10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

66—____—_—————-10-STORY DETECTIVE lid missing. His wife saw the thing happen and it sent her nuts. She’s raving.” “Doe Tom Gilmore?” Storm Slade asked. “Yeh, Tom Gilmore. His wife used to be a trained nurse. Most sensible woman I ever knew. Not a nerve in her body. Yet what she saw sent her haywire. She was found this morning, unconscious, on Serpentine Road in the cemetery. When I talked to her she was half delirious. They gave her morphine. In about an hour now she ought to talk sense, the coroner says. Get over there. It’s your case.” Sergeant Slade rose awkwardly to his feet. He stood, six feet three, be- fore the captain. His nose, in harmony with his lean though muscular body, was long and narrow. And long and narrow were his gray eyes. His head, thrust forward on his long neck, re- minded Ryan of a gargoyle. The captain pressed his fingers hard into Slade’s bony arm. “Look here, Storm,” he said serious- ly, “you’ve got brains and imagina- tion. You’ll need ’em both on this case. Go easy, son, for I’ve a hunch we’re up against something pretty rotten. You’ll know what I mean when you see the body.” Storm Slade’s wide shoulders sloped sharply, like the sides of an army tent. He shrugged them with a rythmic, muscular movement, “Thanks, captain,” he said. “T’ll ease over to the doc’s now.” HALF hour later Storm Slade brought his green police road- ster to a stop before the Gilmore bun- galow. As he stepped out he glanced over at Longwood Cemetery. The Gil- more place was only a few hundred feet from the archway that gave ac- cess from the south to one of Long - Tsland’s oldest burial grounds. Slade swung his long legs up the cement walk to the bungalow and pressed the bell. A moment later he was being conducted to Mrs. Gilmore by an old woman who came in answer to his ring. The doctor’s wife was in bed, her head supported by two pillows. The results of a dreadful mental shock were written on her face. Beneath ner eyes were crescent puffs of blue. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to smile at Storm. “Was it you I was talking to be- fore?’ she asked. “I guess I wasn’t quite rational. You see—Oh, heavens! it was so horrible ... .” A shudder shook her body, “Just tell me, as simply as you can, what happened.” Slade’s voice was gentle, kind. “Then I’ll go. You need rest.” “Oh, I'll never sleep again. When I close my eyes I see it... . I see it again.” She covered her face with trembling hands as if trying to blot out the vision. “Tell me, beginning with last eve- ning, what you and Dr. Gilmore did.” “We went to the movies at Mon- nitoque, the second show. It was such a beautiful night. We walked back through the cemetery. It’s shorter that way, you know, than by Com- stock Corners. We were walking up Serpentine Drive when we heard a strange squealing. It sounded as if it came from one of the vaults we had just passed. “The doctor thought a dog was hurt and went back. I waited in the road for him. He went up the little path toward the vault. Then he suddenly stopped near the entrance. I could see his face in the moonlight. He looked as if he’d been stricken with paralysis. Perfectly white. Then he screamed. He screamed, I tell you! And he has nerves like steel. He’s a surgeon.” Mrs. Gilmore suddenly sat bolt up- right in bed. Her eyes dilated. “He sereamed, he screamed,” she kept on repeating. - Storm Slade crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed. He pressed the woman quietly back onto the pil- lows, Gomichbooks:com