"That Martian story," Belcher said. "The one about the colony on Mars and the new race of Earth-Mars men that springs up--I've forgotten the title. They say Fitz-James O'Brien never could remember the titles of his stories either." Joey said, "You never gave me any such yarn," and this time he really meant it. Belcher said, "You're crazy." Down at the other end of the table someone wanted to know who O'Brien wrote for. I said, "He's dead. He wrote 'The Diamond Lens.'" "He was the first pulp writer," Belcher said. "Most folks believe Poe invented the short story. Land-sake! Poe never wrote a short story. He wrote mood pieces. O'Brien was the first. He wrote great short stories and great pulp stories." I said, "If you're looking for the father of the pulp industry, why don't you go back far enough? There was a boy named Greene in the late Sixteenth Century." "You mean 'Groatsworth of Wit' Greene?" "The very same. Only forget that piece of junk. It was his last grab at a dollar. Get hold of a catalogue some day and see the quantity of pulp he poured out to make a living. Pamphlets and plays and what not." Someone said, "Greene a pulp writer?" He sounded shocked. I said, "Brother, when he turned that stuff out, it was pulp. Passes three hundred years and it turns into literature. You figure it out." Belcher waved his hand. "I was talking about the invention of the short story," he said. "O'Brien--" I tried to cut him off. "I thought O'Brien predated Poe." It was a mistake. Belcher said, "Not at all. O'Brien fought in the Civil War. He was with the Thirty-seventh Georgian Rifles, I believe. A captain. He--" I nudged Joey so hard he yelped, but he said, "I tell you I never received any such story!" Then Mallison grunted and sipped his drink. He started to talk and we missed the first few words. It's always that way with Mallison. He's white-haired, incredibly ancient-looking, and he acts half dead. He used to be in the navy so he writes sea stories now. They say he acquired a peculiar disease in the tropics that makes him mumble most of the time. He turns out a damned good yarn. Finally we figured out Mallison was calling Joey a liar. "Say, what is this?" Joey said indignantly. "Are you kidding?" Mallison mumbled something about Joey stealing a story of his that never got paid for and never showed up. Belcher nodded and poured wine from a bottle. He always drinks a cheap kind of stuff with the greatest ostentation. He acts as though it makes you more important if your drink comes out of a bottle instead of from a glass on a tray. He said, "I'll bet some mag paid two cents for it, Joey, and you're holding out." Joey snorted. "You better look in your desk, Belcher. You probably forgot to give me the yarn." Belcher shook his head. "I know I haven't got it. I can't think how I lost it--" * * * * *