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Updated: May 12, 2025
Literate service for this store is, accordingly, being discontinued, pending a decision by the Grand Council of the local Fraternity." Cardon grabbed the blue-and-orange clad man and dragged him to one side. "What happened, Hutschnecker?" he demanded. "They're walking out on us," Hutschnecker told him, unnecessarily. "The boss had a fight with Bayne; knocked him down a couple of times.
Hutschnecker," she told the white-haired man in the blue and orange business suit with whom she had been talking, and laid the printed price-schedule down, advancing to meet him. "Ralph!" she greeted him. "Frank Cardon told me you were coming.
"They're all outta small money in Notions; every son and his brother's been in there in the last hour to buy a pair of dollar shoestrings with a grand-note." "I'll take care of that," Hutschnecker said. "Wait till I call control tower, and tell them about the fireworks." "How much does Mrs. H. Armytage Zydanowycz want credit for?" Prestonby asked.
The Literates' Guards officer broke the connection. "You heard that?" he asked, turning to the others in the office. "If we can hold out till they get here, we're all right. Did you contact Radical-Socialist headquarters, yet, Hutschnecker?" "Yes. I talked to a fellow named Yingling.
"They never help anybody who has a private police force; they have too much to do protecting John Q. Citizen. Hutschnecker; suppose you call Radical-Socialist campaign headquarters; tell them to rush some of their Lone Rangers around here "
Hutschnecker, called to the telephone, spoke briefly, listened for a while, spoke again in hearty thanks, and hung up. "Macy & Gimbel's," he told Prestonby. "They heard about our trouble probably one of their price-spotters phoned in about it and they're offering to send twenty of their store-cops to help us out. They'll be landing on our stage in eight minutes, rifles and steel helmets."
The man Hutschnecker, Prestonby remembered hearing Claire call him nodded. "That might be all right. We could cover the cases with tarpaulins." A buzzer drew one of the Illiterates to a handphone. He listened for a moment, and turned. "Hey, there's a Mrs. H. Armytage Zydanowycz down in Furs; she wants to buy one of those mutated-mink coats, and she's only got half a million bucks with her.
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