Brief description:
TULLY’S STRANGE BUSINESS.
MAJOR GENERAL JAMES W. MARSHALL, in command of the United States Army troops stationed in the Panama Canal Zone, sat back in his chair and puffed comfortably on his half-smoked cigar. The general was massive in build, hearty by nature and jovial of manner. His smooth hair was silver gray. His face was wide, intelligent, and possessed a slight red tinge. In it sparkled his two blue eyes, which peered upon the world through a glasses. The general wore the conventional. military evening dress of the tropics; a white monkey jacket, ornamented by a knot of gold at each shoulder; civilian starched shirt with bat wing collar and black tie; and black cloth trousers.
He sat in the center of a long, narrow table, prettily decorated with bowls of roses, at which approximately thirty people must have lately dined. Their vacant chairs surrounded the table upon which, at each place, were small coffee cups and liqueur glasses.
The general’s back was to the seaward railing of the balcony of the Union Club, Panama City. He was gazing with a little smile out upon thepaved floor, upon which the feet of many dancers were going "shuff-shuff" rhythmically. In a corner, a Panama orchestra was playing a sobbing " blues” number. The lights had been dimmed in favor of the moonlight, so that the several hundred dancers looked like so many shadows.
The general smiled at the man beside him; They were the only persons at the table. All the others were dancing. The man returned the general's smile.
“Nice party you’re giving, general,” he complimented.
General Marshall took another leisurely puff at his cigar. “Pretty good, Tully,” he nodded, “ for an old bachelor like myself, eh?”
Tully was an odd-looking character. He was dressed in civilian black. He was small in comparison with the general. There was about him the keen, quick, searching manner of the ferret. His beady black eyes were forever darting in and out among the dancers. His head was almost triangular in shape, the base being at the top, and the apex at his chin. He was completely bald, which gave his huge cranium a somewhat grotesque, and even terrifying appearance. His cheek bones were high above sunken cheeks. His mouth was small, thin; his chin bony.
“You know, Tully,” said the general good-naturedly, settling himself more comfortably in his chair, “ I hate to see you around.”
“Why, general?” asked Tully, raising his meager, gray eyebrows. His voice was dry, and not very strong. It gave the impression that it had not spoken with any great emotion for the past twenty years, or more. “We’ve known each other for a good many years, general, and have been good friends all that time, I hope."
“Yes," the general admitted. “All of that, Tully. But it's your blasted business! You never come around but what there are murders,killings, suicides, thievery, skullduggery, and whatnot. Just knowing you’re down here makes me nervous. I don’t know what to expect!”
Tully’s bright little eyes twinkled in his grayish face.“You don’t look nervous," he chafed dryly.
"Oh, but I am! Whenever you fellows in the Intelligence Dept come drifting around, there's something in the wind. What's up this time, Tully?
Tully raised his slender shoulders slightly. “Who can tell, general? You know how this business is. But I guess it’s nothing to be especially worried about. Washington just received information that there were some international spies seen down here, and so I was sent down to kind of nose around.”
General Marshall snorted. loudly. “You're, a damned spy yourself, Tully! I—”
TULLY’S eyes flashed momentarily, but his voice was soft. “You keep that to yourself, general. After all, it is something you know in your official capacity as commanding general of this department, and I might add, it is extremely confidential.”
Marshall removed the cigar from his mouth and patted “Tully reassuringly n the back.“You don’t have to tell me that, Tully! I’m not shouting it to the world, am I? There’s only you and me here. This silly spy business in peace time gets my goat anyway!” he frowned. “ It’s nasty enough in war.”....
MAJOR GENERAL JAMES W. MARSHALL, in command of the United States Army troops stationed in the Panama Canal Zone, sat back in his chair and puffed comfortably on his half-smoked cigar. The general was massive in build, hearty by nature and jovial of manner. His smooth hair was silver gray. His face was wide, intelligent, and possessed a slight red tinge. In it sparkled his two blue eyes, which peered upon the world through a glasses. The general wore the conventional. military evening dress of the tropics; a white monkey jacket, ornamented by a knot of gold at each shoulder; civilian starched shirt with bat wing collar and black tie; and black cloth trousers.
He sat in the center of a long, narrow table, prettily decorated with bowls of roses, at which approximately thirty people must have lately dined. Their vacant chairs surrounded the table upon which, at each place, were small coffee cups and liqueur glasses.
The general’s back was to the seaward railing of the balcony of the Union Club, Panama City. He was gazing with a little smile out upon thepaved floor, upon which the feet of many dancers were going "shuff-shuff" rhythmically. In a corner, a Panama orchestra was playing a sobbing " blues” number. The lights had been dimmed in favor of the moonlight, so that the several hundred dancers looked like so many shadows.
The general smiled at the man beside him; They were the only persons at the table. All the others were dancing. The man returned the general's smile.
“Nice party you’re giving, general,” he complimented.
General Marshall took another leisurely puff at his cigar. “Pretty good, Tully,” he nodded, “ for an old bachelor like myself, eh?”
Tully was an odd-looking character. He was dressed in civilian black. He was small in comparison with the general. There was about him the keen, quick, searching manner of the ferret. His beady black eyes were forever darting in and out among the dancers. His head was almost triangular in shape, the base being at the top, and the apex at his chin. He was completely bald, which gave his huge cranium a somewhat grotesque, and even terrifying appearance. His cheek bones were high above sunken cheeks. His mouth was small, thin; his chin bony.
“You know, Tully,” said the general good-naturedly, settling himself more comfortably in his chair, “ I hate to see you around.”
“Why, general?” asked Tully, raising his meager, gray eyebrows. His voice was dry, and not very strong. It gave the impression that it had not spoken with any great emotion for the past twenty years, or more. “We’ve known each other for a good many years, general, and have been good friends all that time, I hope."
“Yes," the general admitted. “All of that, Tully. But it's your blasted business! You never come around but what there are murders,killings, suicides, thievery, skullduggery, and whatnot. Just knowing you’re down here makes me nervous. I don’t know what to expect!”
Tully’s bright little eyes twinkled in his grayish face.“You don’t look nervous," he chafed dryly.
"Oh, but I am! Whenever you fellows in the Intelligence Dept come drifting around, there's something in the wind. What's up this time, Tully?
Tully raised his slender shoulders slightly. “Who can tell, general? You know how this business is. But I guess it’s nothing to be especially worried about. Washington just received information that there were some international spies seen down here, and so I was sent down to kind of nose around.”
General Marshall snorted. loudly. “You're, a damned spy yourself, Tully! I—”
TULLY’S eyes flashed momentarily, but his voice was soft. “You keep that to yourself, general. After all, it is something you know in your official capacity as commanding general of this department, and I might add, it is extremely confidential.”
Marshall removed the cigar from his mouth and patted “Tully reassuringly n the back.“You don’t have to tell me that, Tully! I’m not shouting it to the world, am I? There’s only you and me here. This silly spy business in peace time gets my goat anyway!” he frowned. “ It’s nasty enough in war.”....
Publication
Argosy Magazine, Oct. 10,1932