10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

Sj i tv? A ee Wa a ( ; ¥, iA ¢8———____—_—_——————_10-STORY DETECTIVE ._ I could keep that rat waiting here ten years, I’d do it.” Tony Balch strode into the room. He was dark, crafty looking and cruelty shone bright in his black eyes. He clamped both hands flat on Tom’s desk and glowered in ill concealed hate. “Tryin’ to take it out like this, are you?” he half snarled. “Makin’ me wait three hours before you can see me. Listen, Fargo, I’m free, get me? I’m sprung and you can’t stop me. You tried hard enough, but for once the Parole Board had sense. I—”’ “Shut up!” Tom snapped. “You’re not free until the main gate closes behind you—and from then on you’re only paroled, remember that. You are to report to me twice a month, Balch. The first time you miss, you’ll be yanked back here. You’re going out of the prison over my protest, but you had money enough to buy that restaurant you say you’re going to take over. You hired the best lawyers and you fooled the Board. But you’re not fooling me, Balch. I know you for what you are and when you leave here, you’d best take things very easy.” Balch drew his lips back in a snarl. “Some day, mister wise guy, you’re going to be sorry for tellin’ me this stuff. Sure I’m on parole and I'll obey every letter of it. What kind of a sap do you think I am?” “And Fi tell you something else,” Tom went on as though Balch hadn’t spoken. “I'll tell you what I couldn’t explain to the Parole Board. Two years ago, Balch, you planned an es- cape from this prison. You succeeded in getting three machine guns and a quantity of Mills bombs smuggled in here. How, I don’t know. You planned to kill anyone who stood in your way and you would have done it. “Somebody found those guns and bombs. The man who. did so never squealed, but he realized the disaster you could ereate once you were started on your way out. He knew that dozens of innocent men would die and—he fixed these guns and bombs so that they were useless!” Balch’s eyes were wide in astonish- ment he couldn’t conceal. There was concentrated hate and murder in those black orbs, too. His fingers were clenched into hard fists. “You know who did that, Balch, and so do I. That man wasn’t a squeal- er, although he could have fixed things so that you would never get out of here. He simply wrecked your weapons and let it go at that. You’re going out of here with revenge rankling in your soul. “Listen to this — if you harm Robert Reade, I’ll come after you and your next stop will be the chair. Reade didn’t sing to the warden, but I know how you feel toward him. He’s going straight and—he is to be left alone. Reade told me about that, but I had to promise secrecy. Reade got nothing out of it.” Balch remained silent. Gradually the fire went out of his eyes. He be- came composed, suave and smiling. “Okay. If that’s all, P’ll be on my way.” Tom yanked open a drawer in his desk. He took out a twenty dollar bill and a railroad ticket. “The State gives you this money to get a start on life. The railway will carry you back to New York. That’s all, Balch. Report to me here twice a month.” “Twenty bucks!’’ Balch sniffed con- temptuously and folded the bill. He tucked it in his vest pocket. “Five years I worked for this.” He threw the railroad ticket on Tom’s desk. “You can keep that. I’ve got a car waiting outside. Some day, mister, you’re going to wish you had kept your mouth shut. You could have earned enough to take care ef you for the rest of your life if you’d listened to me.” “The door,” Tom said eurtly, “opens by turning the knob. Get out!” Balch laughed, turned on his heel and slammed the door with all the strength he could muster. Tom sighed, cS comicboo co