Black Mask (Vol. 22, No. 2 — Mary 1939)

Dear Jim:

I am writing you from San Diego now as you can probably tell by the fact that I’m using some of Youngblood’s bank stationery. Youngblood is an old crab. Why did you have to borrow money from him in the first place? I told him about Mary waiting for me at Laguna Beach, and he didn’t even hear me.

His daughter, Priscilla, has him sweating under his collar so bad that he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going. If I had my way about it, he’d be coming and I’d be going back to Mary, but Priscilla wants to marry some sailor on one of the battleships anchored down here in the harbor.

From what I can find out, this gob is an officer or something. At least he’s got a rank in the Navy, but old Crab-face won’t have anything to do with him. Crab-face says the guy’s got a rank all right, but that it smells like rotten barnacles off the bottom of his boat.

I haven’t seen the gob, so how can I tell? Anyway, my job is to drive Priscilla to her aunt’s place in San Francisco. Crab-face is sending her there to get her away from her Barnacle Bill, and he isn’t trusting her to go alone. He’s afraid she’ll elope with Barnacles and maybe raise a family of rowboats.

He says he’s going to break up the romance if he has to do it with an act of Congress getting Barnacles thrown in irons!

I can’t see why he’s so up in arms about it though, because I’ve known some pretty darn decent Navy men. I’m not arguing with Crab-face, though, to let love take its course. I want to get it over with and get back to Mary. Maybe I’ll stop in and see her on my drive to ’Frisco.

If you can’t read this letter, blame it on these damn bank pens. They’re worse than the ones you find in a post-office. I could do better with a paint brush.

Hurriedly,

Les.

P. S. Priscilla just came into the bank with her mother. I guess they aren’t letting the kid out of their sight. She’s some looker too! Priscilla, I mean. Not her mother. I don’t think I’ll stop in to see Mary like I said. You know how jealous she is. If she gets a look at Priscilla, the war would be on. I don’t even think we’d better let Mary know what my job is. I’ll write her and tell her I have to deliver some bonds or something, but I hope this Priscilla dame doesn’t give me any trouble on the trip. She’s got fire in her eyes — and how!