10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

le Dhan Namah aati ANT Sen cotlont wabens tere he could... Finger the Phantom By Stallard Jones LE MAN MONEY- HUN, That was what he was called when spoken of by the inhabitants of Cashaw Valley. To his face, he was called Mister Moneyhun, presence, Ole Man Moneyhun glanced up, His eyes widened. He thrust his round, grey head forward, to peer, “Just. take it easy, Ole Fellow,” came a wheezy whisper. “Don’t get excited and Small, ey. plump and round-shoul- . dered, all the features of his face slighily bulbous, his blue eyes twinkly and crink- ly, he was famed throughout the valley for his ability to remark correctly upon the peculiarities of any absent inhabitant who, perchance, was the subject of a con- versation, Men marveled at this ability of Ole Man Moneyhun’s. What color is Jeff Oliver’s eyes, blue? No, grey. Is Elijah Bishop right or left-handed? Left-handed. Which breast pocket does Henry Failen carry his spectacles in? Right’n. “Why I can’t even tell you offhand,” one inhabitant would say to another, “whose picture is on a dollar bill!” For twenty-odd years, Ole Man Money- hun had run a general merchandise store at Tadpole Crossing, a spot eentrally h- cated in the valley, and so named be- cause here the main road and only ereek of the valley crossed, Tonight—dusk. of a February Satur- day—as was his custom at the end of a week, Ole Man Moneyhun, by the light of a dingy bulb suspended from the over- head ceiling, stood emptying his cash register, Darkly, his shadow fell across the counter, bobbling grotesquely with his movement, while shadows, still and grey, filled the corners, nooks and cran- nies of the store: It was out of one of these still and grey nooks that, there now suddenly materialized a dark, moving _ shadow—a huge, black barrel-like thing, the height of a tall man. Soundlessly, this moved toward Ole Man Moneyhun, Probably sensing the start something I’ll have to finish. Raise - your hands!” By this time the dark, shapeless masa had come within the circle of light cast by the dingy bulb. Hardly recognizable as such, admittedly, the thing was a man, nevertheless. A black, cloaklike affair, falling from beneath a black hat, draped his entire body. Through two small holes eut in the cloak, his eyes glinted like ice reflecting a red, setting sun. Through a slit in the right front of the cloak, a black-gloved fist jutted, holding a gun. “{ said, ‘raise your hands’!” came the wheezy whisper again. “Don’t stand there staring!” Slowly, still staring, Ole Man Money- hun raised his hands. The black-hatted man advanced until his bulky front touched the counter, “Now take the rest of the money ont of that machine and place it on that al- ready on the counter, then hand it all to me,” directed the wheezy whisper. Obediently, Ole Man Moneyhvn began to take bills out of the cash register draw- er. Black-and-bulky leaned across the counter and watched to see that all com- partments were cleaned. Then Ole Man Moneyhun placed the bills from the cash register on the ones already on the coun- ter, and took up the stack. Through a slit on the left front of the cloak, Black-and-bulky’s left hand emerg- ed, black-gloved, and reached to receive the money. Ole ManMoneyhun placed it in Black-and-bulky’s outstretched hand. An instant later he had grasped the fingers of that hand suddenly and bent them the way they weren’t made to be bent, They popped and crackled, (EO) DOL (C@)