The Shadow 308 The Seven Deadly Arts by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1946-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

“Sure, set it aside. Like I keep tellin’ ya, money don’t mean that,” he snapped his fingers, “to me!”

A few more steps led even closer to the partly open door. Cranston pretended to squint his eyes when he looked at some of the nicer statues.

“What

junk you got.”

Proudhon kept up a constant running stream of chatter. He knew that probably never again would his Gallery hold a fool like this one. A fool and his money. Proudhon hoped to be the one to part the fool and the money. He pointed to something that more closely represented an automobile radiator cap than any thing else and said, “Does this appeal to you, sir?”

It did because it was another step towards the door. Cranston was getting real enjoyment out of the farce he was enacting. He could see the greedy thoughts going through the dealer’s mind. He pretended interest in the radiator

cap.

“Not bad, nice and shiny. I kinda like that. That’s the tariff? How much?”

“A mere bagatelle.”

“Foreign money? I don’t have that. I’m strictly a U.S.A. boy.” Cranston pretended to be thinking deeply while he came closer to the door. “How many bagatelles make a dollar?”

The little man gasped. Such ignorance. It was, in a word, incredible.

However, he said, “Roughly, four thousand dollars.”

“Mmmmm… if that’s rough, how much smooth?”

“Let’s say, thirty-eight hundred?”

“Fine. Put it with the other junk. What’s this down here?” The game was at

an end. But Proudhon grasped his arm. Quickly looking up at a picture on the wall, Cranston said, “What’s the tab on that?”

Before the little man could answer, Cranston peeked in through the door.

In the center of the room was a real abomination. So bad that it made the other

stuff look good.

“Hey! Open the door. There’s a statue in there I go for!”

“Please, those things are not for sale.”

“Well, forget about that picture I was gonna buy.” Cranston set his jaw stubbornly.

“What was it that has taken your fancy?”

“The only pretty statue you got. No wonder you don’t want to sell it. But look, don’t forget, what I like I pay for.”

Proudhon almost but not quite scratched his head in bewilderment. “But what statue was it?”

Cranston elbowed his way by him and walked into the store room. He pointed

excitedly to the thing he had seen. It was brutal. Almost life size, it was somewhat like the statue of David by Michelangelo.

The difference was that this statue was a shiny, hideous chromium thing with a huge, ugly clock set in its belly.

Cranston pointed to it. “That’s a real beauty. With a hunk of stuff like that, my friends’ll eat their hearts out! Come on, cut it out. What do you want

for it? I’ll pay whatever you want.”

Proudhon looked miserable. You could see that he was dying to sell it, but

something was stopping him.

He wiped his forehead in agony of mixed feelings.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry… I can’t sell it to you. We have so many better things. This is just a novelty made on the other side. As a matter of fact, I think it was a

prop in some satirical movie about America.

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