A Novel in a Week

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 17947, 26 November 1932, Page 13

A Novel in a Week

MR. Robert G. Curtis, who for 19 years was secretary to the late Mr. Edgar Wallace, knew the famous novelist better than any other man. He can think of no weaknesses in his employer but the lovable ones of extravagance and generosity. He says: “Almost any story of hard luck and poverty, no matter how blatantly untrue, was enough to send his hand groping for his wallet, and there was no lack of unscrupulous spongers to take .advantage of his unselfish generosity. It became a by-word with tho indigent parasites who always hovered around him, as well as among tlioso in genuine need of help, that Wallace was always ‘good for a fiver.’ ” There is no attempt to hide Mr. Wallace’s gambling and racing interests, and lie tells the story of one week’s liectie work. A novel of 120,000 words, not yet begun, had to be delivered on the following Saturday. Fortunately for his readers, the horses lie backed lost, and when he returned home he sat down lo three and a half frenzied days of distation. "Work went on night and day, Sirs. Wallace helping with the typing; but even so, 40,000 words remained to be typed at 9 o’clock on Saturday morning. “I shall never forget the scene in my office that Saturday morning .... “Throughout the morning tire two typewriters buzzed and clattered and banged at a speed of which I am sure neither Mrs Wallace nor I had ever believed ourselves to lie capable—and in those days championship laurels were on my brow. “The whole of the domestic staff] was pressed into service and set to ■ the tasks of separating the typed j pages as we flung them from our ; machines, collating them, punching j holes in them and fastening them up. Our horny-handed chauffeur, ruthlessly dragged from oiling and greasing the car, manfully struggling, with an occasional surreptitious lick of It is j fingers, to separate the thin sheets of j typing paper, ids worried expression as he fumbled at his unaccustomed job, and the glances of mute reproach which he .shot at 'Wallace, are memories which t shall never lose.” At last the work was done: “A. taxicab driver, rendered terrifyingly reckless by the promise of an absurdly generous tip, got me to the newspaper office at exactly two minutes to one. I handed over the manuscript, received the cheque for £IO.OO, and returned to Wallace's fiat —by bus.*’ From “Edgar Wallace Each Wav,” bv Mr. Robert G. Curtis.