10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

eam UG re 1657s : i? 70——____—__—_10-STORY DETECTIVE dazed to even deny his connection with them. Martin scratched his chin. “Say,” he mused aloud, “I’d like to strength- en this love nest of the dame and the kid. The papers will eat it up. There oughta be somethin’ here of his.’’ He turned to Jenkins, his aide, “Say, Jenk, take a look around this dump.” Jenkins had his reply all ready. Seemed like he was waiting for Mar- tin’s cue to speak his lines. “Sure thing, sarge, I’ll snoop around.” And without the slightest hesitation, Jen- kins made a bee-line for the bedroom. Two minutes later he reappeared brandishing a skin cigarette case with initials burned on it. The sort of a souvenir you would pick up at Coney Island. He stuck it under Willy’s nose. “This yours?” he growled. Willy’s eyes went wide open. There in the detective’s hand was his own cigarette case. On the brown skin were burned initialsk—W. M. This was the last straw. Willy knocked the cigarette case out of the detective’s hand. “You were right, Dogra!” he cried bitterly. ‘““You have the lousy cops in your pay. You have the yellow mutts crawling—” Martin’s big hand closed around the lad’s throat, cutting off his wind. “Mister Dogra,”’ grinned the detec- tive, “maybe this fresh kid could trip as he got off the elevator. An accident, you know. Fall right on his face.” With that the big detective drew back his ham-like fist. “T wouldn’t do that, Martin!” The crisp voice came from the di- rection of the door. Martin, Jenkins and Dogra whirled in their tracks. There in the doorway stood Dan Hal- leran with a .45 automatic in his hand, Behind him were two smooth- shaven young men. Each of them held a glittering blue-black automatic. OGRA’S face twisted in rage. “Halleran!” he snarled. ‘“What the hell do you mean—” Wham! The stocky Irishman’s fist crashed into Dogra’s snarling face, shredding his lips and breaking off two front teeth. Halleran followed up with a shove that sent the gangster sprawl- ing on the floor. “How do you like that, Dogra? Maybe it’ll teach you not to let a yel- low flatfoot make a pass at a kid!’ Dogra started to get up. Halleran drew back his fist. “You sit right there on the floor.” Halleran bent over and frisked Him. “No rod. Playing safe, eh? Now sit there, or I’ll crown you.” “Dan!” and Willy found tears came from that name. The Irishman’s teeth gleamed in a smile. “Hi, Willy. Be with you soon as I draw the fangs from these brave coppers.” Martin and Jenkins stood cowed under the steady automatics of Hal- leran’s two companions. Martin was the first to find his tongue. “See hére, Halleran, this is pretty high play for a gangster. I’ll send you up for life, so help me—” Halleran thrust his face within an inch of the blustering detective’s. “You'll help yourself to a broken nose, if you don’t shut up.” Martin backed away several steps. His guts turned to water when a man faced him. Halleran took Martin’s gun and dropped it into his coat pocket. Next he took Jenkins’, “And you,’ the Irishman con- fronted Jenkins, “‘you’re the smart dick who found the cigarette case, huh?” With a snort of disgust, he cuffed Jenkins back against the wall. Taking a key from Martin’s pocket, he unlocked Willy’s handcuffs. “Gee, Dan,’ Willy grabbed his friend’s hand, “I’m glad to see you.” ““Me, too, Willy. I’d have been here sooner—” Halleran made a wry face and rubbed his chin, —“‘but that sock you handed me was sure a hummer. That’s all right, son. I understand how you felt. Forget it.” Halleran felt a soft arm entwine his own. He cocked his head to one cComichbooks (ee)