10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

kn e > . 2 SP Oe ee gE en eS ee = ee SGP ig ee LOOT OF THE LAUGHING GHOUL———————2s__ haps there was something you wanted to say to me.” “T’ve said all I dared,” she mur- mured. “All right. Shall we go?” She hesitated, staring around, try- ing to penetrate the thick blanket of mist that surrounded them. Out be- yond the range of their vision they could hear footsteps. Then a voice called in guarded accents. Nevel clutched Hammond’s arm and started up the hill. “Come,” she whispered, “They’re still here,” “Thought they might be,” the man answered. ‘““That’s why I wanted you along—for protection.”’ “Hiding behind my skirts?” she mocked. “No, but—” “Then suppose we decide to work together.” A certain quality in her voice made him look in her direction but the fog was so thick that her fea- tures seemed blurred. “T don’t understand,” he parried. “I believe I once said—KL—47— ATU—$93.,” Hammond glanced at her again. In spite of the fog, he caught a flash of eagerness In her eyes, Once more the words of the chief in the D-1’s dark- ened room flashed through his mind. The game was desperate. The stakes were human lives, He could not take a chance. “T don’t believe I understand you,” he said, HE girl was silent. Then a peal of laughter rang out. Paul Ham- mond started. Mirth was bizarre at that moment, That laugh must be a signal, a warning to some unseen accomplice. “What's funny?” he demanded. “It seems to me that—” There was a rush of footsteps through the mists, and Paul Ham- mond’s words were cut short as a ponderous figure leaped upon him. He felt an impact between his shoul- der blades. A knife bit through his Se ¢ oP pi ee ne Se YOR ee ek Pe ee toh eS Ce A eR OE Ea ~: ee ante CT ng ae =, topcoat and evening clothes, but stopped when it encountered the meshes of his bullet-proof vest, Hammond twisted around and grappled with his assailant. For the second time within half an hour, he - had been saved from death by the bullet-proof vest the chief had given . him, D-1 had realized what he would face when he reached San Francisco. Hammond tried to get a glimpse of his adversary, but he had been at- tacked between two street lamps, and the enfolding fog blotted out all light. “Give me your gun,” the man growled to Nevel Mason. “Here, Danny,” she said. The knife clattered to the concrete sidewalk. Hammond struggled to hold his ad- versary where he could not use the weapon, but it was futile. There was a roar like the sound of a cannon, so close was the exploding weapon, A blow knocked the breath from Ham- mond’s body, but the bullet-proof vest held back the lethal ball. He relaxed, sinking forward, and his opponent struggled free. fe “Did you kill him?’ the w asked. . : “Got him all right.” The shrill sound of a police whistle came from the encircling mists. The shot had been heard by unseen patrol- men, “Come, Danny, we must go,” the woman urged. Paul half-raised himself. The woman saw, and snatched the pistol from the man’s hand. Scalding flame raked across Ham- mond’s scalp. Then deeper darkness descended, and he fell back, senseless. But even as he sank, he fought to:-re- gain consciousness. He must act—act swiftly. He could not die—not yet. The dazzling rays of an electric torch held close to his face brought back consciousness. He looked up to see a ring of faces around him. Two policemen stood at his feet. Beside him knelt a woman with tawny curls. The wavering beam of one of the ee a GAAS ; a tthe Ns mys Wes lglg ON'tt i UST M¢ (pees to 7 aA PLAS Pree 4 - URN ’ apres) Aa tae aay