10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

THE VENGEANCE BROKER incredulously. “But I haven’t finished telling you—” | “No matter. I’ve worked it out. I can put my hands on the robber any minute I want to.” “Then tell me who he is,”’ demand- ed Jackson skeptically, “My fee for the successful conclu- sion of a case is two hundred dol- lars,” I reminded him. “What?” he shrieked, purpling with anger. “I’ve just given you fifty dollars, and you want two hundred more? You just look around and then you tell me you know who the thief is! Do you expect me to believe that? You’re trying to rob me! I won’t give you a penny. Oh, you crook, you crook!” COULDN’T keep from grinning. “Call up Assistant Chief of Police Hamilton,” I suggested. “Ask him if I know who robbed you.” He grabbed a phone from his desk. “T’ll call him, you crook. Vl tell him that you’re trying to rob me.” He glared at me as he gave the police number. “Better ask him if I know who pulled this job. first,” I advised. A few minutes later Jackson set the phone back on the desk. His eyes were dazed as he turned to me. “Chief Hamilton says that you know who robbed me, but that you wouldn’t tell him who it was. He says that you’ve got the fingerprints of the man that did it.” “T didn’t tell him, and I won’t tell you unless you come across with my fee,” I said. Of course, I wouid have to tell the police anyhow, but maybe I could get the money from Jackson first. He made a move toward his pocket- book again, then stopped. “‘Maybe if 1 did find out who he was I wouldn’t be able to get my money back,” he moaned. IT assured him that the robber had plenty of money and that he would have no trouble in getting his money. ————— At last he took out his pocketbook again, visited the cash register, and made up two hundred dollars. ‘‘Here you are, you crook,” he flung at me. “Now tell me who he was.” I carefully counted the money, pocketed it, then said: ““Mr. Neihart.” “What!” he howled, almost danc- ing with rage, apparently thinking that I had tricked him into paying out two hundred dollars for nothing. Tt explained to him how I knew that Neihart was guilty and finally con- vinced him. “Oh, that crook!” he said. “He was standing near me once a long time ago when I opened my safe. He got the combination then. I’m going to the police station now and have him arrested. He’ll pay for this.” He ran to the front door and held it open. “Quick! Get out, you crook. I’m in a hurry.” I walked out and watched him snap off the light switch and lock the door behind. He hurried down the street and disappeared around the corner. Then I walked to the opposite corner and joined a figure that was waiting in the shadow of a doorway for me. “Hullo, Shorty,” I said. “Ready for work?” Shorty Nagler was one of the best petermen in the state. I had once saved him from being framed and had earned his eternal gratitude. It had paid, too, for he had more than once been of use to me in helping me get into safes where I was not wanted. You can’t tell where you’ll have to grub around for evidence.. 47E WENT down the alley and stopped at the rear door of Jackson’s Pharmacy. I took a bit of curved wire from my pocket, stuck it into the lock and twisted it. The lock clicked and I swung the door open. I knew that there would be no burglar alarm, for when I had opened the door before I had carefully ne- glected to snap back the night catch which connected the burglar alarm. Shorty started work on the safe at COmicloooks (C@