10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

6 erably. “TI never dreamed I’d find her here. Like this!” “Suppose you tell me about it,” Mac- Farlane suggested. “To begin with, who is she? I know her name ain’t Trace.” “No, it’s Trent,’ Steele admitted slowly. “Her brother is something of an inventor. He had some important plans stolen, and she wanted me to throw up my job and help her recover them. I couldn’t see things that way. We quarreled, I didn’t see her again until— Well, you saw—you know— oh, it’s a mess!”’ “And you think maybe that Bush- ner or Speer is the party that swiped those plans?” MacFarlane com- mented shrewdly. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past either one of them— And she’s just the plucky sort that’d play a deep game to try to get ’em back! But she wouldn’t kill except to pro- tect herself. What do you make of ig “T don’t like it!” Steele said simply. “Virginia wasn’t telling the truth about that lock switch. I know! And then that handkerchief! Why didn’t the department send a real detective on this case? All I’ve ever handled was routine!” “Keep a stiff lip,’”’ MacFarlane ad- vised kindly. “We'll get the straight of this. You go get that Toy San woman, and send Hawkins in to me. I got a hunch.” A moment later Hawkins was in the doorway. ““You wanted me, sir?” he inquired politely. MacFarlane regarded him sharply. “Hawkins, you ought to speak to th’ maids,” he declared severely. room is dusty as the devil!” The butler was immediately on the defensive. “It’s not their fault, sir,” he protested. “Mr. Bushner was a very peculiar man, sir. He seldom al- lowed any of the maids in this room, sir. He seemed afraid that they might take something. As though anyone would want to get away with one of these horrid murder tools!” “This ~ $4—__—_—____—_—_—_———-]0-STORY DETECTIVE “Murder tools?” The ranger was instantly interested. “Yes sir.” Hawkins waved a hand at the walls. “Every single one of these weapons had taken human life, sir! Mr. Bushner made a collection of such things. He was very proud of it. Only last month he raised an awful row because of a missing cross- bow, sir. He said it was a very inter- esting piece that was used in the as- sassination of a duke or something!” “Morbid cuss, wasn’t he,” MacFar- lane commented, casting a glance at the motionless body. “You better cover him with a sheet or something. Might be a little less gruesome!” He turned toward the massive mantel- piece. “I’ll give him credit for good taste in fireplaces, though,” he added. “That's Mr. Speer’s idea, sir,” Hawkins corrected. “‘He had that in- stalled for Mr. Bushner.” “So?” MacFarlane shot a quick glance toward the butler. “By the way, what caused the lights to go out a while back?” “A burnt fuse, sir,” Hawkins re- plied. “I can’t imagine how it hap- pened to blow out.” “T think I know,” MacFarlane de- clared, eyeing the fallen floor lamp. “Tell Mr. Speer I want to talk with him, will you?’”’ He walked over to the radio. “How come this thing isn’t work- ing?” he asked Speer as that gentle- man entered. “The lights seem to be burning.” PEER glanced at the tuning dials. “Tt’s set for the wave length of the plant at our experimental labora- tory,” he told the ranger. “Since I am here, it is of course silent.” “You do all the broadcasting from there, don’t you?” MacFarlane asked. “What were you broadcasting to- night?” Speer looked startled. ‘I was send- ing out some stuff for a radio thriller,” he declared. “Bushner and I were working out some weird sound effects. He was to tune in on them here.” He comicbooks.com