10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

Tae HOARDER OF DEATH————————————‘—Yl lagged as though he wanted to waich the gruesome scene on the bed. The landlady stood firmly in the doorway. “It’s Potter’s Field for the poor lad if he’s broke, ain’t it?” she asked. “T’m afraid so,” Stone replied. “He was a nice-looking lad. You won’t have to bother about him, of- ficer. I’ll pay for his funeral. He ain’t got a friend in the world. He told me so last night. I know an undertaker who'll do the job cheap. That’s all right, ain’t it?” “It’s fine,” Stone told her. “We won’t have to take the body to the morgue. This is a clear case of sui- cide. You go ahead and call your un- dertaker. We’ll be through in a few minutes.” Stone drew a notebook and pencil from his pocket.. He began to write, knowing that spying eyes watched his every move. Stone stepped close to where the coroner worked. Idly his notebook sagged. He tapped it lightly with his pencil. The coroner looked at the page. “Don’t say anything,” he read. “Some one is watching us with field glasses and he may be able to read lips.” The coroner glanced up into Stone’s face. He bent over the body again so that anyone who watched could see only his broad back. “I thought I recognized you, cap- tain. This is murder, you know. This chap never shot himself and he wasn’t killed in this room, either. There’s no blood on the pillow to speak of and _ he’s been dead for hours. How shall I report it?” “You can tell me it’s suicide when you finish,” Stone kept his back to the window and he spoke very low. “‘Say it loudly so that any one who listens can hear. Hold up your report tem- porarily.” The coroner straightened up and began to replace his instruments, He picked up his bag and started for the door. “It’s suicide all right, officer,” he - ~ Jo ~ - ere SU ae ee ee. a said in a voice that could be heard out- side the room. “‘There’s no use in mak- ing a post mortem.” Stone held the door open for. him. The landlady and the roomer were half a dozen feet away. “This lady has promised to finance the funeral,” Stone told the doctor. “Tl report back to headquarters and we'll close the case.” OLEMNLY Stone took down the name of the landlady and the roomer and noted also the name that the dead man had given the woman. ~ He closed his notebook and headed for the front door. “That’s all there is to it,” he said. “It’s mighty white of you to bury him. That will save the city trouble and expense. Thanks.” He hurried down to the radio ear, got in and was driven off. “Turn the next corner—quick,” he directed and while the radio car pulled to a stop on a quiet street, Stone be- gan peeling off his uniform. Under- neath, decidedly wrinkled, he wore a civilian suit. A soft, wrinkle-proof hat was pulled down over his eyes. He got out of the car. “Go back to headquarters and tell Commissioner Halliday to have that truck ready. I'll phone as to where it must be left. Beat it, now, before some of those crooks show up and wonder what you’re stalled here for.” Stone watched the radio car pull away. He walked around the corner and slowly ambled by the house in which a dead man lay. As he passed it, the door opened and Welton ran down the steps. He walked briskly by Stone and paid him not the slightest attention. Skillfully Stone took up the chase. The roomer led him an easy trail. He entered a drug store and went directly to a phone booth. Stone squeezed into the adjoining one and made a pretense of phoning. He could hear, faintly, the words of the other man. “This is Welton. Yeah, everything cS co Eomicboo a ; - oa =? ansee oe Se on eh I ee gS ge ee ee ee Sar SS