10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

MAUSOLEUM MISSION ————_—————————_71 He fell senseless on the cement floor of the vault. ... A round, brilliant disc swirled be- fore Slade’s eyes. Slowly its motion diminished. It stood still. Its contour took the form of a luminous skull, with black eye-sockets. The dark patches grew greyer. The yellow skull rounded into a dise again. Slowly it turned white. Slade’s eyes blinked open. He stared with dawning comprehension at the full moon that shone through the doorway of the Markham vault. He got to his feet, uneasily. Sharp pains zigzagged through his head. His mind cleared slowly. He reeled toward the coffin. It contained the crushed and disordered bones of a skeleton. On the floor were the pieces of a broken crucifix. He staggered out into the open and filled his lungs with the clean night air. Then his body stiffened with a sudden shock. The prone figure of a man lay across the path leading to Serpentine Drive. Slade walked toward it. He kneeled down and rolled the body onto its back. The sightless eyes of Jeff Briggs stared at him. The back of his head had been split with a cleaver, making a grisly sight in the night. 66QNERGEANT STORM SLADE speaking. Yes, captain. No, sir. I couldn’t call before. Captain, Jeff Briggs, the caretaker at Longwood, has been murdered. ... Yes, mur- dered. His head’s been split open. In front of the Markham vault, I’m talk- ing from the cemetery lodge. Yes, sir. I’m beating it for Miss Dale Mark- ham’s. Going to look over the old Markham place. Thanks, captain.” Slade hooked the receiver to the telephone box, He glanced at the big face of the clock ticking metallically - on the wall. Twelve forty-five. The green roadster roared up the Merrick Road. Dale Markham swung open the door of the tenant cottage. “I had half an idea you’d be back, Mr. Storm Slade,” she said. “Besides ’'m a nighthawk. Come in.” Under the hall light she looked at him intently. “Go in there and sit down,” she di- rected, motioning toward the living room. “T’ll be with you directly.” A moment later she returned and put a tumbler with two inches of brandy into Slade’s hand. “Swallow that,” she smiled. “You look like a ghost. Then tell me what’s happened.” Slade gulped the brandy. “Plenty,” he said. “I’m going into the big house. Want you to give me the layout. I’d rather your tenant didn’t know that I’m curious.” “Tenants,” she corrected, ‘“‘There are two of them—brothers.” “How many servants?” “None. That’s the curious part of it. A huge place like that and no servants. At least not for the past two weeks. They kept three of our old retainers for two and a half months and then suddenly dismissed them.” “You’ve lived in the house all your life ?” | “Yes, of course.” “What’s the easiest way to get in without making a noise?” “Through the basement window — that’s used as a coal chute. It’s always open,” Dale smiled. “Brings back childhood memories. Just what do you expect to find?” “The man who heaved the cleaver at me headed in that direction after he grabbed the Bible from you. I was too dumb to get the connection until I came to after a sniff of poison gas tonight. Two more caskets have been burst open. All three contained the remains of Cyrus Markhams. No Aaron coffins have been touched. Your tenants have found something in the old home that gives them an ungodly urge to get into a Cyrus Markham casket. But they didn’t know which one. They stole the family Bible hop- ing to find out. I figure they got the right one tonight.” Eomichooks.com