10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

Cats Mite MURTY PR ETS Vel) Sere aad Aer Cosa NPE Tice 4 PAYY Cap RAN Pat PWR RON ULL 8 | ‘4 Ale oy ry ot Rae [Sale mt Y wd See . i Pt ' i ‘ b 4 y ie A e Abs 1 ta ie wal Pi Ne a tee? Py ivy Pr Fit i 5 ) $ ru Ti yy 7 Vie ale ’ we vhs f “a ") 1 ve ou TA Na Ne aa a Oels Pay ae eg rh vee ue) Od Tita. Ne he A 4 ‘ ‘ahh u take was the most natural thing in - the world, yet he knew that the fur- tive opening of the door had not been through error. It told Hammond that his enemies were already Seeking to make contact with him. He. must find out who they were and what their mission was. His first move was to prepare his room for the seareh he knew it would be given. He opened his brief case, It was filled with papers and letters con- cerning shipments - x) tifornia wines to New York and Philadelphia. With the papers ready for his ad- versaries te examine, Paul Ham- mond lighted another eigarette. He gazed into the blue smoke that floated upward, trying to recall the bearded face that had been thrust into his room, But the features eluded him. ‘Kven the shadowed eyes behind the tinted glasses were unfamiliar. Yet those hairy hands had stirred a vi- brant chord in his memory, He had seen hands like that before. Where? He could not remember. The hair reached the last joint of the fingers, forming a.small dark patch just back of the nail. Few hands were like that. He summoned the Pullman conduc- tor and showed him a railroad de- tective’s badge. He always carried one - for just such inquiries. He asked the name -of the man oecupying Number Eight. “It was booked in the name of Mr. Max Ulrich, sir,’’ the conducter in- formed him. “Ulricht” Hammond repeated the name, [t meant nothing to him. Outside he heard the eall of the dining-car steward announcing that dinner was being served, Hammond’s mind was still filled with thoughts of his bearded visitor when he reached the dining-car. It was nearly filled. “This way, sir,” an official said. He followed the man automatically. A chair was pulled back and he was seated. He picked up the menu and studied it. Then he looked up to see < > ins flecked with tiny par- ef gold, gazing into his. He Ce te eee Ss ~—"e en ee ee stared at a halo of tawny hair that framed a beautiful face. Curls long enough to have fallen below an ob- literating mask clung to her neck. There was something breath-tak- ing about this girl, something that recalled moonlight in Miami, when Hammond had been special agent for a state prosecutor. He looked at her over his menu card, speculatively. He wanted to gay, “Haven't we met somewhere, dined and danced?” But he thrust the thought aside. It was too old an open- ing. The girl looked up at this mo- ment. “Tt isn’t like the. Flower Limited, is it?” Hammond asked. : “The Flower Limited?” A puzzled look came into the gold-fiecked eyes. “Yes, the one for Miami.” She smiled and shook her head. “You must be mistaken,” she said. “I have never been to Miami on the Flower Limited.” Paul Hammond grinned. “I’m sor- ry,” he oa ieee “Please pardon me. be I “Of course. It’s the most natural thing in the world,” The young man’s glance hardened. Those were the very words he had said, not half an hour ago, to the bearded man who had entered his compartment so furtively. He won- dered if she had heard those words and was cleverly prodding him, Per- haps she was an aecomplice of the mysterious Max Ulrich. Yet that couldn’t be. He had seen those tawny curls in the bluetighted secret cham- ber of D-1, Still, Ulrich might have been one of the masked, black-robed figures, But it didn’t make sense, un- ‘less the chief was setting one opera- tive to watch another. “Yd better watch my step,” Ham- mond thought, and said aloud, “It’s awtully decent of you to—” “Telegram for Miss Nason! Tele- gram fer—” Phe girl glanced up and raised her hand, In another moment, the Pull- comicbooks