10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

———TAKEN FOR A SLAY RIDE TSD was supposed to have been killed during a storm in Alaska. Alexander had met violent death in his hotel room. Stuart was certain about three of those four dead men, but Bates, the guide, presented some interesting possibilities. On an impulse, Stuart picked up the phone, and spent the next several minutes calling various numbers. There were footsteps on the porch, the door opened and Kerrigan and Gordon stepped in. They stared at Stuart for a moment and then, with happy cries, hurried to his side. “We’ve scoured the whole estate and beyond it,” Kerrigan said. “Without finding a trace of you,” Gordon put in. ““We were coming back to call police headquarters for help. What happened, sergeant?” Stuart borrowed a cigarette, le- gally begged the use of Gordon’s suit and then told them what had hap- pened in the cave. He omitted men- tion of the outboard motor-equipped rowboat which had vanished in a couple of seconds. Stuart wasn’t sure himself what the rowboat meant or how it had disappeared. “I know about the cave,” Kerrigan said, “but I’ve never been in it. Only way is down a rope over the cliff and I’m not partial to tricks of that kind. We'd better arm ourselves with guns and lights. In the morning we can examine the cave.”’ “Good,” Stuart said. “We’ll do that. Kerrigan, you'll find a good-sized phone bill at the end of the month. I called Seattle and got some results, however. Alexander sailed from Alaska and arrived about thirty-six hours ago. Bates, your guide, also took passage and hit the West Coast fully three weeks ago. Which defi- nitely puts Blake in the running.” “He’s after the granite gods,” Gor- don gasped. “He must have tricked us somehow or learned, later on, that the rock did possess value.” Stuart shook his head. “I’m sorry to blow up that theory, Gordon, It would have been a perfect solution to ———} 7 our problem. I phoned Doug Terry’s house. His valet gave me some star- tling news. John Alexander visited Terry yesterday. And for our further enlightenment Terry’s granite god has been stolen. However, soon after Alexander departed, Terry sent a piece of his granite god to a labora- tory for analysis. The result came back today and the valet read it to me over the phone. The granite god is made of granite and nothing else. It’s worthless.” ORDON chewed on his lower lip. “But why then, should those ‘pieces of stone be stolen? Maybe mine is also missing. Meredith’s too.” ‘‘Meredith’s is gone,” Stuart said. “T called his home..You’d better see about yours, Gordon.” Gordon hurried to the phone. Ker- rigan sat down slowly and lit a ciga- rette., “Bates,” he said, “could easily be responsible, I never liked him. Big fellow, beetle-browed and strong as a bull. Yet I can’t see what he wants those granite gods for.” Gordon returned, flushed and ex- cited. “Someone broke into my house earlier tonight. The granite god was stolen. Sergeant, they must mean something. And we can’t just sit here, waiting—waiting until that damned storm comes again and carries one of us off.” “Just the same,” Stuart said, “you'll stay. I’m going into town, Be back in a couple of hours. Keep your eyes and ears open.” But Stuart didn’t go into town. He drove his car away from the house, parked it and returned on foot. He didn’t use the path either, nor pass through the gate. Instead, he clambered over a high steel fence, dived into heavy brush and wriggled toward the side of the house where the big living room was located. After intently examining the ground there, Stuart looked up at the towering trees which had blown so violently during the ghost storm. OOO) O COMI S (C(O) im