The Dragon’s Teeth Read Online Free PDF

lull the suspicions of even a Hollywood landlady, checked out and, carrying one ragged handbag, walked to the Argyle Avenue address.
    It was a stucco rooming house which had long since burst its seams—discolored, down at the heel, one of? row of similar dreary, dowdy dwellings.
    Beau began to feel like Santa Claus.
    He rang the front doorbell and was admitted by a shapeless woman wearing an ancient dinner-gown and carpet-slippers.
    â€œI want a room,” he said.
    â€œExtra?” She looked him over without friendliness.
    â€œI’m looking for a job in the movies,” Beau admitted.
    â€œSix dollars in advance. Your own soap and towels.” The landlady did not stir until he let her inspect the bulging interior of his wallet. “Oh, new in town. Well, I’ll show you what I got. Throw parties?”
    â€œI don’t know anyone in Hollywood,” said Beau.
    â€œWith that roll, you’ll know plenty soon enough.”
    â€œI’m respectable, if that’s what you mean, beautiful,” grinned Beau.
    â€œSee you don’t forget it. I run a decent house. Name?”
    â€œQueen. Ellery Queen.”
    She shrugged and shuffled upstairs. Beau was very critical of the rooms she indifferently displayed. He watched the little cardboard name-plates on the doors. When he saw one that said: KERRIE LAND — VIOLET DAY, he chose the nearest room on the same floor, paid a week’s rent in advance, and then settled down to await the return of Cadmus Cole’s niece.
    THAT night he stole into the dark bedroom shared by Kerrie “Land” and Violet Day and callously explored it.
    It was a mean room, like his own: a rickety dressing table covered by a cheap linen runner smeared in one corner with lipstick and powder; an open closet hung with a faded calico curtain, and inside dozens of flimsy wire hangers; a lame bureau; walls hung with unframed 8 x 10 “still” photographs of Kerrie and a grim blonde with long shanks and an air of world-weariness; two low, lumpy, iron beds.
    One bed exhaled strong perfume: Violet Day, Beau decided unchivalrously. The other gave out a sweet, clean odor—obviously Kerrie’s.
    Poor kid.
    Beau mumbled angrily to himself. Getting soft about a perky little brunette with delusions of stardom and come-hither eyes! Why, she stood in line for more dough than he’d see in his whole lifetime!
    And he began to look forward to his first sight of Kerrie Shawn with a fierce, insatiable excitement.
    He saw her four days later. He heard a taxi pull up outside, a merry voice, light footsteps. Instantly he was out of his room and at the head of the stairs, his heart racing.
    The tall grim blonde appeared downstairs, handling two huge pieces of luggage like a stevedore. She was followed by the brunette, who was laughing as she lugged a suitcase. And suddenly there was warmth and happiness in those dingy halls.
    â€œCome on, Vi!” cried Kerrie, flying up the stairs.
    At the top there was Beau, staring.
    â€œOh,” said Kerrie, bumping into him in the semi-darkness. “Hello!”
    â€œYourself.”
    â€œYou’re new, aren’t you?”
    â€œAbsolutely reborn!”
    â€œWhat? Vi, it’s a funny man! My name’s Kerrie Sh—I mean, Kerrie Land. This is my roomie, Violet Day.”
    â€œDo. Queen. Ellery Queen.” Beau stared and stared.
    â€œIt talks,” said the blonde, peering at him. “Next thing you know it’ll touch you for five bucks. Kerrie, come on. My feet are yelling bloody murder.”
    â€œIt’s nice, though,” said Kerrie, smiling at him. “What lovely hair, Vi! Looks like Bob Taylor, don’t you think?” And they left Beau grinning in the gloom.
    Ten minutes later he rapped on their door.
    â€œCome in!” called Kerrie.
    She was in a house-coat. Red flowers and a zipper. Her small feet were bare. Tousled hair—nice. The suitcase lay open on the