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The Man Who Never Forgot – Ten Early Stories by C.S. Montanye
The Man Who Never Forgot – Ten Early Stories – Crime doesn’t pay, even if justice needs a little nudge from the fantastic now and then.
Book Details
Book Details
The Man Who Never Forgot – Six Early Stories by C.S. Montanye (1892-1948) explores the criminal mind. But crime doesn’t pay, even if justice needs a little nudge from the fantastic now and then.
White as Snow was published in Detective Story, February 18, 1919.
Thieves Three was published in Detective Story, April 1, 1919.
Hoodwinked was published in Detective Story, April 30 1919.
Told in Glass was published in Black Mask, November 1920.
Planned by the Stars was published in Black Mask, September 1920.
The Man Who Never Forgot was published in Detective Story, December 17, 1919.
One Chance in a Thousand was published in Detective Story, July 1, 1919.
Red Beads was published in Detective Story, July 22, 1919.
Prey was published in Detective Story, October 28, 1919.
Williams Steals a Wallet was published in Detective Story, June 3, 1919.
Carlton Stevens (C.S.) Montanye (1892-1948) was a hugely prolific writer of pulp fiction mysteries. He was published in a number of publications including Black Mask, Detective Story and Collier’s Weekly.
The Man Who Never Forgot – Early Stories has 1 illustration.
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- Montanye-The-Man-Who-Never-Forgot.epub
Read Excerpt
Excerpt: Thieves Three
THE girl first came under Red Rooney’s notice when she entered the bus somewhere uptown. But then he had not paid particular attention to her. He had merely noticed that she was more than ordinarily comely, that she was garbed in a modish suit and that there was about her an air of both breeding and refinement.
Red Rooney was quick to notice things. It was part of his business to be observing; he was a pickpocket by profession and his stock in trade consisted of a pair of keen, discriminating eyes and nervous, agile fingers.
When the bus invaded the uptown business section of the city, the dip for the first time began to take a decided interest in the girl. This interest was inspired by a quaintly-patterned beaded bag the girl carried. It was when she opened the bag that she first attracted Rooney’s attention. She delved into its depths, and produced a tiny powder puff, holding the bag elevated so that she might peer into a small mirror and dust her pretty nose.
As she performed, this delicate operation, Rooney, without moving, allowed his gaze to sweep over her shoulder and to focus on the interior of the beaded bag.
What he beheld caused quick thrills to surge through him. His eyes fell on a fat roll of money. The top note of the wad was engraved with three figures. Then, as the dip feasted his optics on it, the girl replaced her powder puff, and in doing so, shifted the contents of the bag, revealing the sparkle of a number of rings. Rooney felt his sensitive fingers twitching, as the girl snapped an emerald catch on the bag and dropped it to her silken lap.
In front of the new Hotel St. Charles she alighted. Rooney, twisting about, saw her enter its impressive entrance. At the block below, he too got off and hurried back to the hostelry. As he entered the lobby, he saw the girl vanishing into the Persian tea room.
The dip chuckled to himself, sauntering to the cigar counter where he purchased an expensive weed. In the Persian room were music and dancing. He always worked best where there were gaiety and people. Somehow he thought, these things inspired him to take chances and to escape, where under other circumstances he might hesitate. He had not the slightest doubt he would soon make the beaded bag his irrevocably. Red Rooney had great confidence in his own ability.
Then as he clipped the end from his cigar, lighted it, and took a step forward, he gave an imperceptible start. A man had entered the lobby of the St. Charles; a slim, well-dressed young man with a flower in his buttonhole. At sight of him, Rooney stepped behind a convenient pillar, with a muttered exclamation. He recognized the newcomer immediately. The man was no other than a well-known crook, known throughout the underworld as The Deacon. Moreover, The Deacon knew him well by sight and reputation.
The dip cursed softly as he saw the new arrival cross the lobby and enter the Persian room. Any attempt now to lift the beaded bag must be made under the eyes of The Deacon. And the crook had an unpleasant reputation for butting in on other people’s affairs.
After a moment, Rooney flicked the ash from his Havana and entered the room himself. The place was comfortably crowded. In a circle made by a ring of small, wicker tables, an animated throng danced to the strains of a Negro jazz orchestra. Rooney dropped into a chair at a vacant table and gave his order to a pacing waiter. He made a mental note that he could well afford to spend a little money in pleasure. Business had been good with him of late, and the pigskin wallet in his pocket was well tilled with crisp bank notes.
He let his gaze wander about the room. After an interval, he discovered the girl of the bus. She was seated in the extreme rear of the place and before her was a tall, frosty glass containing some iced beverage. She sat alone and had dropped the beaded bag to the table top where it glittered oddly under the garish glow of the smoke-obscured lights. At an adjoining table sat The Deacon, puffing a cigarette imperturbably, but Rooney saw that the man’s keen eyes were appraising both the girl and the bag.
Hot rage tingled within him. He had spotted the girl first, and had marked her for his own prey. To have the debonair Deacon intrude at the moment when the snatch was to be made filled him with both anger and dismay. His nails bit deep into the palms of his hands.
Excerpt From: C.S. Montanye. “The Man Who Never Forgot – Ten Early Stories.”
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