10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

102 one post. Almost instantly, a small spotlight snapped on to cover Davis. He moved directly into its ray. A metallic voice came from the top of a tree. “Well, sheriff, what do you want. Who is with you? I can see someone in that car—which is a State Police car too, not your own.” “T’ve got a trooper with me,” Davis spoke loudly. “Also a prisoner he picked up. I want to see if you can identify him. Maybe we’ve cleaned up the prowler who’s been haunting your place.” “Good,” the voice snapped. “T’ll epen the gate.” Davis went back to the car where Trooper Patrick sat staring at the sate which was already opening slightly. Davis climbed into the car and chuckled. “When I pushed the bell, Montague got the signal. By remote control he turned on the spotlight to illuminate me. Something like a television set hidden nearby, brought a picture of me to Montague. We conversed by ra- dio—or maybe it’s just plain tele- vhone wires hooked to a sensitive milze.” The gate was all the way open now. Davis drove through and the gate closed behind him. A moment later they heard the yapping of dogs. Big, savage dogs by their sound. “Any crook who tries to get onto Dr. Montarue’s estate has a good chance of winding up on a morgue slao—like Spats will. Those dogs can tear a man to bits. The fence can shock him to death and there are a few other pitfalls too, trooper. That’s why I came along— to protect you.” Patrick wiped his forehead and grinned weakly. “I guess you’re richt. Say, has this Montague really got all that money he’s reputed to have hidden up here?” Davis shrugged. ‘‘Who knows? He always has plenty of cash or. hand. Well, we’re here. Take a look on the porch. That’s Montague waiting for us.” 10-SSTORY DETECTIVE R. MONTAGUE was tall, white- haired and wore nose glasses. He was a man of slight build and seemed to be highly nervous. Davis marched the prisoner up to him. Montague squinted at the man. “I never saw him before,” he declared. “Two days ago I happened to be strolling near the Hmits of my es- tate. The dogs went wild and I turned on a flashlight. Got a glimpse of a prowler. Wasn’t this man. How many are trying to get onto my property anyhow?’ Davis said, “Doctor, you didn’t blaze away at the man you saw, by any chance? We found a dead man further down in the valley. Somebody had put two or three slugs through his face.” “T didn’t shoot anyone,’ Montague declared. “A scientist doesn’t have to use firearms to protect himself, Well, come into the house. ’m glad you came, sheriff. I’d like to have you stay the night with me. The trooper can lock your prisoner up.” “1’}] stay if you wish,” Davis an- swered, “but I think you’re pretty well protected.” “Perhaps—but I’m sure there are several men trying to get through the fence. They’re after something, but they won’t get it. I worked hard so I could retire permanently, sheriff. I don’t intend that some slimy mur- derer is going to kil] me.” Trooper Patrick shoved his pris- oner into the house. “The fact is, doctor,” he said bluntly, “the man whose body we found happens to have been a pretty dangerous crook and killer known as Spats Stafford. He al- ways traveled with a mob and i figure they killed him for some reason or other. Maybe to make the split of their loot that much smaller. I think it’s best if you locked all the doors and windows. Have you a gun handy ?” “No gun,” Montague declared. “I don’t need one. But that’s a good idea. There are many windows. Sheriff, will you help me lock them?” MIGoOo (C(O) S (C(O) nn