10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

56——-10-STORY DETECTIVE ten minutes of nine. He glanced to- ward the peaked blob of a summer house beneath the trees, and stared intently past it at the sprawling bulk of Judge Madden’s suburban home. Yellow light sifted through blinds at one corner of the dwelling, where Gore knew the Judge’s study was lo- cated. A single upstairs window, in the opposite wing, was illuminated. On the wide veranda he could just make out the shadowy figures of two men, standing together. He frowned at this last, and kept close to clumps of shrubbery, trunks of trees, as he strode toward the sum- mer house. Jeanne Madden was waiting, her oval face and light frock barely show- ing through the dusk. Gore gripped her arms gently. His keen eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the night, but he searched her face in vain for marks of anxiety. “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked. “Why did you want me to hurry here and keep out of sight?” She shivered, perhaps from the chill of the autumn evening. She brushed copper-colored hair from her fore- head. “Tt’s Leslie, Dad got him paroled, Pete, without telling me, and brought him home this afternoon.” “The devil you say!” Gore’s sur- prise was genuine. As chief inves- tigator for the district attorney, he should have been one of the first to hear of any parole action. Especially since he had been personally respon- sible for the imprisonment, on forgery charges, of Leslie Madden, who was Judge Madden’s wayward son and Jeanne’s brother. “Leslie swore he’d reformed. Dad used his influence—” “Your dad didn’t want to save Les- lie six months ago, when he could have,” Gore recalled. “He said Leslie needed a lesson—he’d got into trouble once too often.” The girl told him: “I guess he’s had his lesson, and I guess Dad got over being angry. Anyway, since I phoned you things have quieted down. At first Leslie was sullen and nasty. He and dad quarreled, and I was afraid. That’s why I called your office. I couldn’t speak plainly for fear some one might hear. But they reached some kind of understanding, appar- ently, and Leslie got very nice.” “Tf he stays nice,’ Gore murmured, “we could be friends.” E remembered that he owed young Madden something. If it hadn’t been for him, Gore might never have met Jeanne, whom he was going to marry. It was an almost un- bearable thought, =<. His ears caught the sound of a sash being raised, and then a familiar voice. He saw, framed in the lighted upstairs window, the silhouette of Ar- thur Denning, Judge Madden’s secre- tary. Gore had known Denning a long time and liked him. Denning leaned out above the two figures on the veranda. “Les,” he called. “You down there, Les? The judge was looking for you a while ago.” The immediate effect of the call was to send one of the men flying. He scuttled to the end of the veranda, leaped over a flower bed and vanished with amazing rapidity. The other—it was undoubtedly Leslie Madden — shouted irritably, “Okay—okay !” and entered the house. Gore watched for a minute or two without seeing any further sign of the man who had fled. He could hear Jeanne’s quick, unnatural breathing. He squeezed her hand. “Funny business,” he mumbled. The words were barely out of his mouth when the explosion came, short and sharp and ugly, spreading whip- crack echoes. Gore went rigid as a rock. Jeanne clung to him. “A shot!” she gasped. He nodded grimly. ‘‘Stay here, out of sight, till I call you.”’ He thrust her father into the shadows, not heeding her protest. He began to run toward the house, CORMIE OOO KS. COM