10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

9g ——____—_—_———_——_10-STORY DETECTIVE lection some time ago, didn’t he? One that he valued highly? A crossbow, wasn’t it? And he blamed the serv- ants?” Hawkins’s face reddened. “I’m very certain that there was some mistake, sir,” he protested. “I assure you that I am very careful about those under me, sir. None of them could have taken it, sir!” “Then who did?” MacFarlane asked sharply. “How about Mr. Speer? Do you think that he could possibly have appropriated the article?” PEER was on his feet in an in- stant. ‘What do you mean?” he blazed angrily. “Are you accusing me of stealing things? Insulting me in my own house? I’ll not stay here and listen to you!” “You'll stay and like it!” MacFar- lane rasped, “Now shut up! Hawkins, answer my question!” “I—I’m not sure, sir,” the butler stammered miserably. “I never hap- pened to think of it that way, sir. Of course, Mr. Speer could very easily have secured the weapon, but he does not care for such things, sir.” “Well I think that he did, this time!”” MacFarlane declared grimly. He pointed an accusing finger at Speer. “Sheriff, you better cuff this man. He’s the murderer you’re look- ing for!” “You’re crazy!’ Speer exploded. “I didn’t do it! I couldn’t do it! I was at the experimental! station when Bush- ner was killed! I can prove that!” “So can I,” MacFarlane declared harshly. ‘““You were at the radio con- trols, broadcasting Death’s ewn hell- ish laughter! And that laughter killed a man who thought himself secure be- hind locked doors!” Speer paled. ‘‘Prove it!’ manded in a forced whisper. “T’m going to!’ MacFarlane stated emotionlessly. ‘“Let’s reconstruct the scene—” A deep thick silence smothered the he de- room as the lanky ranger stepped to the radio. Every eye was glued on his least movement. “Y’m Bushner,’ MacFarlane ex- plained. “I’m tuning in on Speer’s broadcast, Remember, I’m doing so because of appointment. What do I hear? I hear a voice whispering to me out of the air, the voice of a man I now know for my enemy. That voice tells me that my time has come! I know the devilish ingenuity of this man—I realize that I am trapped, but I turn to flee. This lamp upsets, short- circuits! The lights go out! And then comes a devilish mocking laugh as though the air had eyes to see my terror !” “You're dreaming!’ Speer’s grated whisper cut the horror-filled tensity of the room. “No!” said MacFarlane. “I can hear that laugh yet. . . . I could almost imitate it! Look! Look at that mantel- piece !” Every eye in the room shifted, and suddenly a wild hair-raising peal of hellish glee rang through the room. Like a winking eyelid, the front of the mantelpiece dropped, then started back upward. But MacFarlane’s quick leap and stabbing fingers stepped its movement, Inside of that false mantel front was a complicated mechanism of wires, and gears, and vacuum tubes. Attached to it was an ancient English crossbow. “A variation of the Bushner Anti- Aircraft Gun,” MacFarlane comment- ed quietly. “The crossbow hurled a knife instead of a bolt, and the ap- paratus automatically aimed at Bush- ner’s pounding heart! Death laughed, and the sound of that laughter opened the fireplace panel! “Speer, you might have got away with it, but everything in this room was dusty except the mantel front. I knew something was wrong, and it wasn’t hard te figure out what it was. You’re guilty as hell, and I reckon I’ve proved it!” Eomichooks.com