Pulp Fiction, 1942 · page 57 of 116
10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 57: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 55 from "Crime on His Hands" This is a story page featuring prose narrative with an accompanying illustration. The text shows a dialogue between characters named Don and Sam, discussing a man with a "Fuller-brush mustache" who apparently tried to kill Don. The narrator suspects this man is Albert Kenyon and believes Kenyon may have killed Uncle Henry. Sam responds with alarm at the escalating danger and expresses relief at the prospect of leaving the city after a funeral. The illustration depicts a man in a hat and coat sitting at a desk or table, appearing to be in a tense or contemplative moment, consistent with the crime-drama narrative visible in the text.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
———CRIME ON HIS HANDS————— CHAPTER V XCITEMENT coursed through me, I grabbed Sam’s arm. “Did you see him? Did you get a look at him? What did he look like?’ Sam frowned. “I got only a quick glimpse, but I remember he was dressed all in brown and had a stiff Fuller-brush mustache. I think I might recognize him again. Why, Don?’ “Because that man just tried to kill me,’ I said softly. Kenyon, I thought, Albert Kenyon. The descrip- tion could fit nobody else. Sam let out a whistle. “No! Say, this thing is getting wilder every min- ute. First Uncle Henry and then you! Why, what’s he got against you, Don?” I shook my head. “I’m not sure, I believe he thinks I may have stum- bled onto something. Sam, I think Kenyon killed Uncle Henry.” * Lon as «4! at : rr 5 59 “Jealousy?” Sam asked. “Exactly. He was afraid his wife was going to leave him. He’s madly in love with her. I doubt if he’d stop at anything to keep her.” Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, took out a handkerchief and held it against his nose. ‘“‘You’d better be eareful, Don. A guy like that would stop at nothing.” “T’ll certainly be glad to get back to the farm after Uncle Henry’s funeral. I’ve had enough of the city.” Sam looked up. “Did he have a gun?” “No, a knife. Luckily, I woke up in time to scare him away.” “Whew!” Sam exclaimed. “Can you imagine if I'd walked in here and found you dead? What a shock!” Reaction set in and my legs felt IGDoo (A) : S (CO