Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 62, No. 2, October 3, 1931

Автор: Энгланд Джордж Аллан, Philips Judson P.
Год: 1931
Язык: английский
Год: The Red Star News Company
Жанр: Другие детективы

Электронная книга - «Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 62, No. 2, October 3, 1931». Краткое содержание книги:

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It is a known fact that in the movie settlements on the West Coast fortune tellers find a most fertile field. Cases are being reported to the Society of American Magicians constantly involving film players, and were the names to be made public movie goers would be shocked and amazed.

The author of these stories and Mulholland were talking recently about the broadcasting methods of seers, and the case of Miss Nolan came up. Mulholland stated that there were hundreds of such cases yearly, some worse, in which the victim actually lost all sense of judgment.

“The horoscope ‘racket’,” the magician stated, “is a most profitable source of revenue for the fakers. One astrologer of whom I am thinking, it may not be the one Miss Nolan heard, received over one hundred thousand letters in response to his radio ‘free reading’ offer. To all he sent the same letter referring to the one dollar horoscope book, with the dream book thrown in. Out of this one hundred thousand more than thirty-one thousand letters were received inclosing the dollar! Think of it, thirty per cent of his listeners fell for the proposition!

“The horoscopes for which he gets a dollar cost him in Chicago, at a fortune tellers’ supply house, the huge sum of three cents each. The dream book costs but one cent. As the one who asks for the ‘free reading’ must inclose a self-addressed envelope, it costs nothing for addressing or mailing the dollar offer. The mailing of the dream book and horoscope costs three cents. So for the dollar he receives he has only seven cents expenses. It’s a nice business!

“I saw in this Chicago supply house a list of one thousand fortune tellers who use from fifty to one hundred thousand horoscopes regularly. This dealer handles so-called occult literature and apparatus. Here I learned that fashions in fortune telling change like fashions in hats, but the principle of it all is just the same — ‘Kid the public and get the money.’

“Some clients demand the involved, pseudo-astronomical phraseology of the astrologer, or the pseudo-mathematics and fantastic palaver about ‘name vibrations’ of the numerologist. Others are satisfied with just a lot of blah from the seer. But whatever method is used, the ‘predictions’ are the same bunk, just plain bunk, and many times cause death, misery and poverty!”

Dumb

by John L. Tiernan

Schuyler Didn’t Really Expect His Partner to Hit Him With an Ax, Even if He Had Tried to Steal $1,000,000

Schuyler was just about ready to leave. He gazed across the room admiringly at the pigskin bag. It was a good-looking bag — neat, but not gaudy. And it was built along lines that gave it the pleasant illusion of bulging. Of course it wasn’t actually bulging. But there was plenty in the bag — plenty of good old United States currency. There was more than a million dollars that Schuyler and his partners had taken away from shop girls, clerks, soda jerkers, garage workers, saps in all walks of life.

Schuyler thought of his partners — and he grinned. He had to admit that it was going to be kind of tough on them. That is, the shock of it would be tough — at first. But men as smart as Pope and Talbott shouldn’t remain broke for long. Their ideas were too good.

Schuyler looked down at the elaborately engraved ticket on his desk. It was salmon-colored — a beautiful thing. Schuyler’s lips twisted as he read:

ROYAL CALEDONIAN SWEEPSTAKES, LTD.

ONE MILLION POUNDS STERLING PRICE PER TICKET — ONE POUND

Schuyler read the ticket slowly. Then he inspected the engraving on the back. Then he chuckled.

“I might have bought one myself,” he said.

He fanned himself with the ticket for a moment. It was very hot — much too hot for comfort. Outside, the streets of New York were baking. But it wouldn’t be long before Schuyler would be far away from all this heat — out on the ocean, bound for South America.

Schuyler suddenly thought that it would be only fitting that he should leave a note. He examined his watch — still a few minutes left. He took out his pen and selecting a piece of expensive stationery from a drawer, wrote rapidly for a moment:

Dear Pope:

Sorry, but I have found it necessary to leave town. My absence may cause you some financial embarrassment. But cheer up. Here’s a free ticket on the Caledonian Sweepstakes. You might win it.

Schuyler studied the letter. He found it very funny. And he knew how funny Pope would find the idea of himself, or anybody else for that matter, winning the Caledonian Sweepstakes.

Schuyler sealed the note with the ticket and placed it in a prominent position on Pope’s desk — where he was certain to find it the first thing Monday morning. Schuyler knew it was going to be a shock to Pope — and to Talbott, too.

But he would be a long way off, on Monday.

He glanced at his watch. Twenty to twelve — half an hour to boat time. It was time to leave — to fade out. He listened and he could hear the typewriter clicking in the front office. He decided to say good-by to the stenographer — the dumb one. Even dumb stenographers got suspicious at times. And he didn’t want any suspicions today. He wanted to get a good start on Pope and on Talbott.

He pressed the buzzer on his desk and he composed himself while he waited the response. When Louise, the dumb girl called Louise, answered he looked very businesslike, very dignified.

He cleared his throat.

“Miss Long,” he said, “I’m off now for the week-end. To all callers I’ll be back Monday morning — bright and early.”

The girl nodded. Schuyler wondered if she were suspicious. She was awfully dumb, but sometimes even the dumb ones get suspicious. However, Schuyler wasn’t going to worry particularly about her. He wondered at times if she knew what it was all about. He liked them dumb.

“All right, sir,” said Louise.

She turned and closed the door behind her. Schuyler grinned. He had got away with that. He was in a hurry now. He grasped his imported Panama, strode across the room and picked up the pigskin bag. It gave him a thrill to lift that bag. It would give any one a thrill to lift a million dollars — in good old greenbacks.

Schuyler had to hurry. He was going directly to the pier and he was going to lock himself in his state room on the Empress Xenia, New York to Buenos Aires. He would emerge at sea as Dr. Jerome, pleasure-bound to the Argentine.

Schuyler was a pretty smart fellow. He thought so himself.

He walked toward the private doorway to the hall. He intended to duck out without again seeing the stenographer.

A man carrying a million dollars, a stolen million dollars, can look pretty suspicious — even to a dumb stenographer.

He was almost to the door, his hand was extended to grab the knob, when he stopped suddenly. There was a shadow outside the door. The shadow was Talbott’s. Schuyler quickly tiptoed back to his desk, took off his hat and sat down.

Schuyler waited, rigid, while Talbott let himself in with a key. Talbott looked very slick in a light herringbone suit — almost cool for a day of such terrific heat. He nodded to Schuyler, stared about the room searchingly with his cold gray eyes.

There was a tense moment which Schuyler wished had not occurred. He had to struggle to get control of himself. It was quite a shock — seeing Talbott.

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