The Hunter and Other Stories

The Hunter and Other Stories

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 0802121586

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The Hunter and Other Stories

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 0802121586

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


THE HUNTER AND OTHER STORIES is a unique literary publication from one of the greatest writers of the 20th century, Dashiell Hammett. This volume includes both new Hammett stories gleaned from his personal archives along with screen treatments long buried in film-industry files. The best of Dashiell Hammett's unfamiliar treasures have been rescued from deep in these archives: screen stories, unpublished and rarely published fiction, and intriguing unfinished narratives. Hammett is regarded as both a pioneer and master of hard-boiled detective fiction, but these dozen and half stories that explore failed romance, courage in the face of conflict, hypocrisy, and crass opportunism, show him in a different light. The collection also includes two full-length screen treatments. "On the Make" is the basis for the rarely seen 1935 film Mr. Dynamite, starring a corrupt detective who never misses an opportunity to take advantage of his clients rather than help them. "The Kiss-Off" is the basis for City Streets (1931), with Sylvia Sydney and Gary Cooper caught in a romance complicated by racketeering's obligations and temptations. Like the screen stories from RETURN OF THE THIN MAN, they read as novellas-rich in both story and character.

Publication of these new volumes is due to the passion of Julie M. Rivett, Hammett's granddaughter and a well-regarded Hammett scholar, as well as Richard Layman, the author of the first full-length biography of Hammett, Shadow Man, the definitive bibliography, and other works. Rivett and Layman are trustees for Hammett's literary estate and have co-edited two previous Hammett volumes-Selected Letters of Dashiell Hammett and Dashiell Hammett: A Daughter Remembers. THE HUNTER AND OTHER STORIES will appeal to longtime Hammett fans, and introduce a new generation to one of the most influential voices in American fiction.

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“Elfinstone,” he cried thickly, trying to catch the tall man’s hand. “There is a train—” Elfinstone struck the reaching hands aside, turned to bow rigidly to Mrs. Dolliard. “You will excuse me,” he said and turned toward the elevators. “Elfinstone!” General Dolliard cried, loudly, despairingly enough to draw the curious faces of three guests in the other end of the lounge and a bellboy toward them. Mrs. Dolliard screamed. The tall man spun around. Shaded lights sparkled pinkly on the weapon

twenty of us—guests of the hotel, a hotel employee or two, a few men from the development company’s camp, and some from the village—were on hand to watch the Rainey-Linn experiment the next morning. The promoter, in red bathing suit and light overcoat, was on the pier when I got there. He was sitting on the railing, smoking a cigar and talking to Metcalf and some of his other hired men. “Good morning,” he said. I had missed him at breakfast. “A swell day, eh?” “Yeah. Looks like you’re going to

have plenty of audience.” He chuckled in a satisfied way. Presently Linn came out of the hotel, in a tan rep bath-robe that hung around his heels. Close behind him came Mrs. Rainey. She caught up with him and began talking to him, walking close to his side. Linn spoke stiffly to her as they came down the pebble walk to the pier. It was plain that she was still trying to persuade him to call the experiment off, and that her interest in it embarrassed him. I looked at her husband. He was smiling

putting, with thick pink arms, dishes on a kitchen table. A child stopped building something with blocks in the doorway and gaped at the visitor. Out of sight a baby cried without purpose. Close put the builder and his materials into the kitchen, closed the door, and the two men sat down. “Close,” the detective said softly, “you forged that check.” A woodenness came up and settled on the bookkeeper’s face. First his chin lengthened, pushing his mouth into a sullen lump, then his nose thinned

yourself.” Kipper said, “Thanks. Be seeing you.” Upstairs he found Morrie, drew him aside, and told him, “I left Tom out on the beach. Give him a little while.” Perplexity gave way to comprehension and to delight on the gangling man’s bespectacled face. He seized Kipper’s hand and pumped it up and down with violence. “Say, that’s marvelous!” he cried. “It’s—it’s—” He failed to find words and fell to pumping the hand again. Kipper released the hand, said, “Good night—swell party,” and joined

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