10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

VQVuuVe==~== BRUPTLY Hoke Martin felt those same giant hands on his Spine again. This time they caught the neck of his coat and ripped it, tore it down his back. His shirt and undershirt were torn off his shoulders the same way. Something swished through the air, cracked tentatively. Suddenly Martin realized what it was. A horsewhip. Then it cut the air and descended on his bare back. The lash of pain sent every muscle, every nerve in the de- tective’s body tense. The whip was raised and brought down again. The tip of it snaked over his side, even seemed to be reaching under him to add to the inches of pain. How long the lashing continued Hoke Martin never knew. It seemed to be hours, but it might have been only a few minutes. The whisper did not come again—only the fury of the whip. When it finally stopped he lay half dazed. Warm, moist blood trickled down his spine. He shook his head, and an involuntary movement dis- closed that his hands and feet were free, Slowly, painfully, he got on his hands and knees, turned, and got into a sitting position. His back was a lump of raw throbs. Loose ends of rough hemp rope dangled from his wrists and ankles. In front of him and behind him he could see other rope ends tied to young trees. His bindings had been slashed cleanly with a sharp knife. Groping in the half-darkness, he rose and started forward. Ahead, through a leafy tangle, he glimpsed a street light. His mind became clear- er and he halted and got out a pocket knife and cut the rope ends from his hands and feet. . Three of them he threw away, but one he stuffed into a pocket. The dirty rags over his face he also kept. The one which had been used to blind- fold him was over his nose. Evidently LONG-DISTANCE DOOM———————_____-28 the attacker had untied it and pushed it down before disappearing. Martin came out on the sidewalk near the same spot at which the giant had grabbed him. The street was deserted. Pushing what was left of his coat over his raw shoulders as best he could, the detective discovered that his revolver was still in his shoulder holster. He got out his wallet. No money had been taken. A few minutes later he strode into a corner drug store, brushed past the gaping clerk and made his way to a phone booth. A taxi arrived quickly, and he went to a hospital and had his wounds dressed, then to his room for fresh clothing. ESS than an hour from the time of the attack Hoke Martin was again getting out of a taxi two blocks from the Lindsey residence, but this time he approached it from a differ- ent angle. Crossing a side street in the shad- ows, he made his way along beside the stone wall. Ahead of him, a gate stood open. Lindsey had told him to come this way, and Martin intended to do it, even if he had to blast out any other interference with hot lead. Three feet from the gate, he halted abruptly. A voice had come out of nowhere. “Stay out, Hoke Martin. You had your warning. Next time we won’t be SO easy on you.” The detective reached for his gun, whirling. No one was behind him. No one was in sight anywhere. Oddly detached, the voice con- tmued. “Do you want to die? Enter that gate and it means death for you. You know we mean business.” Then it stopped, as mysteriously as it had begun. Grimly Martin looked about him. The voice had seemed to be no more than a few feet away, yet there was no possible place of concealment— except on the other side of the wai}, In a flash the detective hoisted him- Gomichbooks.com