10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

12——_————_——————-10-STORY DETECTIVE: Dale was tense. “Go on,” she said, “what makes you think so?” “You told me all the Markhams were buried with a crucifix. Well, the pieces of two of them are on the floor of the vault, The third crucifix has vanished. So I’m paying a quiet visit to the big house.” Dale Markham was on her feet, her blue eyes fixed on Slade. “You'd get lost in there,” she said. “And I could walk around the old ramshackle, blindfolded.” She crossed the room rapidly to a desk, and, thrusting her hand into the drawer, pulled out a revolver. Then she went to the couch and picked up Slade’s Colt. “You may need your gun,” she said, holding it toward him. “I’m coming with you, Mr. Storm Slade.” N silence they approached the an- cient Markham house. It was three stories high and rambled out in two wings. It bulked enormous against the moonht sky. “Up there, where you see the light on the second floor—” Dale whis- pered, “that’s the upstairs sitting room. The light in the north wing on the ground floor comes from the library.” They made a wide circle through a grove of trees to the back of the house. Dale pointed to a small window flush with the ground. | “It swings out by hinges on the top. Eight feet to the cellar floor.” Her voice was scarcely audible. Slade quietly swung the window up. A shaft of light from his torch mo- mentarily lit up the black interior of a coal bin. Then he slowly lowered himself into the darkness. A moment later he caught Dale in his arms and lowered her to her feet as she slid ‘through the window. With the aid of the flashlight they passed noiselessly - through several passageways to a flight of stone steps. “Better put it out here,” Slade heard the words whispered close to his ear. “IT can find the way perfectly in the dark.” She gripped his hand tightly. Slade counted twelve steps as they crept upward in the dark. He felt a draft of warm dry air, and knew she must have opened a door. The damp chill of the cellar was gone. She guided him unerringly through — several rooms. He was now aware of soft carpets beneath his feet. He felt her breath against his cheek. “Beyond the door,” she said softly, ‘is a hall that leads to the library where we saw the light.” A long slit of dim light told him that she was slowly opening the door. The slit grew broader. He could see a glow of light coming from a room twenty paces ahead. “T’ll go first, now,’ he whispered and pressed her gently behind him. With infinite caution they moved down the hall to the library door. From somewhere above came a faint sound of voices. Suddenly Slade felt Dale’s fingers - grip his arm convulsively. On the library table was a hideous skull. It stared at them fantastically with a devilish, twisted grin. Slade glanced at Dale. She shook her head. “Not the skull,” she said. “The book beside it. The family Bible.” “Look,” said Slade _ hoarsely. “What’s that?” He indicated with the barrel of his gun an open panel in the walnut wainscoating. Dale looked at him with exeited eyes. “Didn’t know it opened,” she mur- mured. Slade crossed the room and thrust his hand into the opening, He returned to the light of the lamp with a packet of letters. The envelopes were of a faded lavender color, undated, un- stamped. On the table were two sheets of the same colored paper. “These are what they’ve been in- terested in,” he said, picking up one of the two open letters. aig ge ee ee ot, CORMiIE HOOKS {COM