10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

58-——______—_—_————_10-STORY DETECTIVE pockets of his wrinkled brown suit and expanded his big chest and bigger stomach. “So I got the murderer, red-handed, as you might say.” He called over his shoulder: “Bring him in, boys.” Two uniformed cops squeezed through the doorway, hustling a piti- ful creature between them. Gore looked twice at the battered features before he recognized Leslie Madden. The stocky youth’s hair was mat- ted, his eyes were dark and puffy, his lips were split. His suit was dirty and torn, and, as Link had-said, he had been caught literally red-handed. An ugly groove cut across his right knuckles, and blood dripped from his fingertips. Gore’s hazel eyes hardened, seeing that hand. A bullet might have gouged just such a groove, and knocked a re- volver free, “You swore you’d get even when I sent you up,” Gore said. “You almost finished me a few minutes ago.” Young Madden was hysterical. “I’d kill you all if I could,” he yelled. “You never gave a guy an even break in your lives. I didn’t kill him, but you'll see that I burn just the same.”’ Link sneered: “Sure, you’ll burn... I was at the precinct station, Gore, when the call came in. I hopped in a squad car, We seen this jailbird come out of the woods, and he put up 4 hell of a scrap when we ran him down. Some luck, eh?” “It would have to be luck,” Gore declared. His brows were knitted. He was remembering the man who had fied so mysteriously from the veranda. He asked Madden about it. Madden glared, started to speak, hesitated. He mumbled finally: ‘‘It was a tramp, a beggar. I told him to beat it.” Arthur Denning wrenched his tor- tured gaze from the body. Gore knew the judge had been more than Den- ning’s employer—had been practical-: ly a father to him, sending him to col- lege and treating him as a member of the family and a business associate. “T could hear Les and that fellow talking when I was upstairs,’ Den- ning said dully. “Les called him Nick. The handout he wanted was five thou- sand dollars—or else he'd make trouble for Les. Les was sore—said it was too much money.” “It would be Nick Spain,” Gore hazarded. “Gambler, forger, black- mailer—he was one of the pals who got Les started wrong. Nick wasn’t trying to make you rob your father, was he, Madden?” “You figure it out,” Leslie Madden said sullenly. “I told you all I know is that you’re going to pin this on me.” “Tf you were innocent, why did you run ?”’ : “I was in a spot. I’d just been paroled. The old man could have saved me from prison, but he didn’t. We'd had an argument about whether he’d disinherit me. The housekeeper— she’s away tonight—and Denning and Jeanne all heard it.” “Why did you take a shot at me?” “T didn't.” Gore turned to one of the cops. “There’s a revolver by the bushes out- side the window. Get it. Be careful how you handle it. There ought to be fingerprints.” E MADE another survey of the study. There were no signs of struggle, no overturned chairs. Just the dead man and the few drops of blood that had leaked from the fatal wound. Once he thought he saw a splash of blood on the hearthstone, but it was only a shred of scarlet paper. He had already glanced through the desk and the wastebasket. He smoothed a wrinkled, curiously bent sheet of notepaper that had been in the basket. It was blank on both sides. Sergeant Link grinned, “Quit fuss- ing, Gore. I got everything under con- trol,” More cops came in, detectives and fingerprint men, A photegrapher set ~~ EComichooksrceoni