THE CHINA MAIL FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, JUNE 18, 1937
JACKPOT!
(Continued from Page 1)
“Ash a date!” the drunk croak- ed.
"Pipe down," said Pete.
Ida got up and walked a few steps toward Neal, who noticed something in her face he hadn't ever seen before. Something that flickered excruciatingly and went out. She regarded him gravely for a moment and then flung over her shoulder at Pete:
"Honest, I can't go out with you to-morrow, Pete. I got a date with Pneumonia here. Haven't I, Pneumonia ?"
Neal drew a deep, startled breath. "Oh," he gulped, “Oh, why no. I think you're mistaken. Why II already have a date for to-morrow night.
I"
Her eyes, now were full of cool, blonde scorn.
whose odds every 'child knew were impossibly against the player? As if he were a million- aire! And making $24 a week, not enough to live on properly, without slot machines! Why did he do it when he wouldn't think of betting two dollars on a horse race? When he even avoided the quarter machine? He told him- self and asked himself these been things-although he had through them before too.
* *
*
a
was
The clock behind the bar of the Bavarian
said: Village
6.04. Neal romped in jubilantly out of the frosty night. He raised hand in greeting to Pete, who stared back in some astonish- ment. Pete decided he drunk, but he wasn't. It was the letter in his inside coat pocket, He was su- perior to the slot machines now; he felt like waving a greeting to them too-from the magnanimous victor to the vanquished. He walked debonairly past the bar, scattering sawdust with his toes. He sat down at the end booth table, took the letter out to read it again.
burning his breast. She wheeled and
marched toward the back room. Neal noticed that her neck was bright pink beneath a tiny dagger of yellow hair. Her body moved in quick, proud little jerks.
Pete guffawed.
The slugs seemed to melt away now. He hit two once, but that was all. Before he knew it he had fed seven nickels out of the forty-five final cents in his pocket into the greedy slot. With his remaining dime he bought a fresh glass of beer and washed down Pete three hot dogs with it. stood back and watched him from Neal the bottoms of his eyes.. ate hurriedly, a bad ache of lone- liness, an icicle of futility in his heart.
He wouldn't have a pen- ny until Friday, unless he got an advance from Mr. Isaacs on his salary, and he didn't like to ask for that again.
Outside he found it was snow- ing hard. He didn't notice. Peo- ple turned to stare at his snow- powdered hair. He walked dog- gedly toward home, and as he walked he contrived an old dream once more. He amputated Ida from the Bavarian Village, re- moved the hard protective glitter of her speech, softened her into an immaculate and tractible glow. He separated her from her future and her past. When the opera- tion was complete he allowed himself the vague feeling of be- ing in love with her. But in the. process he got the warming cer- tainty that he could not possibly be in love with her the way she was outside his dream. He might be a sucker for slot machines but he had a pretty cool head where women were concerned.
He was safe there. Martha Leeds, from Needham, Mass., far off and long ago when she stood up before the parson with Faro Ferris in his checkered vest, had some bright, vital, careful blood for bequeath- ing too. Most of the time pulsed steady and strong in Neal's veins most of the time except for an hour at six o'clock.
ศ.
it
But that one hour was ruinous enough. This was Tuesday. He saw no prospect of acquiring a penny from any source until Fri- day afternoon. He did not tell himself what a fool he was, what a weak, improvident "nub. He had gone through all that before. He owed his landlady $12 back rent on a $6. room. She'd be tap- ping on his door to-night. He did tell himself that this was the last time. How could he feed his money into those idiotic machines
Ida's voice
"Order, please." was as chilly as a Bowery hall bedroom in January, as remote as June.
"A beer—if you don't mind.” "I don't mind." Her tone lick- ed tired irony at him.
She whisked off. He watched her in dismay. For a little he couldn't make up his mind what was responsible for the startling transformation in her. Then he saw. Beneath her white scallop- ed apron she wore a slinky black silk dress and from her ears swung tiny jade pendants; her child's mouth flamed in
a too- perfect bow, her silver dust of eyebrows were streaks of black. She was like a little girl, dressed absurdly to play grown-up, a caricature of a hundred tawdry movie heroines and a hundred. thousand sedulous youngsters, moving in Broadway and Four- teenth Street on Saturday after- noons. But Neal felt neither pity nor surprise-even while his heart bounced, beat hard and quieted; he felt only a faint relief at having escaped from any en-
It tanglement with her.
had been closer than he had realised. Thank Heaven for his good sense. He unfolded his letter and read it again:
VILLIERS AND PETERS, Attorneys at Law. 655 LaFitte Street, New Orleans, La.
