slim figure of the man who had sauntered off at seven minutes after the hour. “Say,” he called in a friendly voice, ‘wait a minute, won’t you? I’m late, but just as soon as I’ve finished with the cop—”’ He turned with a grin toward the irate officer of the law. 3 Few could look into Tony Fane’s eyes when he was laughing, and not. laugh, too. But the policeman had his dignity to main- tain in the face of the curious crowd, and he stiffened rigidly. Tony’s hand went toward his pocket; he brought out a visit- ing-card. Reading it, the policeman unbent a trifle. He waved the crowd away. It was in a comparatively clear region that Tony made his explanation. 1 Arcosy 161 | “comicbooks