Pulp Fiction, 1938 · page 104 of 116
10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 104: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This page contains **story prose** from a pulp detective magazine titled "10-Story Detective" (visible as a running header). The narrative depicts a detective named Norvale investigating a murder in a museum. The text describes Norvale discovering that a mounted taxidermied panther conceals the body of a woman named Brenda Ewing, then being confronted by someone named Weston in the darkened museum. The passage culminates in Norvale accusing Weston of murdering Brenda Ewing, his ward, to maintain control of her estate. The story involves elements of crime mystery and suspense typical of early pulp detective fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
q Pye nme, ‘al at i ; f e¥ : t \ ‘ i] Sod PIS Oy le : t 0 ut ‘ \ : ' in re 7 reue’, wy tai 4 | y a am 102 tailed deer and stalking panther, and stopped just outside the workroom. He could hear no sound now, but he knew somehow that a living person was in there with the corpse. Swiftly he stepped into the little room, and crouched. From his left there was a sudden, quick flurry, and a dark shape slammed into him. Two hands were clamped about his throat, the fingers contracting mercilessly. Norvale swung the automatic in a wide, vicious arc, and brought it down on his attacker’s head. There was a gasp, the fingers opened spasmodicai- ly, and the hands fell away from his throat. A body slumped to the floor. Norvale stood up, found the switch, and turned on the light. Parker lay on the floor, unconscious. The blood was coming freely from a nasty cut in the top of his head. Evidently he had doubled back into the museum realiz- ing the futility of escape from the guarded grounds. Norvale let him lie there, stepped purposefully past the body of Doctor Loring, and picked up from the work bench a sharp-edged skinning knife. He went out into the museum, climbed into the enclosure where the panther was stalking the deer. He turned the mounted cat over on its back, and slit the skin along the seam where it had been sewed, from the edge of the lower lip to the tip of the tail. His eyes gleamed as he uncovered the plaster mould under the skin. With the edge of the knife he chipped at the plaster till chunks of it fell away. What he saw underneath caused him to work frantically till he had gotten most of the plaster off. When he finished, his eyes were bleak. For the plaster had covered the | dead body of Brenda Ewing! And suddenly, the outside door of the museum room slammed shut, and the lights went out. He whirled, saw nothing in the darkness. 10-STORY DETECTIVE Out.of the corner of His eye he could see into the workroom, which was still lit. The body of Doctor Loring still lay in the center, and Parker was huddled near the doorway, stirring feebly. Norvale picked up his gun, which he had laid on the floor beside him. Some one was in the museum, mov- ing quietly—someone whe had put out the light. Why? Norvale started to move away from beside the body of Brenda Ewing. But a flashlight clicked on, bathing him in light. It came from close by him. Whoever was in the room had crept up. Norvale leaped aside; and at the same time fired at the flashlight. An involuntary oath escaped him. He was a dead shot, and should have put that light out. But the gun was loaded with blanks. There was a chuckle from the one who held the flashlight. Norvale stopped alongside one of the black- tailed deer. There was no use dodging, the light was following his every move. There was a click—the sound of a safety catch being shoved down on an automatic. Norvale said: “Weston?” There was another chuckle. “How did you guess?” Norvale was sparring for time. “I didn’t—until I tried to shoot this automatic.” “But you came back here to open up the panther?” “I knew that Loring couldn’t have done such a poor job. It had to be either you or Parker. And I recalled that you had often helped Loring.” “T am sorry,’ Weston said silkily, “that my skill at taxidermy wasn’t greater. It might not have been neces: sary, then, to kill you.” Norvale exclaimed accusingly, “You killed Brenda Ewing — your own ward—so you could remain in control of her estate until it’s settled. comicbooks (e(e)