10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

Seamstress to Satan By Eric Lennox Author of “Double-Cross Getaway,” ete. Malthus was counting on those little skeins of white thread, d sewn by the pretiy hands of a girl, as 2 bloody skein that would help him bilk her of a fortune. But he didn’t know that those white threads could draw blood trom the wrong victim. ALTHUS was handsome, without doubt; handsome in a weak sort of way, which was why the women liked him. There was a little sweat now on his well-modeled face; his shifty little eyes darted around the office, awestruck, He hadn’t expected to find Joe Ring- ler’s place as sumptuous as this. Rich mahogany desk, thick, soft carpet, expensive pictures—even if they were a bit loud. Ringler, massive, wide-shouldered, with a little thatch of red hair, a bat- tered nose and a square chin, sat be- hind the desk and scowled, barked, “Well, talk up. Mike Larsen told me you had a proposition. Say your piece.” There was an edge of con- tempt in his voice. Malthus wet his lips. “Sure, Mr. Ringler.” He tried a weak grin. “I—I was just a little surprised—” “To see Joe Ringler in a layout like this? Why not? Suppose I got a rep as a tough guy—can’t I live like a gentleman? All right, never mind,” as he saw Malthus groping for con- ciliating words. “I’m busy. What’s the proposition—you want somebody knocked off?” Malthus nodded. He rubbed his hands together nervously. } “Who?” Ringler rapped the ques- tion at him. “{I—I don’t know his name.” Ringler started to laugh, then stopped abruptly. He half rose. “Lis- ten, you. If you’re trying to pull comedy—” Malthus put out his hand. “No, no! I tell you, Mr. Ringler, I don’t know his name. But he’s a cinch, and there’s plenty dough in it for both of us!” Ringler subsided, looking at him queerly. He shrugged. “All right, give us the low-down.” Malthus talked eagerly. ‘I know a woman. She’s—in love with me.” The big man said scornfully. “Yeah. She would be. That’s how you make your livmg, ain’t it? Just a gigolo, huh?” “If you want to put it that way.” Ringler shrugged. “Okay, g0 ahead. I just wanted to get you placed.” Malthus went on. “This girl is a singer. She’s been going around with a certain criminal—a big shot. He re- cently pulled a heavy job—about two hundred thousand dollars in cold cash, oa he gave her the money to hide for Ringer leaned forward. “Two hun- dred G’s, huh? So what?” Malthus smiled. “I told you this was a big deal. Well, as I said, this girl is im love with me in a big way. She wants to take this dough, and go places with me. But she’s afraid of what this big shot will do. She says =. | ' > ECOMICc < 7 < - | (| (ee > : ; Sn ee By am mass <7 ee “ ‘ = — mo ° Pa a Sie et ine > a = ge = - — >