10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

ie See mi « yy, A FAP RR REA t RY AED les i) : A . a AY 54 hi f weet ® i Ai ATO AS A, wy \ K PS ES (eet ane fi es A by ny hn : re pe q ? ) A i cae ; HT een ey iid through the fog, moving with ease up the steep hill leading to the Danvers Hotel. For several minutes neither the man nor the woman spoke. He was concentrating on a code cable- gram which he held in his hand. The woman peered out into the mists, a smile on her red lips. “T had a rather fortunate meeting in the luggage room,” she said at last. “No. Paul Hammond.” The man hurriedly put his cable- grams away. “How did you work it?’ he asked. _ “T didn’t. He did it for me. It was perfect. Of course I told him that I had come out by plane. And Dan—” “Max, please, and you’d better make it Ulrich, just for practice, Nevel.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and paused to survey his face. “You look much better shaved than with that horrible beard,” she re- marked. The man shrugged, then went on. “You recognized his photograph and called him by name?” he asked. She nodded. “I don’t think Paul Hammond is quite the fool you say he is, my friend,” she began. “I saw suspicion in his eyes.” “Did you try the letter-figure code on him?” “Of course not. Am [| an idiot? That’s the most important thing we have, but I’ve got to be sure he’ll an- swer. We don’t know the reply, and I'll have to get him off guard to get it. That is one thing we must have.” “T’ll leave that to you, Bet—” “Nevel, please!” She glanced to- ward the driver. “Don’t be afraid of him,” Max Ul- rich replied. “That’s Harolds. He leased that house you selected near the waterfront.” The woman nodded. For a while she peered out into the fog, her eyes “Did you make arrangements to get on the staff at the Danvers?’ “Of course. Oscar, whom I knew in New Orleans, is headwaiter. He thinks I am a G-man watching Sefior Pombal and his crowd.” “How about Miss X, my double in Pittsburgh?’ she asked. “T’ve told you, my dear, that ev- erything has been arranged. She is being held ixeommunicado until this business is over. It cost a pretty penny.” “Such things always do. Well, so long, Danny. Please see that there are no chloral drops in my wine this evening.” Max Ulrich smiled. The ear had stopped on the side of the hill just before it reached the top upon which stood the Danvers. The fog encom- passed them. The ghost of a street ear clanged by, but they gave it no heed Then Max Ulrich turned and melted into the haze. Nevel Nason took up the speaking “Give him time to reach the hotel first, Harolds,” she ordered. “I won- der what kind of a waiter Dan Da- vids will make?” “He does everything well, ma’am,” the chauffeur answered in the friend- lest of tones. “Yes,” the woman agreed. Her eyes hardened just a little, but Harolds did not see the expression, nor note the tightening of the in- carnadined lips. LTHOUGH the fog held San Francisco in its moist grip, slowing traffic to tortoise pace, Paul Hammond’s mind was racing at top speed. He faced a problem that might have the most sinister of objectives. Murder had already raised its gory head. And now he was working with a puzzle that baffled him completely. It was linked to the murder in a manner he could not define—linked, i The woman and man embraced. —= — Comicbooks: co Ss = = 5~