10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

-_ — Pag ee: Willy was keyed up to the breaking point, Not realizing what he was do- ing he lashed out at Vesey’s face. The gangster took the boy’s knotted fist squarely between the eyes and went to the floor with a crash. Snarling an oath he started up. But Dogra’s pat- ent leather shoe pinned him to the floorboards. “Take it easy, you,’ warned the gang chief softly. “Maybe now you'll learn to keep out of my business. If the kid hadn’t smacked you—I would have.” Dogra took his foot off Vesey’s chest. “Now get up here.” Vesey climbed into the seat, his dark eyes glittering with venom. But he wisely kept his mouth shut. The reaction of the blow gave an outlet to Willy’s pent-up emotions. He felt better for it. His thoughts. be- gan to take coherence again. He looked at Dogra. “Who was that man? Did he die?” Dogra’s dull, fishy eyes bored straight into the boy’s. “You know nothing about this—and no one died. Do you get me?” ILLY nodded. Then he remem-. bered his missing hat. “Say, Mister Dogra, my hat blew out the window. Will they find it and—” “No, no,” Dogra waved his hand in airy assurance. “That hat will blow a couple of blocks away. Not a thing to worry about, boy. But—” Dogra looked at Willy’s bare head and drew out his wallet— “T’ll gladly make good the loss to you.” He caught a bill be- tween his thumb and forefinger and pulled it halfway out, started to put it back, then finally handed it to the lad. “Here, buy yourself a new hat.” Willy took the crisp new bill. It was a twenty dollar note. He whistled. “Say, Mister Dogra, this would buy five hats for me. The one I lost was only three seventy-five. Gee, I can’t take all this.” “Sure you can,” chuckled Dogra. _“Tt’s nothing at all.” _“That’s mighty fine of you, Mister ae = ane he ~ Some the money. = z — Vesey sullenly watched the trans- = action. His venomous eyes narrowed to glowering slits as he saw the hat money disappear into Willy’s pocket. Dogra signalled to Joe. The car came to a stop at the curb. The gang chief turned to Willy. “‘There’s a hat store on the next block. Drop in there and get yourself a real skypiece.” Dogra paused a moment, “You know, boy, you better quit your job tomor- row. Give the boss a laugh. Tell him that a rich and beautiful girl is going to keep you. That will jolt him, eh?” A grin spread over Willy’s face. He could picture how the sour-faced head shipper would take that one. Then the grin left his face. “Say, Mister Dogra, suppose the cops do find my hat. What—” “They won’t,” smiled the gangster. “But if it is turned in—remember that half the coppers in this town are in my pay.” Dogra watched Willy climb out of the car. “Drop around at Pete’s place tomorrow night. In the meantime—keep your mouth shut. See you tomorrow night.” And the car left the curb with a grating of gears. Dogra leaned back on the cushions with the air of a man who has completed a good day’s work. He selected and lighted a cigar, total- ly ignoring the sullen Vesey. “Joe,” he called to the bull-necked driver, “you got that thing from the kid’s room and planted it, eh? And you put those newspaper clippings and key in his room, eh?” Joe nodded. “Without a hitch ata" But his words were drowned in a chilling, creepy laugh that filled the interior of the car. Joe’s fingers gripped the wheel till his knuckles showed white. Vesey huddled closer into his corner. ALKING toward the hat store, Willy did a whole lot of think-— ing. That tall man clutching his stom- ach as he fell to the sidewalk was still vivid in his mind. And with nau- seating clearness came the vision of LAT U , *. 5 iin | ¥ ty PY AND (ROR ee, A Cai Tat oy ‘ ve NG, PS { ; - '\