10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

and rasp of voices from the direction © of the offices. Then there was a sud- den, ominous silence. Hammond flicked out his gun. He knew that his presence in the warehouse had been discovered. And he was doubly sure when he heard the packing case he had climbed on scrape against the outside wail. Some one had spotted the packing case. Hammond stood ready, waiting for the opening of hostilities. That came sooner than he had ex- pected. A bullet whanged off the rim of the nearest metal tank. The gun sound had been muffled by a Maxim silencer. Then Max Ulrich’s angry voice came from one of the offices: “Be careful of those tanks!” Hammond flicked his wrist and threw a shot toward the voice. There was no silencer on his gun, and the roar of it filled the SE ap Ulrich growled: “Take him, you fools! He’s alone.” Hammond creuched down by the tanks, and slowly moved down the line turning on the petcock of each tank. Then he rounded the last tank, and waited. Petrol fumes bit his nos- trils. And, in the tense silence, he was again conscious of the water lap- ping the hull of the submarine. He could feel that men were closing in on him. But he crouched there, wait- ing for one thing to happen. It did. A man suddenly gasped. There was a scraping sound, and a jarring thud. Hammond fired at the thud. A fright- ful gurgling sound told him that he had scored, Then he calmly waited for the next of his foes to lose balance on the slippery petrol-coated floor. And while he waited, a lashing blow came out of nowhere and banged the side of his head. There was a sudden yell—and men swarmed all over him. The gun was torn from his grasp. Max Ulrich called from the office: “Bring him in here! You know what to do with that clumsy dope who got himself shot. ... then all of you get down in the ‘sub—and stay there. Move!’ -100T-9F THE LAUGHING GHO L— When Hammond was fan into the office, he said: Danny. So we meet again. And I learned that you plan to murder me.” “TI may find it necessary,” said Max Ulrich. Turns of a rope bound Hammond’s hands. He was thrust into a chair, and his legs were tied. Max Utrith sat down. “We've seen quite a little of seek other lately, haven’t we?’ the man began. Hammond nodded. “But this is our last meeting,” Ul- rich continued. “lm sorry. I had looked forward to seeing quite a little of you before you went—into retirement.” “T knew you had that in mind, but I have other plans,” Ulrich retorted, | a velvet softness coming into his voice. Hammond eyed the man narrow-. ly, saying: “So you’re Danny, eh? I once heard of a Danny Davids—in Chicago, I believe. He was a cheap heel who got mixed up in the murder of a night-club dancer. He skipped town. Must have name—”’ “Your words sadden me,” rich broke in. ““‘They make your pass- ing an absolute necessity. I had hoped to avoid anything quite so drastic, but it is beyond my power now to dodge a painful duty.” “They hang murderers in Cali- fornia,”” Hammond reminded him. The smile returned to Ulrich’s aris- tocratic face. “I have been told by | competent legal talent,” he replied, “that in order to establish murder, it is necessary to have a corpus de-- ee 3 licti.”’ Hammond nodded, prompted curiously. “And so—with the aid of a very — oS: clever confrére,” the man went on, a rather neat plan has been evolv “That’s interesting. May I ask—”’ ¥ “Of course. Our plan is to sur- round you with some tins of T.N.T. - When it is detonated, there will, be a “Well, hello— = changed his = “And so?” he ~ s\n ~~ af ad ats “y e ‘<7 . ‘ « iW ton’ yey le eel, Wore beer oe iy . ar ily 7 e < yer Sedee fF YM Ay ite aA is.