10 Short Novels Magazine — page 42: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

40 * * * Ten Short Novels Magazine the side of the prostrate player’s head. Tom Linton’s lifelong friend turned and walked away like a mechanical man. From what seemed a long distance he heard a man say awesomely, “That monu- ment—it was put there for Tommy Lin- ton. It was Varney who—” “And Trueman was Linton’s pal. He’s the guy who claimed Varney beaned Lin- ton deliberately. He hit the ball that—” Dib kept on going. The doctor’s. words still rang in his ears. “Varney’s dead. He hardly knew what happened. He must have struck his head a terrific blow when he fell.” The way it had happened was incredi- ble. Yet all that day Dib had been con- sumed by a strange premonition. There was no answer for it in this world. His aimless steps carried him past the Cincy manager. He stopped when he heard the man say, “It was strange. He came in and said he had twisted his foot. He wanted to be taken out of the game. But the trainer said there was nothing the matter with his foot—that it was a stall. Who did you say that monument out there was for?” Dib Trueman waited to hear no more. He crossed the field and some one called to him in a frightened voice. He looked around and saw Sue Linton coming toward him. The girl seized his arm. “Dib—it was horrible. Now I know you were right. It could not have—happened —unless he had done that—to Tommy. Take me home, Dib. I can’t stand it here - any longer.” The papers from coast to coast carried the story. Perhaps those who read far from the little town of Mystic scoffed at parts of it. But a small group of people in the Linton home would never doubt a single word of what was written. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Dib,” Tom’s mother apologized tearfully. “You were right. He meant to kill Tommy that day. I never could believe otherwise now.” An oppressive silence hung over the room for awhile. Then she went on. “The mills of the gods grind slow but sure—and they grind exceedingly fine.” “We will have concrete proof about Varney before morning,” Dib cut in sternly. “I had them pick up a certain man in a plaid coat in Munger’s tavern tonight. It has been clear to me for a long time. Tommy found one of Duster’s gloves in the gas station that night. He held it over Varney so the fellow would keep away from Sue. Tom knew what it would mean to Sue if he publicly accused Duster of robbery. She had been seen with him a lot—” “Please,” Sue’s father begged. “Let’s talk no more about it. Tommy will rest easy now.” The man got up and moved toward the stairs. With his foot on the first riser he turned. “‘Come down to the factory tomorrow,” he called to Dib. “I want you to work for me—as my assistant—until you leave for the Majors. Come, Helen, the kids will want to be alone.” “It seems so natural for ts to be here —like this, Dib,” Sue said gently after a long silence. “I should always have known it could be no one else but you.” Dib kissed her tenderly and held her close. The man did not speak. What was the use of words at a time like this? The Mystic paper carried a small item a few days later. Dib Trueman, estab- lished in the office of the hat factory, read it. It had to do with the moving of the little Linton monument in the Mystic ball park to a far corner of the field so that it might not prove a hazard to players. Andrew Linton looked up from his desk when Dib Trueman said aloud, “I guess it has served its purpose.” Sta “ 3 ra ee . AA { : -. _ MOUNTAIN FEUD! Clean the whiskers from the hills Single-edge Blades. Famous since 1880. 4 blades for 10¢. Star Blade Div., Brooklyn, N. Y, SINGLE-EDGE BLADES 4.10: FOR GEM AND. EVER-READY RAZORS Comic JOOKS: com)