10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

108-————_————_——_10-STORY DETECTIVE—-—_— --_-—___—-——— not move from them. That way, if we see anybody walking around, we can blast away without worrying that one of us will be hit.” “T’ll sit here. Right beside this table,” Montague said. “Sheriff, you take that chair near the fireplace. Please, gentlemen, do your best to protect me. I’ll see that you are re- paid.” An utter silence came upon them then. Even the dogs were silent. It continued for several minutes, but the air was charged with terror. At any second those crooks might storm the house. They might even know ex- actly where Montague and his two guards were sitting. AVIS could hear Montague’s labored breathing. Patrick sat, half across the room and barely visi- ble. Several times the old house ereaked dismally and each man gave a start of anticipation, but when the sound wasn’t repeated, they relaxed. This business of waiting for death to strike was worse than actually fighting it out. Then the silence was broken by a wild yell of pain and terror. Dr. Montague leaped up, took several rubbery-legged steps across the room and fell heavily. He began to moan. Davis reached his side first and Trooper Patrick was no more than a second behind him. Davis started to turn the doctor into a more comfort- able position and Montague gave an- other yell of pain. “My back—near right shoulder. Knife—sticking in me. I’m sure it’s a knife—”’ Davis slowly passed a hand across Montague’s back until it encountered the hilt of a dagger. The knife was driven into the soft, fleshy part of the shoulder about two inches deep. A nasty, painful, yet not very danger- ous wound. Davis seized the haft and yanked the blade free to the accom- paniment of another howl of anguish from Montague. Patrick helped the inventor into a — chair. He said, in a low voice, “Do you still think we ought to stick it out, doctor? At least one of those crooks must be inside the house. Maybe the whole bunch are here.” Montague shivered. “We must go —at once. Staying here will only re- sult in my being killed. But first, I am going to bring something with me. I—must go after it—alone.” “You won’t stir unless one of us is with you,” Davis grunted. ‘‘Pat- rick, you stay here and keep your ears and eyes open. Warn us if you hear anything or spot those monkeys. Doctor, lead the way. You know this house. I’m not asking to see the place where you hide your money.” “But it isn’t—”’ Montague began. Davis cut him off. “Don’t waste time. Go to wherever you have it hid- den. If you wish, I’ll turn my back while you uncover the stuff. Only get started, all our lives are in danger.” Montague tottered out of the room. Patrick took up a position in the front hallway, beside the door. Davis fol- lowed the inventor up the wide stair- case, along a corridor, and finally Montague opened a door with a key. Instantly, the odors of a laboratory assailed Davis’ nostrils. Montague proceeded directly to what seemed to be a long table, running the length of the big room. Outside the dogs barked briefly. Montague could only use one arm because the other was practically crippled. He hauled a fairly large wooden box into the center of the lab bench, fussed with it and finally Davis heard the lid close. Montague tried to Hift the box and failed. Davis brushed him aside, tucked the box under one arm and fimally had to use both hands to carry it. The thing weighed about fifty pounds. They moved toward the stair- ease. Montague clung to the railing. He was weak from loss of blood. UDDENLY the house was flooded with light. For a moment or two neither Davis nor Montague could MIiGoOo (C(O) S (C(O) nn