10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

52 much as you can do. Meanwhile, Pi be ob- servant here in the store.” Sunday arrived and passed. And Mon- day afternoon came. As yet, neither the sheriff of Cashaw Valley nor Ole Man Moneyhun had spotted a suspect. . During the week end, word of the rob- bery had spread over the valley. This Monday afternoon, Tadpole Crossing teemed with imhabitants. Outside Ole Man Moneyhun’s general merehandise store, a dozen cars could be counted, and the hiteh rack was lined with saddle horses. Men stood about in small groups, talking in hush-hush tones. After all, the perpetrator of the erime was amongst them unknown. | Inside the store, more inhabitants milled, buying sugar, coffee, shortening, garments, print cloth, plow peints, and horse harnesses. Here and there scurried Ole Man Moneyhun, waiting on this eus- tomer, waiting on that eustomer, and ob- serving the fingers of the left hand of each as he did so. Now he weighed up a pound of loose coffee for Elijah Bishop. — “It’s too bad about what happened,” remarked Bishop. “Thank you,” Ole Man Moneyhun re- plied. “You say whoever it was wore a black hat and a black cloak?” Ole Man Moneyhun nodded his round, grey head—studying the fingers of Bish- op’s left hand. “I'}} bet he knows you well, whoever he is. all right,” continued Bishop. “That's why he eovered up that way. He was afraid you would be able to recognize him later if he only used something over his face.” Then big Bill Jackson bought a pair of overalls. “How’s your head, Mister Mon- eyhun?” he inquired, “Tt feelg better today, thank you.” Ole Man Moneyhun glanced at the fingers of the left hand of Big Bill Jackson. “T hear he was as big as I,” continued Jackson, - “T think he had on a heavy overcoat under the cloak,” replied Ole Man Mon- eyhun. His blue eyes crinkled. uEN came Zeke Baleford who asked for a plug of chewing tobacco, re- marking, “Heard you were robbed Sat- oe night, Have any idea yet who done 10STORY DETECTIVE “Pm afraid not,” sighed Ole Man Mon- eyhun. Wearily, he looked at the fingers of Baleford’s left hand. “From what I hear, he was as smart as people say you are,” Baleford continued. “I don’t believe you’ll ever catch him!” Baleford drew his wallet from his right | hip pocket, slipped a bill out with his thumb, and reached it toward Ole Man Moneyhun. His round, grey head thrust forward, Ole Man Moneyhun just stood there, peer- ing steadily Baleford. “Pve caught hima now,” Ole Man Moneyhun said. “You robbed me!” — Suddenly, there was quiet im the mill- — ing room. “Hear him!” laughed Baleford. “Ac- euses me of robbing him Saturday night—” . “It was you!” said Ole Man Moneyhun, his voice rising. “I can prove it! Sheriff!” Baleford lunged into the erowd. He didn’t get far, however. Many hands caught and held him, and pushed him baek to face Ole Man Moneyhun. “Let's see if Mister Moneyhun ean prove it,” several men said. The sheriff shouldered through. Quick-_ ly he glanced at the fingers of Baleford’s left hand. Then he looked at Ole Man Moneyhun. Money hun—” “Aw, I done it, all right,” said Bale- ford. “I don’t guess there’s any use deny- me someway. 1 was afraid of that. PR give him his money—” “I—his fingers aren’t swollen,” the sheriff said. “How—I mean—” “IT know his fingers aren’t swollen,” said Ole Man Moneyhun. “I doubt if his fingers are even sore now. But they have been. During my life I’ve observed that onee 4 man starts carrying his wallet in a certain pocket, he seldom changes that pocket unless there’s a reason for doing so. As long as I’ve known Zeke Baleford, he has carried his wallet in his left pocket. Just now he pulled it from his right hip pocket.” . Ole Man Moneyhun’s bulbous features creased with a smile and his blue eyes crinkled and twinkled. “What better rea- sen would you want for that than sprained fingers of ihe left hand?” “Are—are you sure, Mister COMmiclooolK (C@