10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

man porter was delivering a message to her. Paul Hammond took a quick breath. Nevel Nason! He had heard her praises sung by some of the best agents in government circles. He had always pictured her as a woman of a years, but this was only a girl. “Pittsburgh !” the brakeman called. He heard a murmured word of apology as his companion arose and walked rapidly down the aisle, the telegram in her hand. AMMOND kept his seat. He was puzzled. Nevel Nason would not be so foolish as to use her own name in having telegrams addressed to her. It was like flying a flag. The name was known wherever govern- ment agents gather. He pushed back his chair and started back for his own car. The train was still motionless. As he neared the door, he saw a woman bolt from a compartment farther down the passageway. Then a shout rang through the car. Passengers ap- peared, staring in every direction. The girl of the dining-car reap- peared with the Pullman conductor, and pointed into her room. Her face was pale, but strangely calm. She glanced at him and raised one hand to push back her hair. Was that a signal? Hammond hur- ried forward, The girl and the con- ductor were staring into the room again, and Hammond looked over their shoulders. Upon the floor was the body of a woman, a dagger in her breast. : The conductor turned and barked a command to the ashen-faced porter, who dashed out and returned imme- diately with several uniformed police. Passengers were ordered to their compartments, bu. once more Paul Hammond flashed his railroad detec- tive badge and was allowed to re- main. The sergeant in charge made a quick examination of the body. Save several cents a pack! Try Avalon Cigarettes! Cellophane wrap. Untiermente = to the girl’s eyes. “Less than fifteen minutes,” he said, getting to his feet. “Who found her ?’ '“T did,” said Nevel Nason in a quiet voice. “Any idea who did it?” “Why, no. I—” “Tt couldn’t have been Miss Nason,” Paul Hammond broke in. “She and I had dinner together.” “T’m not charging her with any- thing,” the sergeant snapped, “but she’ll have to testify before the coro- ner. Get your bag’s, miss. “But, sergeant—”’ Hammond pro- tested. “You'll be lucky if we don’t make you stop over,” the policeman said. “Here, Cassidy, get this fellow’s name and address and where we can reach him. Get the names of any other pas- sengers who know anything about it. Find out—” } Paul Hammond did not hear the rest of the sergeant’s instructions. He was gazing at the head of the dead woman. It was covered with golden curls. They were not the tawny shade of Miss Nason’s, yet the murderer might have taken the girl for Nevel. “Who is she?” he asked Nevel in a low tone. “My maid, Ethel. She looks some- thing like me, and—” She stopped and her eyes hardened. Paul Ham- mond looked around. The tall, beard- ed stranger who had tried to enter his compartment was coming down the corridor. The young man’s glance returned They had nar- rowed, and a cold light had replaced the golden fiecks that warmed the hazel background. Max Ulrich paused LOOT OF THE LAUGHING GHOUL———————_15___ ™“. at his own compartment. His bearded — jaw dropped when he saw Nevel Nason standing in the aisle. AHhough the tinted glasses half-screened his eyes, Hammond saw them widen with surprise. For a moment, beard- — ed man and tawny-haired girl stared at each other. Then Max Ulrich —o =: ~ - ~ =. a= oy . ~ 2. . — am se - ‘ ] “i = ane mel ( & () - = (E(@) af “| \ i 4 = ge ara ze — watts “= nt = < = ns ~ ol | im mee >: ~ * 4 =~ ? _ ie