10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

52 was bending over the handle of a gear box from which cables led up- ward to the mast. Sweat streamed from the man’s face. “Drop it,” said Hart tensely. “Drop it before I shoot.” The man’s face went white. “T had to do it—he made me—he would have murdered me.” Like a cringing cur the man grov- eled at Hari’s feet. “Get over there and stand still. Make any move and [’ll kill you.” Hart pocketed his gun and took hold of the crank handle. The derrick- like boom of the mast, which had a ball and socket base, was almost verti- cal with the roof now. A few more turns of the crank and the steel cable leading through a pulley in the top of a still higher mast had drawn it up. It could be lowered and turned to alter the length and direction of the antennae. Another cable led from the mast’s end; a slender, almost invisible, wire. And from this something was dang- ling, swinging. The black shadow came in toward the end of the roof and landed as the slender wire un- wound on a steel reel. A metal fast- ener was snapped open and the black shadow bounded toward Hart. This time he fired coolly and accu- rately. Fired—and the thing collapsed into a shapeless heap. Hart’s flash- light stabbed the darkness, played over the thing on the roof. The shape of the Tarantula was visible then, legs sprawling. With a look of disgust he walked to it. From the heap of cleverly designed cloth and hair a harsh voice was swearing monotonously, swearing in pain. Hart reached down, tore at the vicious head with its red reflecting lenses and disclosed a man’s face— the face of Bowers, of the trapeze -team of Bowers & Bender. Bowers’ left hand had a clawlike glove on it, set with two razor-sharp blades on the end which could be pressed together with his thumb and forefinger. His right hand was uncov- 10-STORY DETECTIVE ered and blackened, but the palm had whitish powder on it. “You shouldn’t have spilled that magnesia,” grated Hart. “It started me thinking. [ used magnesia myself in my own gym work—bought it at a drugstore to put on my hands and keep them from slipping. Then [I heard the wire whisper when you swung away from the window after trying to kill me. Baron will be sur- prised when he learns that you used his radio mast for a purpose he hadn’t intended. Sneaked up the fire escape, didn’t you? But what was your motive, Bowers?” A stream of curses was his only answer. But Bender, the Tarantula’s white- faced partner, gave the details of the ghastly plot later. “He made me heip him,” he repeat- ed. “He was after Baron’s money. Faith Tashman was Bowers’ wife, though she didn’t live with him. He tried to play the badger game—com- promise Baron, and get a big cash settlement. But Faith got to like Jack and stalled along. “Bowers read one of her letters— learned that she wasn’t going through with it. That’s why he swung up to her room and killed her after failing to get her in the square. Marko Direr was sweet on Faith and suspicious of Bowers. Bowers guessed he might be wise and killed him for that reason, after seeing him prowling around the roofs. He liked the Tarantula stunt and was going to work it some. He had it all doped out and that’s why he pulled the first scare in the square. He did a spider act at the Criterion two years ago. Climbed up a rope web and used the same costume.” Hart nodded. He had known al} along that there was some simple and rational exrlanation. The deep- est-looking puzzles sometimes have the simplest solutions, “He’s got himself mixed up in an- other web now,” he said quietly. “The web of the law—and he knows where it will land him!” CORNICLOOOKS (C@