10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

86—_____—_—————_10-STORY DETECTIVE “Can the chatter. Big trouble. Got to get it fixed up. Come right over.” He snapped the receiver on the hook, stepped out into the drug store, killed a few minutes looking over the Magazine rack. Then, disregarding the. curious stare of the clerk, he stepped out, walked briskly down the street toward the rooming house. The street was deserted now. Joe turned and walked up the front steps, tried the door. It was locked. He quick- ly walked down the steps again, then went along the alleyway by the side of the house. He hesitated a moment. Everything was quiet. He climbed in through the pantry window as. he had before. There he stood still, listened. The house seemed utterly quiet. In a little while he was walking noiselessly along the second-floor corridor toward the rear. He stopped just outside Stacker’s room, his ear close to the door. : There were no voices, nothing to indicate that there was anyone in the room. Stacker, no doubt, had left in response to the phone call. And the officers would have nothing to wait there for. In a moment, Joe grasped the knob, turned it, pushed. The room was in darkness. He closed the door again. He jabbed the light button. There was no one in the room. He made for the divan, The handbag was there! A moment later he was walking quickly out of the room, carrying the handbag ; down the stairs to the front door. He snapped off the night latch, opened the door, peered out cautiously. There was still no one in sight. He was out on the sidewalk and walking briskly down the street in a few sec- onds—down toward the corner where’ Louis had killed Slausen an hour or so before. OE was breathing easier now. He was within a step or two of the corner. So he had slipped through, after all! He was thinking again of guy we’re looking for Mary, of the wedding in the morning, of their life together, of— A large man emerged from the shadows, then another. The two men were directly in front of him. He found that he could not pass them, and he stopped. One of them turned a flashlight on. “Say, Bill,” said one of them, with a note of surprise, “this looks like the 1? “Yeah,” said the other. “The guy with the handbag. Come along with us!” you! Where to?” “Headquarters,” said the man. Joe was simply swept along. The two detectives had a car around the corner. They seemed to be having fun kidding him. “Help the guy with the handbag, Bill,” said the one who took the wheel. Joe moved his hand back. “No,” he protested. “T’1l—~” But the one called Bill took the handbag from him, put it carefully in the back of the car. Then he got in with Joe. In a few minutes they were walking into a stone building. And before long they were sitting in a bare-looking office. They were both looking him over, intently, from his soft felt hat to his small-sized shoes. “Yeah,” said one of them. “He an- swers the description, all right, Bill.” “Sure he does,” said Bill, who was staring at Joe. “You ain’t denying it, are you?” Joe stammered: “But I—” “Wait a minute.” The phone bell . had interrupted. The detective called Bill reached for the instrument, listened, chuckled, said “okay” sev- eral times, then hung up, grinned at the other detective, and turned to Joe again. “You ain’t denying you seen that killing?” Joe’s lips moved, but he couldn’t talk. “Lemme help you,” said the other detective. “It was this way. You was walking along, toting your handbag, Joe found his voice: “With — with : ale comicbhooks. Vie Px]