10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

30-—__—_—_—_-——_—10-STORY DETECTIVE : n’t hard to figure what had him on edge; he was worried about having permitted Jake to go back to the training quarters alone, Home, Keating felt the same, but strongly. He should have gone with Jake. He could have spent the night up there and stayed on till Jake brought Plummer in for the fight. Maybe he still ought to go. Hell, hang- ing around like this, worrying and fretting wasn’t going to do him any good. The simplest way was to get Jake on the phone and ask how things were going. But he hated to have Jake give him the horse-laugh for being nerv- ous about nothing. The phone rang while he stood thinking about it. Keating threw off his hat and pressed the phone to his ear. “Keating!” It was Plummer’s thick voice, hoarse with excitement. “Lis- ten, Giles phoned me. He got nasty, told me I better make up my mind.” “What did you tell him?” “To go to hell.” “That’s fine. Where’s Jake?” “Outside on the porch. I had to get him out so I could phone you. Keat- ing, I’m scared to hell. Giles didn’t say it right out, but he means that if I don’t call him back and tell him I’m going to throw the fight, he’s going to take it out on Jake. He more than half said he ought to bump Jake any- way, on account of what Jake knows about him.” Keating hung up and made it to his car before he drew his next breath. He drove with the gas pedal to the floor, trying to feel thankful because this was a little-used road this time of year, all the while that impatience crawled under his skin like a million fuzzy maggots. He kept an eye on cars coming from the direction of the training ‘camp, but they were few, and he blurred by them so fast that looking was a waste of time. Keating didn’t see the roofs of the house and barn, they were too dark. The first things he saw were the dull white walls. A blur of shadow against the white of the house—that was some one running round the corner, then up this side of the house. Keating got the car door open, swerved off the road dangerously and clicked his headlights up bright. The white paint of the house glowed lu- minously, throwing a ghostly glow. It was Jake running. Before Keat- ing could yell, Jake had disappeared round the back of the house. EATING got out on the running board, let the car travel under its impetus as he heard three shots blast the night apart. Running heav- ily, Giles stumbled right into the headlights, the gun in his hand smok- ing lazily. Overwrought, Keating jumped for him. The car rolled up close and stopped, as they went down, Keating knocking Giles’ gun aside and punching Giles’ face. Keating mercilessly pounded the face of the man who had Jake. He was. not trying for a knockout, he wanted to cut Giles to pieces with his sharp fists. He didn’t want to kill him, but he wanted to leave the cops only enough to march to the death cham- ber. “Keating, Keating,” Giles cried, trying to roll from under the blows. gLy Pee Gs Gigantic, Plummer swept round the back of the house. Plummer had an axe in his big fist, an insane look on his ugly face in which the nar- rowed eyes shone like two bars of quicksilver in the slits. At sight of Keating and Giles on the ground, Plummer stared. at them without blinking, his eyes shining at them like lights in a false face. “Keating!” Plummer’s voice rum- bled from the depths of his huge chest. “Kill that louse, he murdered Jake with this axe, and then’— Plummer waved the axe and its pol- ished head reflected gleams of light conmicbooks (C@