10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

——DESIGN FOR A RUB-OUT from the stand and leave by the same way you entered, That is all there is to it. Pll write out those directions, if you prefer.” Mugegsy’s lips twitched. “I can re- member.” “Then—you’ll do it?” Tiny lethal flames flickered for an instant in the depths of Muggsy’s eyes. His hands closed over the money on the table, lifted it and tucked it securely into a pocket of his coat. “Naw,” he said. “I ain’t takin’ the job. But I’m charging you this grand for a bit of advice. I know all about you. Mrs. William Rathborne, Jr, The dame who gets her picture in the pa- per because she has a lot of dough, throws flashy parties and has a good- looking husband who don’t have a cent. “But I’m telling you this—” his low voice dropped menacingly—‘“next time you go slumming pick your places. Maybe you’re figuring out a new gag for a party. Maybe not. May- be you don’t think I know you live at that address you just gave me. And you haven’t figured out what the cops are gonna say when they learn you were in here talking to me a few hours before a dame gets bumped off in your home.” “All that has been taken care of.” “Okay. Whatever you say. But deal me out. And after this don’t try to pull your wise stuff around here. It ain’t smart and it ain’t healthy !” HE woman rose sleekly, imper- turbable. There was fear in her eyes, but so far back that Muggsy couldn’t see it. “You will be paid for your serv- ices,” she said coldly. “And I assure you this is no gag, as you call it. My only stipulation is that you use the gun provided for the purpose and which will be on the stand at the head of the stairs. Use gloves if you wish to leave the gun there. Take it with you if you desire.” Turning swiftly, she crossed the room without a backward glance, ———-—-——TJ pushed through the door and slowly mounted the concrete steps. Mugesy lifted his glass of beer. *“T’ll be damned,” he muttered, and swallowed it ata gulp.... At exactly nine o’clock, Muggsy Roberts swung a gleaming black lim- ousine into the curb and switched out the lights. The car was hot—so hot it had not yet been reported—and by the time its loss was discovered Mugg- sy wouldn’t be needing it any more. What he was about to do was against the principles of a first-class torpedo, but curiosity had got the best of Muggsy Roberts. It was a screwy setup, but no harm could come from having a gander at the place. Muggsy knew a lawyer whe could squash a breaking and entry charge without thinking twice. The Rathborne home was a virtual mansion set far back from the street and fronted by a wide lawn. Muggay walked across soft grass that muffled his footsteps until he found himself at the rear of the house. There was an eerie feeling of de- sertion about the huge stone building that sent little ripples along his spine. Mugegsy shrugged away a momentary inclination to flee. Stepping forward, he placed a firm hand on the door- knob and turned it slowly. The door was unlocked. Muggsy darted swiftly through the opening and slid to one side, merging with the shadows. He stood quiet a long time, holding his breath, listening for alien sounds. There was nothing. Like a furtive ghost, Muggsy moved noiselessly across the kitchen floor. Turning to the left, as he had been directed, he found himseli in the hallway. Risking his flash, he saw the vague outline of the stairs at the far end of the corridor. Up the wide, carpeted steps, to where the door on the right stood ajar. Perspiration beaded Muggsy’s forehead as he peered cautiously inte the room. Someone was there. Some- one who sat wistfully at a window, gazing pensively outside. Moonlight, GORmiGooo S (CO im