10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

The Killer and the Cavity By Berna Morris ) : Though the jaws of the law were yawning for Culpy Benton, a tinier cavity threatened to swallow him first. HE hubbub i was two floors down, so Culpy Benton stopped on a stair landing and drew great gasping breaths. He cursed | | softly. Damn _ that little Peewee Darby, giving him a wrong steer. Not saying anything about that loan company having an alarm system. He had almost stopped it though, but the clerk had reached the buzzer before Cul- py’s knife had found his heart. Culpy’s lips twisted; damn the little aqueak anyhow. Well, he’d lived long enough to find out you couldn’t buck Cul- py Benton and get away with it. He went on up the stairs, walking swiftly, but not running. It was close to seven o'clock. Most of the offices were empty, the corridors echoing hollowly. On the tenth floor, he left the stairs and walked rapidly down a cross hall. Luckily he had cased the joint himself. Luekily he had mapped this getaway. Cautious Culpy. That was him. His steps rang on the marble floor and most of the offices he passed were dark . and empty, but seft light glowed behind several frosted glass panels. Culpy’s feet traversed a slight hump in the floor, and he knew he was in the adjoining building. Not many people knew of the opening be- tween the two buildings. It was on the tenth flcor only and had been made for the convenience of some high renting tenant. Culpy’s step was jaunty now. He turned down another hall and started down the stairs. Not the elevator. Oh, no. Not for cautious Culpy. He had gone down about half a floor when he heard a thudding of feet from far below. Culpy stopped. There was something dreadfully familiar about the sound. His heart seemed to hiccup, then leaped for- $4. ward. He slid over to the grating that protected the elevator shaft. It was an old-fashioned building and the staira were built around the elevator shaft, which was protected by heavy scrolled grating, so that you could see far down into the great black heart of the building. Culpy eased over and peered down into the murky depths. Lights glowed on the landings, There, three floors below, he saw two figures. The figures moved, pounding upward, and he eaught the gleam of buttons on the coat fronts. Culpy’s little eyea narrowed, and he mumbled vilely in his throat. Those so- and-so smart cops. He looked down again, then turned and sped back up the staira, back down the corridor, Right and left, left and right, Culpy‘s squinty littl eyes darted. He tried a couple of the darkened office doors, They were all locked. The footsteps were closer now; soon they would round the corner. Light glowed from behind the frosted door-panel of the next office. Culpy glanced over his shoulder. Hia lips curled away from his teeth. Voicea echoed around the angle of the hall, Cul- py pushed the door open and slipped in- side. < Leaning against the wall, he looked about. There were a number of chairs and a table covered with magazines. A door in the far wall was ajar. A man’s voice, humming softly, merged with clicking, scraping noises from the other room. As Culpy leaned against the wall and tried to slow his plunging heart, the half- singing voice stopped, and there was the sound of a chair being moved. A figure ap- peared in the doorway. The man pushed the door fully open with his foot and stood staring at Culpy through thick glasses. He had on a white smock that buttoned up the side and around his neck in Russian style, and he was stirring a gmooth, creamy mixture in a bowl. He |. GoOMmicdoo eS GO fl