10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

———S ee “So there is,’ said Parsons hearit- ily. “So there is.” “But the rest of the bunch ain’t showed up yet, huh?’ Algie queried anxiously. “Not yet. It’s a kind of surprise party, see?” said Parsons. “‘Ain’t it, boys?” he asked the two gunmen. They both said sure, it was a sur- prise party. But they didn’t bother to grin. And Algie wondered what the surprise was going to be, and who was going to be surprised, but he felt that it might be impolite to ask, “It’s going to be fun, with Algie in it, ain’t it?” put in Sophie. “Sure,” said Parsons. “Glad you brung him up, Sophie. We’ll have a nice dame for him, tco.” He stared at Algie, and then grinned again. “Tell you what you do, Aigie. You just go in that next room there and wait a little while, see?” “In the next room.” Algie grinned back, but he didn’t feel just right about it, “But why—’” “Right in there,” said Parsons. He took him by the arm and pushed him gently but very firmly through the open door, and then closed the door. Algie turned and stared at the door. Then he twisted about and looked over the room. It was a bedroom. There was just one light, a small, dim one over in the corner. At first Algie didn’t see anything very clearly. But something about the bed struck him as strange. There was something on it. He walked over to the bed and looked, and at once began to wish that © is hadn’t been so easy for Sophie to bring him along. On the bed was a young lady! She was small, with golden-brown hair. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes, because they were closed. Her face was very pale, and there was something vaguely familiar about it. Her hands were tied behind her back. There was also a rope fastened about her ankles. She appeared to be asleep. But some- how Algie knew that she was doped. PARTY GIRL MURDER 69 There was a chair by the bed. Algie sat down in it. He felt very weak, be- cause he was sorry; he was sorry for himself, and sorry for the young lady. It seemed to him that they were both - in a bad situation. He glanced about. There was only one door to the room, the one through which he had just entered. The win- dow was five stories above the side- walk. ‘ The door opened suddenly. Par- sons came in, Frank and Armand fol- lowed, and they closed the door again. Parsons seemed quite cheerful. Algie looked up at him, motioned feebly to- ward the bed. “What—what is this?” he stam- mered. Parsons grinned broadly. “Just a gag, my boy,” he said. “Just a gag, LGIE put a hand on the bed and pushed downwards, so that he might get to his feet. “I—I guess Ill be getting home,” he said. “I had a kind of hard day—”’ “Oh, I wouldn’t go yet, Algie,” Parsons protested genially. “The par- ty ain’t started yet.” : “Sure. Thanks. But I better be go- ing.” He weaved toward the door. But the forms of both Frank and Armand were in the way, and they showed no disposition to move. Indeed, they were looking at him with wooden-faced solemnity, as if they might take it as almost an insult if he tried to push past them. “Better sit down, Algie,” Parsons advised. Algie went back to his chair. “What —what’s the matter with the little dame?” he inquired. “Oh, she’s just waiting,” said Par- sons. “Sophie thought maybe you would like her for a partner, see? A kind of travelling companion,” “She—she’s a swell looker,” Algie said. “But I don’t even know her.” “T’ll make you acquainted,” Parsons COMMICLOOOKS (F@