10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

THE CORPSE CLUE undoubtedly not of the planned kind, with robbery for a motive. What I mean is, Hewett surprised an intruder in his room; there was a scuffle and Hewett was shot. Wounded in the left temple—one of those wounds where the bleeding is mostly internal.” “When’d it happen?” “At exactly fourteen minutes past eight o’clock last night.” “T know,” said Doctor Kettle smil- ing, “it’s one of those cases where a clock was conveniently broken during the brawl. The hands of the clock stopped at eight-fourteen—” “Well, that is exactly what did hap- pen. But I’m not that simple to take the word of any clock, because how do we know the clock kept proper time? However, there is plenty of other evidence to corroborate— Say, take that suspicious look off your face. I’m giving you straight goods. If you want to question the other four board- ers yourself and learn—” “Let me see the boarders. I’m get- ting interested.” ALDOCK left the sitting room on “” the lower floor in which this con- versation had taken place. After a few moments he returned with a man he introduced as Mr. Louis Lerian. Lerian was a well-built man of about one-hundred and _ seventy pounds, tall, with dark, flashing eyes, a strong jaw and black hair, gray at the temples. He gave his age as thirty- six and in response to the doctor’s question explained: “T am at leisure at the present time. I’ve done a little of everything that’s done in vaudeville but my specialties are juggling and card tricks.” “Can you account for your move- ments last night?” “T left this house at seven, strolled around, met some other disengaged —ahem—artists, chewed the rag in front of the Palace, returned at nine, went to bed and to sleep.” “You heard no shot fired or other suspicious sounds?” “T understand the murder was com- 105 mitted at eight-fourteen. At that time I was in front of the Palace, we re- marked on curtain time, and two of us pulled out our watches. However, even if I had been in the house and sleeping, I probably would not have heard anything. Hewett’s room is second floor back, mine third floor front. And I sleep like a dead man, doctor.” “Are you married, Mr. Lerian?” “On the brink. Waiting for booking before I take the fatal step.” Lerian was excused. “Vain chap, isn’t he?” remarked Baldock. ‘‘Dyed hair.” He left the room and this time returned with Valentine Janson, age twenty-seven, who had reddish hair, freckled skin and was handsome in a robust way. “T left here just before eight o’clock with three other boarders—Watwood, Miner and Hewett,” he explained. “We walked west. Near Broadway there’s a fruit shop, which Hewett en- tered. At Broadway I turned south and Miner and Watwood went north. I’m playing in Screaming Flames, the mystery show at the Delphic Theatre.” “T’ve seen that one, but I don’t place you,” said Kettle. Janson smiled. “No one remembers me, and yet I’m the fellow about whom all the fuss is made. When the curtain goes up at eight-thirty, I’m on the stage alone, playing the piano. Seven minutes later I am shot. Thereupon I go home.” “Is that the program you followed last night?” “No, sir. Last night I visited a friend. He had a gang at his place and we played cards. I got in at one A. M.” Gene Miner was on the carpet next. He was of medium height, husky without being broad, blue-eyed and fair-skinned. He said he had left the house with Janson, Watwood and Hewett a few minutes before eight. Hewett had dropped into the fruit store. At Broadway, Janson had turned south and he had headed nortk with Watwood. COMMICLOOoKs (C@