Pulp Fiction, 1924 · page 169 of 172
Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 169: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1924. 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.
THE ORCHID. a maternal caress in a suddenly hushed voice. ‘Love me!” with shuddering ec- Stasy. The last patron tramped slowly down the stair — clump! — clump! — clump! — clump!—He was gone. One by one the waiters flitted behind a screen and did not return. Only one remained, watching. At length George sighed and slid awkwardly to the floor, breathing with stertorous gasps which presently ceased. The last waiter vanished. The silence soothed, and the distant reedy wail of some exotic instru- ment commanded the young to love while they were yet young. One by one the lan- terns hanging motionless from the ceiling ceased to glow, not naturally, but sudden- ly—Piff!—like that—without a flicker. One remained. Jewel drew away from Billy with a convulsive movement—held him at arm’s length. She smiled—strangely. “Oh!” he sighed happily. “‘ My—won- derful—girl! My — darling — sweetheart! My—lovely dream! Is it—true? Are you —real?”’ “‘ Aye,” she admitted, slowly. “ It’s— getting—dark—_ Let’s get out— The river— Searchlights on the clouds—” Her words were slow and monotonous; her blood was freezing with dread. “Yes,” he agreed eagerly. Keng over after George. drunk so early!” The single burning lantern went out on the name ‘‘Keng,” as though that had had something to do with it. Jewel held her breath, and her traitorous limbs refused to act for a moment, but nothing happened. Then suddenly her strength returned in the hour of her ex- treme need. She must get Billy out of that place! She guided him to the door and started him down the stairway, walking behind and to one side, with both her hands on his shoulders. Down they went steadily—to the door—which opened. She shoved him violently. ‘‘ Get out!” she choked; and she fell across him as he went to his knees when the door slammed behind them Two sergeants of the Royal West Surreys were twenty paces short of that door. By “Tl send Funny he got’ 519 the light reflected from where the search light fingers pried among the low clouds they saw the two bodies spewed out, and halted in sudden amazement, although Heaven knows the inhabitants of those parts should be surprised at nothing. They saw one get up and lean over the other for an instant and then launch itself © with a terrible cry at the heavy door. They closed in and grappled, trying to get the man to say what had happened, but he shouted meaningless incoherencies, and struggled so that they had no breath for soothing words. They fought in grim si- lence but for muttered directions to one an- other: ‘is feet, Bert! ’e’ll bash me gory nob in. Nahthen! O-oof! ’e’s off agyne! Ah-h!” Grunts—flat curses—thuds—clinking of steel boot-heels and military accouterments on brick—a loud rip—harsh breathing and some one spitting out blood and teeth. Then silence. Billy had collapsed, the last atom of his strength gone. He was numb all over —body, mind and soul. One of the sergeants had time to look at the other’s limp figure. ‘ Gah!” he ejacu- lated. “‘ Gawd! It’s Jool! Keng’s woman, Bert. Two knives in ’er back! Stroike me!” And then they went at Billy again, questioning, questioning, questioning. For the most part they got only meaningless mumbles, but little by little they learned enough to be able to surmise the remainder. ““W’y,” they told him, ‘she were only a= ‘“‘ Liars!” he screamed in their faces be- fore they could finish. So they tried no more of that. ‘‘ Give ’im time,” advised Bert sagely. “ It’s an ’ard thing t’ s’y w’en ’e only just met ’er, like. She were a remarkable looker, an’ this lad weren’t born in no slum.” ‘“‘ Aye,” agreed the other. ‘“ Tyke ‘im aw’y from ’ere—where’ll us tyke ’im?”’ ‘“‘ Arsk ’im w’ere ’e ’angs ’is ’at,” sug- gested Bert. Billy heard this and muttered: ‘‘ Keng’s.”’ “ Agh!” gasped Bert. ‘‘ Tyke ’im to my plyce. My missus—” Billy stopped dead in his tracks. “‘ Wait,” he said hoarsely, ‘“ I’m forgetting something. COMmiclooo SS (C@) nn