10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

eracking a tight. little murder racket, with Fane as. its master. What had. followed was something Tommy Slawter wanted to forget. That. terrible eternity when. he’d crawled. over the cold roofs, Fane’s knife in his chest, slowly approaching Vale’s thinly clad, motionless body. He’d thought her dead then. The horror spouted of that belief had never entirely left him. Days and days afterwards, at the hos- pital, with Vale reaching back from death’s cold pitch to cling to his hand, were now remembered as a long, hideous nightmare. Then, drunk with verging madness, he’d sworn himself as the liv- ing instrument for Masser Fane’s un- doing. And since then, many times, he’d prayed for that priviledge. Now, a few hours ago, he’d let the crooked one slip through his fingers. He’d withdrawn his attention for a mo- ment. The darkness— Fane’s: consort— had whisked the little murderer away. Weeks later when Fane had begun to jive again, the doctor had said: “Severe spinal injury, Slawter. She'll mever walk again, unless—” There was a hope! Slim as a strand of the dew-spider’s web. But a hope, nevertheless. The doctor had frowned ponderingly. “Sometimes, rarely, a sud- den shock will instantly remedy such a condition—” Tommy Slawter had thought, A sud- den shock for Vale? No! Never! Vale should never be subjected to any kind of shock again. Never! Afterwards Vale had shocked him when she’d insisted on returning to the little apartment to live. “But the place will be a constant re- minder,” he’d started to protest, She’d put a finger on his lips, hushing him. “A reminder of your courage only,” she’d told him, smiling warmly. So they’d eome back to their little - nest, four stories high, with a patch of tarpaper for their front and back ~ . yards. A® THEY sipped their coffee, basking in the winter sunshine made warm by its passing through the breakfast- nook windows, she asked, “Have they identified the young man’s body?” “No,” he told her. “They found ene thousand dollars in his coat. He was ‘expensively dressed. No tramp about, —_—_—__MERCHANT OF VENGEANCE———— —_—_———————9 him. I don’t believe he actually ate any of the soup.” “He probably didn’t” she said. “Probably—anything.” He shrugged, puzzling it over. Afterwards: he told her about Fane, dreading it. “Don’t be alarmed, Vale. We’ve known ali along that. he was somewhere around, He had to be.” He paused, seeking an easy way. Her soft blue eyes. focused: on his, He waited for her te pale, but she feoled him, There was a trace ef contempt in the quiet. smile that clothed her face a moment later. “Yeu’ve seen Mr. Masser Fane, our old acrobatic friend?” Ib was a perfect guess. She couldn’t have missed. He nodded. “He was on the midnight bus. That’s why I went to the cafe, | had to follow him.” “He poisoned the young man, of eourse,” she said. “Everything is soe very simple now.” He shook his head, “No. He couldn’t have known the fellow would come in and eat some of. the soup.” She was quiet for a time, then said. “I’m glad he escaped you, Tommy.” “TI know it,” he said, ““You’ve prayed I’d never come to grips with him. You’re afraid when I kilk him it will hurt me, maybe put me in prison, But it won't. I'll work it so it won’t. He isn’t worth it. When I crack him it will be im sueh She took hold his hand. “Let’s drep it,” she said. ‘““He’ll never bother us again. Surely he feels what he has already done to us is vengeance enough,” “T don’t know,” he said, “Sometimes I dream about him, dream that he came back, came and—” “Please, Tommy,” she begged, He grinned, patted her hand. Then he told her about the old lady, amd went to his overcoat hanging in the hall te bring the piece of newspaper she’d given him. His overcoat pockets were flat. The roll of news sheet was gone. “Did you leave your overcoat hanging up front in the cafe?” Vale asked. He admitted that he had. “Stupid me,” he began. “I’m the dumbest guy thai ever—” Vale hushed him with, “It wasn’t stu- pidity, Tommy. It was the excitement of finding him again.” \ chook (@© (©) im