Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

the tawdry women wheeled suddenly anc stumbled into the dance hall, handkerchief to her eyes, sobbing hysterically. “Mother! Oh, Gawd, I can’t stand that!’ She pitched into a chair, head buried in her arms, her bare shoulders heav- ing convulsively. Sherrard jerked her to her feet. * Shut vour trap, Babe, an’ get t’ hell outa here!” He gave her a shove toward the rear. Harper joined the crowd. Another dance hall woman was sniffling. A great hairy brute of a man pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly, as men will when emotion clutches them. Even Harper, the hardened man-hunter, who wrote his mother as regularly as the stage traveled, felt a lump rise up in his throat as the sad-eyed girl in front con- tinued to utter one homely truism after an- other. Her conquest of her audience was as full and complete as though she were the greatest orator in America. ‘““ As I said, I didn’t come here to lecture on love, but to make money,” Alice went on. “ So here’s my proposition: Write your letters through me. No bother, no fuss with ink, pens, and paper. Sit down beside my desk and talk as though your loved one were beside you, easy and naturally, and every word that you utter will be typewrit- ten by me just as fast as you speak it. When you have finished, sign your name at the bottom, and the deed is done. I'll at- tend to the mailing; I’ll furnish envelopes and postage. That is my proposition, folks; a plain business offer. Fifty cents a page, double-spaced, is my charge—worth five hundred dollars, maybe, to the one who re- ceives it. That's all I’ve got to say. Op- erations begin right now; first come, first served; line forms on the right. All ready? Let’s go!” There was an outburst of applause as, with a smile, she backed into her tiny office and seated herself at her typewriter. A man hear the door entered and took the chair beside her desk. A line quickly formed. Harper did not join it, but he stepped to the office door to obtain a better view. The first. correspondent was gazing at the ceiling and speaking as though the per- lil His tongue clatte! but not too rapid for th recorded it direct on the machine degree of speed that stamped her ar The man wound up in a flurry of vor companied by a grandiloquent waving § hands, one of which just missed the ty cheek, and then he slowly read his literary” effort. “Holy mackerel!’ he exclaimed. ‘Who'd ’a’ thought letter-writing 1s as easy as that?” He signed his name and paid his money, throwing in an extra half dollar for a tip, then made way for the next in line. Harper moved back into the crowd of spectators who were not awaiting their turn and stood there, as pleased as a baseball fan whose team has won the world’s series. He overheard various comments: “ Great stuff!” ‘““ She ought to make money 4t it.”’ ‘Tl say the girl has nerve.” ‘* Just the same, she’d better watch out or Sherrard will get her.” The last remark prompted Harper to Step across to the dance hall and take a look inside. Only a few patrons were in the place. Sherrard’s scowl was an inch deep. Harper left and resumed his obser- vations outside. Suddenly a crash sounded in the letter- writer’s office and a shriek that was instant- ly muffled was heard above the blare of the Lone Star music. It motivated Jim Har- per as an electric flash sets off dynamite. Like a wild elephant he tore through the crowd, hurling men aside in his mad pro- gress, fighting, plunging, until he reached the place. Alice was gazing, wild-eyed, at her type- writer, which lay on the floor. Half a dozen men were holding a rat-faced indi- vidual who protested loudly that he had not meant to tip over the little table on which the machine had rested. Harper recognized him as a porter in Sherrard’s employ. noted tha, while tose type eae fous ee as out of commission i g, it was not broken beyond © ope of local repair, aa comicbooks.co piece