Dear Mr. Ferris:
We are happy to inform you that your grandfather's estate has at last been settled.
Ween- close money order for thirty-two dollars and sixteen cents ($32.16), which represents your share in the net assets of the deceased, the late William, alias “Faro” Ferris, of New Orleans, La.
We have in our possession a release signed by the heirs of Lola Lefevre, relinquishing all claim to the estate of the said deceased; the heire of Jeaneatte, alias "Blondie” Bridges, Invali- dated any claims they might have had by failure to appear in the premises; Mrs. Fleur La Fleur, formerly of Cripple Creek, Wyo., died in 1929, at the age of 94, after a sixty-year fight to break
the will, and she left no heirs or legal assigns. The other and minor plaintiffs appeared to have withdrawn; therefore the court granted our petition for final par- tition of the assets.
In addition to the enclosed, there is standing in your name a plot of fifty acres of rather low riverfront land and farm house, which your grandfather won in a poker game in 1854. The title to this has been investigated and appears good. This land, about one hundred miles from New Or- leans, is capable of supporting human life, although even with improvements, we doubt that tenant could be found, due to its inaccessibility.
2
We enclose our final bill for five hundred ($500.) dollars.
Faithfully,
Herbert Peters,
· a
for VILLIERS AND PETERS. Neal leaned back and enjoyed the intoxication of riches. He was only half aware of Ida set- Ab- ting his beer before him. sently, plutocratically, he sipped it.
Louisiana, An estate in plantation! Even if he never saw it the sensation of squiredom was eonugh to compensate for a thousand small frustrations, for a thousand lemons leering from slot-machine windows, for the tier on tier of hats, big hats and little hats, light hats and dark, t w o-seventy-five-to-three-ninety-. eight, parading through his days. Before he knew it, he had begun to build his dream again: he had cut Ida out of the Bavarian Vil lage like a paper doll and plaster- ed her onto his farm-a musical-`
in gingham comedy milk-maid dress, delectable and gentle, spot- less as Heaven. Have I told you that Neal was twenty-one?
. He observed that several cus- tomers were standing at the bar.
7
One of them, unshaven, in a rag- géd coat, detached his foot from. the rail and went over to the end slot machine. He dropped a nic- kel in and pulled the lever. Neal listened indignantly to the clat ter of slugs into the cup. At least eight. Maybe twelve. The man scooped them out and rø- turned to the bar, where he im- mediately cashed them.
Neal rose. He had not intend- ed to play the machines at all to- night. He had told himself that it would add to his sense of triumph to sit near them without touching them, lifted up too high by the letter to bother. But that bum hitting eight-maybe twelve --the first time, and quitting, was
He too much.
got five slugs, positively all he was going to play, and attacked the middle machine. The first slug brought two cherries and a bell, four slugs rattling down. He was riding a high tide of luck to-night. Three
next- oranges in a row came eight nickels back. He worked the lever faster.
....
The clock said: 6.45. Neal did not understand how it was possi- ble that he had lost $6.50 out of his legacy. He counted the re- He mains of it incredulously. had never come in here with so. much money in his pocket before. He had never left. with any, and he wondered, frightened, whether - he was going to get away with any-to-night. Why, he had to keep this-money! He had debts. let that He couldn't afford to $6.50 go. With a bitter resent- ment of those plump, smug ma- chines in his heart, he said to Pete:
"Give me four quarter slugs." One hit of sixteen, two of eight quarters, would put him almost .. With his luck running (Continued on Page 8)
even.
“Equal to a
fine liqueur"
"I can tell
White Horse
blindfold! And to think that at one
time I used simply to ask for whisky-and-soda! White Horse is just like a fine liqueur!"
Sole Agents for S. China: JARDINE MATHESON & CO., LTD."'