10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

60—___—__—_—————_10-STORY DETECTIVE Denning’s tone was pitying. “The truth is plain enough. Your father talked about cutting Les out of his will and Les couldn’t bear to have that happen.” He clenched his fists. “But I'll help you look. As long as he’s free none of us is safe.” He strode away. Gore steadied Jeanne with his arm, for the secre- tary’s words had struck her like a blow. “Keep your chin up,” he told her. “There’s still plenty to be explained. Nick Spain wasn’t here for any good.” But he spoke without conviction, because Madden’s fingerprints on the revolver would be damning evidence in any court. There were no other direct clues—nothing more than a shred of paper that resembled a spat- ter of blood, and a sheet of stationery aay had been curiously bent and wrin- ed. A couple of policemen with lan- terns were studying the sod near the house, trying to pick up Madden’s trail. Gore knew it was almost hope- less. Sergeant Link was depending mostly upon a blockade of roads and, after daylight, a thorough search of the district. A noise of footsteps stiffened Gore. It was Denning, signaling excitedly as he hurried toward them. When he was near enough, Denning whis- pered : “I’ve spotted ’em. They’re talking it over.” Gore followed him toward the woods. And despite his efforts to send her back to the house, Jeanne trailed along. “T’ll go to pieces unless I keep mov- ing,” she asserted. He understood. Sheer nerve was holding her up. Grief and sorrow would overtake her soon enough—and it would be double grief if, in addition to her father being murdered, Leslie should be proved the murderer. Impersonally, without trying to guess whether it was Leslie or Spain or a third person, as yet unsuspected, Gore cursed that murderer from the bottom of his heart. “Be quiet,” Denning warned. “Keep behind the shrubbery.” They slunk along, bent nearly double. Gore heard the whisper of wind in the leaves and occasional snatches of talk from the direction of the house. Then, so softly that at first he doubted his ears, he heard a mur- mur of voices ahead. Denning halted in the shadow of a spreading tree. Gore crept close to him, holding his breath. Before them lay a tiny hollow, ringed by foliage, and in the center of the hollow were two formless shadows. A nasal, whining voice spoke impa- tiently: “You ain’t got any choice, Les. You count me in or you burn in the chair. Give me a written confes- sion you bumped off your old man, and Pll see you through this. I’ll give you a chance to buy back the confession when you get the dough that’s com- ing to you.” Madden’s deeper tones replied: “It wouldn’t do any good, Nick. They’d catch me, and I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.” “You’re screwy, kid. We can pull a sneak out of this spot. I can hide you so they'll never find you till you’re ready. I know lawyers that will do anything for a profit. We can frame somebody to take the rap for you.” “It would be a rotten trick,” Mad- den said. “Still, the only other thing in sight is the chair—” EHIND the tree Gore balanced the automatic in his fist and waited breathlessly for Madden’s next words. He could feel Jeanne’s slender body tensing against him. Madden said finally: “What have I got to lose? I’ll write a confession for you as soon as we get away from here,” = “Now you’re smart,” Nick ap- plauded. “Let’s get going.” Gore stepped through the branches that screened the little hollow. He COMMCOOOKS.(COM)