10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

nh ay as aera s yr ih > x i f A { , rol aes te iy i : * WIA ce i : ts vt ; . : i i 1 ‘ D LB) OY ¢ a1) NRL NL et ?, Pe Al i Peete il i¥ ' 14 } *w _ ff ‘ 7: 4 PN REAAN & 4 ay Pi es } Me rg Aut the home-bound workers being hurled from the bumper of the speeding car. They were all dead. No human body could survive that terrific im- pact. Four men killed in one night— and before his very eyes. Willy shud- dered. He had not pictured this side of mob life. All that had registered on his mind was the ready money and the high life that went with it. Then he thought of his job. Steven’s department store wasn’t the worst place in the world to work. That re- minded him of what Dogra told him to tell his boss. Now out of the Italian gang chief’s presence, he saw it in a different light. He spat disgustedly. _ And that gesture plainly bespoke his attitude toward any fellow who would let a girl keep him. - Willy did not even look in the win- dow of the hat store. That twenty dol- lars with two-fifty added to it would buy him a suit. He needed a suit. For he was going back to his job in the morning, and keep it. That one auto- mobile ride had shown him all the mob life he wanted to see. Ten minutes later, with his mind fully made up, he turned a corner a block away from his rooming house. Just as he was about to cross the street, a stocky, broad-shouldered man stepped out of a doorway and called to him: “Hey, Willy. Wait a minute.” The lad whirled about and recog- nized the newcomer. “Why, hello, Dan. What are you doing here?” Dan Hailleran stepped up and grasped the boy’s arm. “Waiting for you, son. Come on, let’s get away from here.” Willy held back, “What’s the mat- ter with going to my room?” “Plenty,” came back Halleran. “Come on, we’re going for a subway ride.” Seated in a quiet little restaurant on the other side of town, Halleran looked thoughtfully at the puzzled lad, “Well,” the Irishman began, “you certainly took my Kaela about Vesey, didn’t you?” Willy waved away the thought. “That’s all over, Dan. I’m going back — to my job tomorrow and like it. I’m through with the mob.” Halleran shook his head grimly. x “No, you're not—and if something | isn’t done damn fast, you’re going straight to the electric chair!’ “W-What—?” “Shut up! And if you interrupt me once, I’m gonna sock you for the brainless puppy you are! Just sit tight and listen.” Halleran took a deep breath. “You wouldn’t know it, of course, but Dogra’s classy moll, Lola Blaine, has been two-timing him for a rich swell named Milton Reynolds.” Willy’s eyes went wide. “You mean that society fellow who’s always in the papers?” Up came Halleran’s balled fist. “See this? Next time you butt in—you get it!” The Irishman scratched his chin. ‘“‘Where was I? Oh, yeah. Reynolds, that’s the bird all right. And Dogra wanted him bumped. But he knew the papers would kick up enough fuss to break him and his mob. Now all that Dogra needed was some dumb goat to take the rap for him. And that was you.... The rap guy!” Willy started up from his chair. “Then that tall man Dogra shot was —Milton Reynolds!” The lad sank back into his chair. Like a knockout punch came the stunning realization of the spot he was in. It was appalling, unbelievable, “Dan,” he asked huski- ly, “are you sure—are you—?” Halleran nodded grimly. “Yep, son. I found it out too late to help you. Now pull yourself together and tell me everything that happened. Every detail.” - HEN WILLY finished, Dan shook his head sadly. “Got your fingerprints on the rod, clip and all, huh? Then chucked your hat in with it. Damn his rotten soul!” Very slowly Willy came to his feet. = : : :