Pulp Fiction, 1938 · page 32 of 116
10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 32: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# 10-Story Detective, Page 30 (Story Prose) This page contains prose narrative from what appears to be a hardboiled detective story. The protagonist, Hammond, investigates a waterfront warehouse, breaking in through a window to discover rows of large metal cylinders labeled as petrol tanks. Upon entering, he hears suspicious water sounds beneath the warehouse floor and discovers a trapdoor with an iron ring. The narrative emphasizes tension and danger as Hammond confronts what seems to be part of a criminal conspiracy involving enemy agents.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
his pocket, Hammond hurried to the porte cochére and again summoned a taxicab to take him to the waterfront. Although the fog still enshrouded the _-—s @iity, the gray vapors that screened re the operations of enemy agents were thinning rapidly before Hammond’s eyes. He was sure of his ground new. He was certain of his foes’ objeetive, and their method of attack was begin- ning to appear. He would soon con- firm his suspicions. His first step --~—s must be to thwart his adversary’s ~~ plot and then capture the criminals. _-—~—*-—s«d# Reaching Martel street, he dis- missed his eab. Then he swiftly made his way toward the gaunt warehouse. The structure was right on the water's edge. In fact, the warehouse extended well out over the water. Hammond circled three sides of the __ plaee, and found it much larger than he had suspected. On the third side of the warehouse ae he saw a small grimy window set about six feet up from the ground. He searched the adjoining lot till he ee selected a discarded packing case. This he stealthily pulled over under the window, and mounting the case quietly went to work on the window’s ae lock. It was a matter of seconds be- — fore he was slowly inching up the _ window. = _ Qpening the window was the dan- —«gerouss part, The glass was so grimy that he couldn’t see through it—and that sereened his movements. But the fog was not dense enough to black-out . his silhouette when he opened the window. It was a chance he’d have ‘to take. And the thought of Max Ul- _ ¥ieh, Sefor Pombal and the South oe American’s band of gunmen was not over the sill and oad on the - Thrusting a second automatic into mn ane ort again close the — ba p> rae - mi Se let Zife es — ete nS = ee = 2 es = OER Se oe ee aa (es ee z > - : = soem : ae -, —*'y ~ ~< oP _ ™ * = is oS - - - io ~~ . ty a = . —. a a ae ae ~ . - ae - 7 i Cs ae = ~ Poe 5 Tn ,' wee. ns a — <= ate “= ant — = ——— on — se See, 25 Via a we TE ST = coe ee ~ Se ie: “< re aa rn a a = oe > x ae Peat MO = Eo oa eg = ome: 3 - ae = = ~~ es 3 = ae > ae 2 a eS <= awe = “~. we Pndthgtiy aa in <= ots ingind mw = Bae a Ss 23 ~ eS = = - = Sars 2 PO ee = = Sei es <—— oe goer oo .- s< > “ys a <a ¢ o <a. “ - es 25% > ~~ ~ » me “wn < ; o window. Then he lowered himself to the floor of the warehouse. There was no challenge; no crash of gunfire; no twinkling knife thudding into his back. The young agent heaved a vast sigh of relief. It was some moments be- fore his eyes became accustomed to the gloom of the warehouse. And when they did, he made out a row of huge metal cylinders. “Petrol tanks,” he murmured. “Now, what the hell—” He moved closer and discovered that each cylindrical tank had a pet- cock near the bottom. Suddenly, a door slammed en the Martel street side of the warehouse. Three-quarters of the Martel side was walled off into offices with one street door; leaving the rest of the warehouse a barnlike, silent void. Hammond crouched down, swing- ing his gun to eover the offices. And it was while in this tense, strained position that he first noticed the strangeness of the water sounds be- neath the floor of the warehouse. Those sounds didn’t have the dull lap- ping noise of water washing around rotting stanchions. The sound was more like water lapping against something metallic and hollow. Ham- mond took the chance of whisking his flash about the floor. The white beam momentarily flicked over the iron ring of a trap- door. The ring was about three feet from where Hammond crouched. He put away his flash and gun, and, using both hands on the ring, noiselessly raised the trap. Fog-clouded daylight coming in under the water-side of the shed dully reflected on smooth steel Hammond stared at the thing for several moments. It was a baby sub- marine; its conning tower open and directly under the trapdoor. Ham- mond lowered the trap. There was a hard, tight smile on his face. Max Ulrieh and Sefior Pombal had planned ; ae — a ae : at ed 3 ~ x ax : mai 2 =< whe =. Sa re nr ir gy imhanle 4 Kae Se ee et SD PN LN Na ND > ge a “4 a =’ aS ge? ee Ss — r