10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

et ‘Dr. Norton: Please analyze this sample of hair for traces of arsenic and give your report to. Inspector Mattison as soon as possible. WEBSTER. The note was sealed in the envelope with the white lock when Webster pressed it with a bill in the hand of a messenger boy. “Hang onto that,” he ordered, “‘and break all records getting there!” His face was set, his eyes shin- ing with purpose, when he returned to the wheel and sent the car whizzing again. AE GARY’S eyes reflected be- wilderment when he swung in- to the alleyway behind his home, She _ followed him as he opened the garage door. He lowered the steps, went up and into the lighted room, followed by — the girl who paused in consternation, peering at Brock, bound on the floor, and at the ruddy face of Ted Brown. “You’ve seen Ted Brown before, Mae,” Webster said with quiet grim- ness. “You know now that the district attorney is guilty of harboring a fugi- tive.” The girl asked breathlessly, “Is that—is that the reason why you can’t—”’ “No,” Webster said softly. “No, Mae, It’s — something else.’ He turned to the bound Brock while the girl watched anxiously. His lips tightened when Brown blurted: “He’s kept tight as a clam, skipper!” His hands fastened on Brock’s arms as he said: “You might get me for this, Brock —but that’s not going to stop my getting you, Understand that? Listen. Brown’s going with me. My secretary is staying here with you, ready to take any statement you want to make. This is your last chance tonight—un- derstand ?” Brock glared. Webster straightened to say: “Get into that old uniform of yours, Teddy. Mae, I’m forced to mix you up in this. Tonight’s got to decide Natto’s case—there’s no other way. If a _ Brock wants to make a statement, take See 7 ey Pa 4 =< ee : aS Se es .- + — oe a pa eo, feet—and make him sign your notes. Will you do it, Mae?” Mae Gary answered firmly: “I'll do anything you ask of me, Jack.” : Ted Brown was quickly pulling in-— to the blue uniform of a patrolman. Webster’s mind flashed details of a plan while he waited. Before going to his office, he had been watching the building in which Ray Natto lived. He had seen Natto leave, and had followed to another building. There, Webster knew, lived one Helen Norcross, a blond dancer at the Paradise Cabaret, upon whom Natto lavished furs and diamonds. He gambled that Natto was | still there, and took up the telephone to dial the number of the Norcross apartment. The woman’s voice that answered was falsely cultured. Webster, speaking in a whisper, asked: “Ray there?” ‘ ‘Yes,” “Tell him he’s wanted at home.” | Brock stared at Webster with ter- ror, Mae Gary with growing anxiety, as Webster spun the dial again. This time he ticked off the number of the apartment building in which Ray Nat- to lived. In a voice cleverly disguised, Webster asked for Natto. “What?” came over the line. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you? 1 know your voice—you’re Mr. Natto yourself.” | Webster said: “No, no. You’re mis- taken.” The doubtful answer was: “You sound just like Mr. Natto. Either way, he isn’t in.” “Take a message,” Webster direct- ed in the counterfeit of the extortion- ist’s voice. “Come to 1010 Wharton Street. One of the boys is in trouble. That’s all, thanks.” “You sure this isn’t a joke, you’re not Mr. Natto?’”’ Webster cut the connection, smil- ing tightly. Brown was buttoning the tunic of his uniform. The girl took the gun which Webster pressed into her hand and smiled. when he said: his gag off—don’t loosen his hands or |g l | his) ' erin ty fi Pay YN Gir ety t deat Miaka a; , Figs WAYN AL Ao rN i Naat val , an pea Aree ; ayia ANY a inte! ie f' % lade ¥ a) fy 4 3 Pith cM beds yh thea. >) mye ae \ieh my) i ‘4 » fig iad bey. 4 Wt “4 ¥ n ae uf 4 48 Pu “ , it PRA a Lat be «hy WA A TRG fa) Mau ab