10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

LOOT OF THE LAUGHING GHOUL—————————33 TSD ened, but she kept herself in con- trol. “Mr. Hammond, there’s so little time. Don’t you understand? These people are going to kill you unless—” “Unless what?’ “Unless you help yourself and let me help you. If you’ll only—” “Answer some cryptic cross-word puzzle I don’t know anything about?” “You know what I mean, Mr. Ham- mond.” He smiled up into her eyes. “Really, [ don’t,” he insisted. Her gaze hardened. “Danny,” she called down the stairs in commanding tone. “Danny, come here.” There was a clatter on the steps. “Take this stubborn idiot and hold him till we come back from the Rock,” she ordered. “The fool will do noth- ing. I am through with him.” Max Ulrich looked at his prisoner. “T’m sorry,” he said, “but you heard the orders.” “There doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it,” Hammond answered. “What would you do? You have had much experience, Danny Davids.” He was trying to engage the man in conversation, to use up precious minutes. The words Hammond had spoken into the transmitter of the secret circuit would be recorded in wax in his room at the Danvers. If the radio operator reproduced them - immediately, help would soon be on the way. He must gain time. “T’m sorry, but we cannot wait,” Ulrich replied: “Will you answer one question?” Hammond asked. “Perhaps.” “Is she really Nevel Nason or—” “That’s something only she can an- swer,” Ulrich broke in, “and, unfor- tunately, you'll never have the op- portunity to ask her. Come, my friend, we must go.” Hammond still hung back. He said: “You and Sefor Pombal have worked very neatly to break out the Laughing Ghoul. Here’s the way I figure the business: The Ghoul and Pombal were running dope and slaves between New York and Rio. Things got hot for the Ghoul. He ducked out —with all the cash. The law caught up with him in some way—and he went to Alcatraz under an assumed name,” “Very interesting,’ Ulrich mur- mured. “You are digging deeper into a grave every time you open that mouth of yours.” “Sefior Pombal wanted his money,” went on Hammond, edging closer to the transmitting instrument, “and - the only way he could get it was to get the Ghoul off the Rock. And you brought that message to Pombal.” Max Ulrich looked sharply at Ham- mond. “You seem very definite about that.” “Very,” agreed Hammond. At that moment Harolds came into the office smoking a cigarette. He put the cigarette down in an ash tray. “Everything’s ready, chief. When the spick gets here, we’ll shove off.” Hammond picked up the cigarette with his bound hands and put it into his mouth. The natural ease with which he did it attracted no attention from the two men. Max Ulrich jerked his head toward the warehouse, pushed his gun closer to Hammond. All three _ started through the doorway. Harolds hesi- tated a moment, then yelled: “That bum chiseled my butt!” Hammond kept right on walking, straight across the warehouse floor. Ulrich was right behind him and to his left. Hammond took the cigarette from his mouth, held it between thumb and middle finger, then shot it straight toward the petrol tanks. The glowing butt fell short of the tanks and landed on the petrol- soaked floor. A sheet of flame raced over the boards, hungrily enveloped the tanks. Even before Ulrich and Harolds could comprehend what had hap- pened, one of the tanks went up with a terrific roar. A river of fire washed ECOmMIEbOOKs.com —