10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

a over the warehouse, tumbled down the trapdoor into the open conning tower of the submarine. Ulrich fired at Hammond, hit the = < young agent in the left arm. But Hammond’s fists lashed at Ulrich’s jaw. The blow knocked Ulrich six feet back across the warehouse. Harolds was running for his life toward the offices. Hammond’s bound hands dragged Ulrich into the office. The terrified Harolds was there, with his hands in the air. Five G-men were there, too. One of them cut Hammond’s bonds. Another was telephoning for a chemi- cal fire detachment. Martel street was alive with police cars. Hammond said: “Take these two out. The others are either dead or trapped down in the submarine. Get mond: out the harbor patrol and the flying detail. If the sub noses out, the air- _ planes can lay a depth bomb on it.” When the instructions were given, the G-man agent-in-charge told Ham- “We picked up Pombal as he was leaving his hotel. And Colonel be Ward gave me this address to hand to you.” Hammond quickly took the slip of paper. Then he rushed to the street and caught a cab. The address turned out to be a private residence, and the door was opened by Colonel Ward. The men shook hands briefly and then went up the stairs and into a smail __ living room. In it were two women, - guard over them. “What shall I do with them?” Col- __ onel Ward asked. Hammond’s eyes went from one to another. Seated side by side, their - likeness was not great. Both had tawny curls, pert mouths and eyes of light brown. “Have you anything to say to me?” The young man spoke to the woman ‘he had known as Nevel Nason. _ “Nothing but KL—47—ATU—93,” she answered in a soft voice, “And you?” he asked the ST he had known as Bette Langwell z Tyan a a pee aa ; ——— — = nL a er oe “4 ‘7. > alle Ss a =o a = Set re Sai ee =< ~ Ecaeee al <taies 1 = Hazel eyes, flecked with gold, looked frankly into his. “Anything to say, Miss Langwell?”’ She shook her head. “Put them both under arrest and hold them tcommuwsicado,” Ham- mond ordered. BLACK-ROBED figure whose features were screened by a mask faced a ring of upturned eyes. Only the eyes were visible, eager eyes which peered through slits. “Ten days ago, in New York, I told you the reason for these masks,” the man in the center began. “I said at that time that there might be a traitor in our ranks. I was right. There was then. There is, now.” A subdued murmur went around the circle, but no word was spoken. “The problem that has been worked out in this operation,” the chief of D-1 went on, “is one worth careful study. I flew out from New York, my- self, in order to be present at its ex- position, as I believe it one of the most complex and interesting cases I have ever encountered. It has two unusual features, and I am going to let the man who solved it explain his opera- tions.” The chief of the secret corps stepped to one side and made a ges- ture. Paul Hammond arose and took the center of the circle. His eyes trav- eled from one masked face to another. They paused at two slender figures seated opposite him, with a broad- shouldered form between, From the edge of two cowls, tawny curls peered out, but the faces were blotted out by velvet masks. “You are familiar with the case, my friends,” Hammond began, “so I won’t rehash the details. Sefor Pom- bal and the man known as Max UI- rich are under arrest and will be con- victed. Their execution is merely a matter of court routine.” The D-1 chief broke in: ‘There seems to be one great flaw in the case. The Laughing Ghoul has not been oe identified—and the secret hiding — €omicbooks.