10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

53 ——_________10-STORY DETECTIVE I smiled. “After you, Gaston,” r said. He scowled. “What do you know about the deaths of them two—” He saw me shake my head. “All right,” he grumbled, “Ill speak, but I’m taking your word for it you won't spill this to the cops, okay?” He leaned forward and spoke softly, but intensely. His name, he said, was Charley Gammer, and briefly, his story, after sorting his jigsawed statements and placing them in their proper posi- tions, was this. Two months ago, while taking a noon-hour stroll, he’d been wounded in the abdomen when he got in the line of fire from an escaped criminal seeking to avoid capture by a detective. He slurred over that as unimportant, his real trouble came later. He experienced dull heavy pains in his abdomen after he was supposed to be healed, and becoming dissatis- fied with the lack of aid from his phy- sician he had gone to a Dr. Hard- wicke, an X-ray specialist. Ten min- utes after he left the doctor’s office, Hardwicke either jumped or fell from his office window. So the next eve- ning, after work, Gammer went to Doctor Plunkett. “And the same thing occurred to Doetor Plunkett,” I suggested. Gammer nodded and watched me anxiously. “Yeah, he splattered on the pave- ment, too,” Gammer said. “I can’t go to the cops and tell them this. They'll book me on suspicion as sure as I’m here.”’ “Obviously,” I remarked. “You were the last person to see the doc- roel alive.” Gammer’s face went white. “You don’t believe that,” he said hoarsely. “It must be the guys who are follow- ing me. I first noticed I was being followed on my way to work this morning. I’ve been followed all day. What do you make of it? “What do you know about them deaths? Am I in the clear? Should I— I go to the cops and tell them? Do you think the cops are tailin’ me?” “No,” I said, and meant it. “If they knew about you, they’d have enough to grill you. They’d pick you up.” I stood up. “‘You’d better leave now. For your own safety you’d better not be seen with me.” I motioned to the coat and his eyes widened. “By the way,” I inquired, “who is your doc- tor? I mean the one you thought was not helping you. Has anything hap- pened to him?” “No,” he muttered. “But—” The phone rang then. It was the operator. “Two men just asked for your room number,” she informed me, “Send them up,” I said. “They’ve already started,” she re- plied. Gammer moved quickly toward the door. “Expectin’ some one? I’d better leave.” “Wait,” I called as he hurried out the door. “What's the name of your—” UT HE was running down the hall. He just about made it around the corner before the eleva- tor doors clanged in the opposite di- rection. Two men strode down the hallway. I stepped back in the room and quickly took a small automatic from my grip and placed it in my side pocket, I had my hands in my pockets and so did the men when they entered. “Chilly, isn’t it?” I remarked. “Too bad all of us forgot our gloves.” I knew both of them by sight. They had been palsy-walsies of a gem thief, Paul Keller, whom I’d heard was dead. “Hello, Matt,” I greeted the taller man, Matt Stellman, I turned to his partner, the man with limp-looking ears that sagged. “Hello, Droopy.” But all Droopy Donlan did was scowl. “How do you know us?’ he grumbled. “Skip it, he does,” said Stellman. He grinned at my concealed hands. GComicbooks (E(0)