10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

16—_——10-STORY DETECTIVE “I’m probably too easily aroused, in- spector,” Webster answered tartly. “I’m pretty jumpy when I get worked up over a little thing like a killer shooting at me with a silenced gun!” Mattison looked mildly surprised as Webster went up the steps at his side, “That so? Somebody did that? All right, I'll look into it. He’s beat it by now, of course? Well, [ll hunt him up.” “Thanks, inspector, very much,” Webster retorted. ‘“‘But don’t let it up- set you. There’s all the time in the world, you know. What’s the use of trying to grab him now when he wouldn’t be brought to trial for months?” Mattison observed as he plodded up the steps: “‘When you’ve been going after crooks as long as I have, Web- ster, you’ll know there’s no good of going off half-cocked. I’ve been in this game too long to get excited about any- thing any more. Let justice take its course. The mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine. Take it easy, Webster.” “The mills of the gods grinding slowly,” Webster observed, “is one rea- son why the crooks have time to scramble out of the works before they get pinched.” Mattison chuckled dryly as Webster led him into the office and indicated the documents strewn on the floor. “You’re an interesting hothead,” he observed, moving about. “Maybe it’s the heat in you that accounts for your traveling so far so fast. Why, a few years ago, nobody ever heard of Jack Webster, and now you’re D. A.” Webster sensed the penetrating un- dertone of Mattison’s statement, He knew this slow-moving plodder pos- sessed a wit that was a dangerously keen weapon against any man he sus- pected, His mind was a rapier that thrust while his words drawled and he slouched. It was reaching now for a tender spot in Jack Webster and they both knew it. “If that’s a compliment, Mattison,” Webster smiled, “thanks!” “Not at all, not at all, young fellow.” The very simulation of affection in the words was a menace that Webster sensed. ‘You see, the department’s got to take it slow and careful. We can’t arrest a man without a warrant, and we can’t issue a warrant without damn’ good evidence. You—you go off like a firecracker, and if the force doesn’t work fast enough to suit you, you take on the job yourself. I never could understand how a man like you could pop up so suddenly out of no- where. You’ve certainly left your mark behind you all your life.” “T wouldn’t be surprised, inspector,” Webster parried. “I’m flattered by your interest in me personally.” ‘Naturally, I’m interested,” Maitti- son went on, looking at the scattered papers. “A fighting D.A., with two fists and fast legs and a terror to any crook he starts after—why, sure! Where’s your home town, Webster? Where’d you go to law school? What did you do before you came here?” Webster’s smile tightened. ‘“‘We’re forgetting something, aren’t we, in- spector? State’s evidence has been stolen from the district attorney’s safe. A murderer took two shots at me with a silenced twenty-two. That’s the business of the moment, isn’t it?” “That’s right,” Mattison drawled. “T’ve often noticed you don’t want to talk much about yourself, You’re too modest, Webster—too modest.” “Let it go at that,” Webster sug- gested grimly. Mattison leaned on the desk. “T’il head back to the office and see what I can do about this. There’s one thing I’ve been meaning to mention to you, Webster. Just in a friendly way, you know. No hard feelings, of course. But the way you disregard formalities and regulations and go out after crooks yourself —that’s dangerous. You might get into trouble. Ever thought of that?” “You mean,” Webster asked, ‘‘that I might break the law myself, going after crooks as I do, and then you’d have the job of giving me the works comicbooks TG tha ey