10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

~ a ; = = <2 a a = he ey + a fm {Sm os =F aarti Fae ent aoe A ae Pe Oe a ease SE oer Ces —— 3 3 Oat > en 7 * a ete mene —— : Oe tie ee ~— = : =< w — a € ; — i " : ~~ Nek Ee $ = > ’: = > 2 : “ eo “ —— cgain the cushions, “Hard hit?’ Hammond asked anx- iously. . “T guess this is it,” muttered the _ reporter. “Funny—to go out like _ this... . Bend closer, . . . Listen.... the Stone—” His breathing was more strained. Ghastly gurgles came from his throat. 3 “The Stone—what does that - mean?’ Hammond dropped to his knees as he saw the dying man’s lips - move. “The Stone—and the Laughing Ghoul. ... Don’t you understand? ... The Stone—is the Rock—” Another spasmodic gurgling rose from deep gn the man’s throat, and then a dry rattle. Arthur Haycox had died be- _ fore he had completed his message, _ but its import sent the blood rushing _ through Hammond’s veins. CHAPTER IV THE GOLDEN-EYED GIRL R a moment, Paul Hammond = stood spell-bound. Then he heard . the clump of heavy footsteps behind him, and turned to see two policemen rushing toward him. “What hap- -—spened?” they demanded, when they ~~ gaw the limp form of Arthur Haycox sprawled across the seat. “Hold-up, or something like that,” ae - Hammond answered. “I think I hit one of them.” One of the policemen drew his elec- tric torch and flashed it on the cobbled a He found a splotch of blood, | and marks where a wounded man had been dragged away, but the trail Se = Saaiickly ended. “They drove off, Here’s where their = car stopped,” he called through the _-'There was more clangor from the =e 2 "cable car. One of the policemen “No, They looked something like South Americans, but—” “Say, what the—” The policeman bent, to look at Ham- mond’s shirt front. The immaculate white was marred with powder burns and a large round hole. “You’ve been hit! Hurt bad?” “No. I have a bullet-proof vest.” “Bullet-proof vest—two gats? Say, brother, we’re going to have to take you in. This looks a lot different right now.” But before the police could take Paul Hammond to the Hall of Justice, the cars which had driven Carter and Ward down the hill re-appeared through the fog. They, too, had heard the shots, and had circled back. Ham- mond flashed a signal to Carter as he joined the growing circle around the taxicab, and the major drew one of the policemen aside. After that, there . was no further talk of arrest. “Would you mind going down with the body?” Hammond asked Carter a few minutes later. “There’s some- thing I’ve got to look after right away.” “All right, but—” The major’s eyes flicked to where Nevel Mason was alighting from her cab. “T’ll look after her,”” Hammond told him. “Have Ward take that other girl away. I don’t want to have anyone around.” A moment later, Nevel appeared. Her eyes, fixed on Paul Hammond, immediately saw the powder marks and hole in his shirt front. “You’ve been wounded?” gasped. He shook his head and grinned. “Gangsters and kings are not the only ones to wear armor,” he remarked. The cabs and police were moving away. The cable car passed on. Before Nevel realized it, she and Paul Ham- mond were alone in the thick fog. Her face was raised to his, her eyes filled with inquiry, as they stood beneath the glowing gas light. “It’s only a step back to the ho- she tel,” he told her, “and I thought per- _