10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

80-———_—_—_————-10-STORY DETECTIVE following you about, don’t be fright- ened,” he added. “‘We’ll place you un- der guard for a couple of days, just in case.” “You mean—perhaps they might try to murder me too?’ she asked weakly. “Oh no,” Gerry hastened to assure her, “but we like to protect people who help us. They won’t bother you, I’m sure.” She thanked him as he bowed his way out the door. Quickly he made his way down the stairs. The squad car awaited him, motor idling. Gerry talked earnestly to the driver for a moment and then gave crisp or- ders. “Maxon’s Jewelry Store,” he said, “and hurry.” HE car, siren screaming, wended its way through the traffic. The driver cut down on the siren as they turned into Dean Street. No use hav- ing a thousand people following. There had been one huge crowd at Maxon’s already. An elderly man, dressed in a well- fitted cutaway, came to meet him. His face lighted up in recognition. Max- on’s was a nationally known store. People came there from over the whole world, and Maxon’s remained open until late. It was that fact that made it easier prey for daring hold- ups. The night lends a silent hand to thieves. “You have learned something?” he asked in eager anticipation. “Not yet,” Gerry told him, “‘at least not much. You could, of course, iden- tify some of the men who were here?” “Those whom I saw—yes. The clerks would know others. You have found one of them?” “JT think so,” Gerry told him, and _ then went on to describe in detail the - dead man. Maxon’s head elerk grew crimson in excitement as Gerry went along, but he made no attempt to stop him. But when Gerry had finished, he burst out impetuously. “That’s one of them,” he cried. ‘‘He killed Gourson, the clerk. I saw him laugh and then shoot him down. Gour- son, with two children. You should have him hung quickly.” “No need to, Ross,” he remembered this was the man’s name. “He is dead already. All we want is an identifica- tion. Can you come along?” “In a moment,” and Ross sped to the back room to give orders and to don a topcoat. Half an hour later he nodded silent- ly as he looked down at the corpse. “That is he,” he told Gerry. “I saw him shoot down Gourson and now he is dead himself. Who killed him?’ “That,” Gerry said, “is what we'd like to know.” They left the grisly room, and in the police car Gerry questioned the man further. “You didn’t see anything of a man about five feet seven, kind of fat and with a scar over his eye, in that bunch of holdup men, did you?” “No,” Ross pondered, ‘‘no, I’m sure I didn’t. I looked at them as closely as I dared. If one had a sear over his eye, I should have observed it.” Gerry dropped him at his store and continued on to headquarters. By this time they would have left Dr. Lash- er’s. Captain Hart would be waiting, he knew. And he was. Hart glared at him for a moment. “Where the devil have you been?” he asked. “Mrs. Fisher must have been some dame.” Gerry laughed. “The dead one was in the mob that stuck up Maxon’s,” he told Hart. “I just had Maxon’s head clerk at the morgue. He identi- fied him in a second.” “Oh,” Hart rounded his lips, “that’s different. Did you ask him about the man that was in Lasher’s office too?” “He didn’t know a thing about him. Mrs. Fisher remembered him though. Gave the same description as Lash- er. You’ve sent an alarm for him, I suppose?” “Uh, huh, and we’ve identified your dead man too. He’s Mickey Laden, one CORMEOOOKS CON