The Golden Age of Pulp Fiction MEGAPACK ™, Vol. 1: George Allan England. George Allan England

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СКАЧАТЬ play, from now on? You’d sure be some Classy pal for me! Any time you want to frame up with me, working Double harness, I’m your Pippin. Can’t you see me, Dovey? If we hitch, I know we can give the Census and the course of Human events a right Sassy push, all right, so don’t Shy off. But be my Molasses Bunch, till death us do pry Apart!

      All I ask is your Heart and hand, and a Continuation of the swell Eats, as per this last month.

      Ben started suddenly, with a quick glance at Pod, but the latter was far too absorbed in his reading to notice anything.

      No use for you to be a side stem in this Hashery, when you can be the main tent in a Cottage with Ivory—Ivy—round the door. Shed that apron, kid, and I’ll show you the real silks, cut on the Bias, with fringe and doll-fixings all from Paris. Get me? Cut out the tay-ta-tay confabs with that fresh new Night clerk, same as I’ve been wise to, the past Week, and ac­cept a Loving heart that beats only for you.

      Ben leaned forward, his face darken­ing, fist clenched, and eyes staring. His mouth was set in a thin line. Pod blissfully pursued the letter.

      Your blue lamps and hair and the Way you Double up on the rice pudding have won my heart, Baby. The coin I’ve staked you to, for that stock-game, and the eats-money I’ve slipped you, is only a taste be­side what I’ll slide your way when we’re Hitched, So say the word, and—

      The letter was never finished, for with a wordless cry Ben started up. His fist fell on the table with a bang. The dishes rattled. A cup fell crash­ing to the floor.

      Pod, startled, dropped the letter and stared, wide-eyed.

      “Wh— wh— why, what th—” he stammered blankly.

      “You—you!” hissed Ben, shaking a passionate forefinger right under Pod’s nose. “So that’s your game, is it, you scab? Rat! You—I—”

      “For Gawd’s sake, Ben!”

      “Copping my girl right under my very eyes, you sneak!”

      “Your—your—”

      “Yes, mine! For three weeks now—”

      “But—first thing we blew in here, Ben, I slid her a V! Every week since, another one! An’ I’ve slipped her coin for a stock-deal she’s in—an’ these here classy feeds she sends up are all for me, an’ she’s mine—”

      “Ah-ha! So, eh?” Ben’s fist shook violently in the huge fellow’s astonished face. “So? But we’ll see about that, we’ll see! These feeds are for you, are they? Why, you poor boob, they’re mine! Ten a week she’s had from me—ten bucks per, you tum­ble? An’ as for the deal in stocks—”

      “You been touched, too?”

      “Have I? Why, sure! But—I didn’t know you—you—had! Why—er—see here, Pod—”

      “Huh?”

      Ben’s fist fell, and over his pale face a strange expression passed. His eyes sought Pod’s, and for the space of ten heartbeats their looks met in silence.

      At last Ben spoke:

      “Pod!”

      “Ben?”

      “Whoa, back! Back up, both of us!”

      “You mean—”

      Pod was leaning forward now, grip­ping the table-edge with a fat though powerful hand. On his brow the sweat had started thicker than ever, and his breath was coming hard.

      “Ben, you mean we—we’re in wrong?”

      “Wrong—dead wrong, so help me! There’s more behind all this soft-soap biz and all this swell night-lunch racket than we’re wise to yet.

      “Pod, we’re being played against each other, both ends toward the mid­dle! A skirt is trying to do the oceana roll over us and con each of us into thinking we’re it!

      “I had it all doped to land solid with Birdy two or three weeks ago. So did you. Each of us has been pass­ing the gilt to her—”

      “Don’t, Ben—don’t!” Pod’s eyes were leaking and he stretched out an imploring hand. “I’m wise a plenty, so cut that explanation stuff! But—it hurts, Ben; hurts like—jus’ same; when I had it all doped I was goin’ to bust into married bliss—ivy round the door—”

      “No more o’ that now! We’re both leery, now we’ve got a peek at the works. Just a throw-off she was steering us, Pod—that’s all. How big a haymow of the green has she raked off you already?”

      “Oh, maybe four, five hundred—on Consolidated Copper. She said her cousin in Wall Street—”

      “I’m in for a thousand. Only it was her uncle!”

      “Ben! An’ we, we are—supposed to be—the smoothest con-workers in the U. S. A. or out!”

      Bender stared a moment, then burst into a laugh of mingled bitterness and relief.

      “My feed I thought it was all the time!” he cried. “You thought it was yours. Both wrong—just as wrong as in our size-up of Birdy and her affections. Who’s nuts now? Pod, Bender & Co.! And the an­swer is—”

      Pod Slattery arose, with all the dig­nity of his three hundred and fifty-seven pounds, and faced his old-time pal. In his eyes still gleamed the dew of heartfelt disappointment, but his lips were smiling as he spoke.

      “Ben, old boss,” said he, “the answer is, a new deal and reorganization of the film on a long lease Birdy’s. smooth O. K.

      “We’ve let a skirt near trim us and if it gets out our rep ain’t worth a hoot in Tophet. She’s no ordinary poke-getter or cold hand worker, Birdy ain’t. No, this was no penny ante game she was up to, she was stakin’ to make a kill, what with all them kind woids an’—an’ juicy raisins an’ cream—

      “A classy hex, all right aimin’ to fetch down a big bundle when she had us hog tied right. In a while longer she’d had our whole roll an’ us spoutin’ our sparks for pad-money! Oh an onion, kid! But now we’re hep—an’ it’s one big hike for ours!”

      “ ‘Hike’!” echoed Ben enthusiastically. “The quicker, the sooner—far, far away!”

      “Pack your keister!” Pod directed dramatically, with a sweep of his arm. “This very night we flit! See her again after all them ivy visions? Nix! Us for the big getaway, P.D.Q!

      “I can’t pull much of this here sentimental stuff on friendship, kid, but you know what I mean.”

      “That time you dug me out o’ Sing Sing I ain’t passin’ up. No, nor the times we carried the banner in India, did a Marathon on the African veldt, dodged a smash in Yokohama, an’—an all the hundreds of other times, some velvet, some sand paper, we been through together.

      “What? Let a peek-a-boo and a hobble pry us apart? Nix not! We must ha’ been pipes, Ben, you an’ me, to even think it! All over kid! It’s you an’ me again, СКАЧАТЬ