10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

PHANTOM LOOTER TSD or table. A door banged defiantly, then silence descended again, a Si- lence more pregnant with suspense and danger than before. The Gray Ghost! That was the thought that flashed through Gilmar- dy’s stunned mind as he leapt from his place of concealment and dashed into the study, the room from which the sounds of struggle had emanated. WITCHING on the lights, he looked about the room for Keith, but only a mocking emptiness met his straining eyes. In one corner of the room, near a small door, he saw an overturned chair. On the floor near the chair was Keith’s handkerchief, and nearby was his automatic pistol, but of Winston Keith there was no sign. Gilmardy tried the little door, only to find it se- curely locked. “Good Lord!” ejaculated the inspec- tor. “Keith gone!” Then the import of it struck him full force. The Gray Ghost was on the scene, and as before, he was just a bit too clever for them, but where was Keith? Had he gone in pursuit, or had he fallen victim to the Ghost? Yes, that was it. Gilmardy remembered the sounds of struggle he had heard, and he knew that Keith had only been persuaded to leave his post by su- perior force. “Where in hell did the Ghost take Keith?” asked Gilmardy of the night in general. He punctuated his query with a verbal explosion that would have done credit to a Liverpool dock hand. The little deor, securely locked; the previous slam of a door. Obviously, Gilmardy decided, the Ghost had re- moved Keith through that door, but where did the little door lead to? That was what Gilmardy meant to find out. As the inspector stepped out of the study and down the hall with the idea of finding out where the door led, a shadow detached itself from the oppo- site side of the darkened corridor. Pad- ding noiselessly through the study, the shadow slipped on into the library. eeemigeannen sycceees | The shadowy figure resolved itself into the figure of a man. The upper part of him was shrouded in a dark, eapelike affair. A close observer might have noticed that the texture of the cape was strikingly similar to the texture of the Cranther draperies. The new arrival’s face was dead white, al- most waxen in hue, and ornamented with heavy, drooping mustaches. Two eyes, snapping brilliant in their utter blackness, peered forth from beneath a high, pallid brow. The newcomer strode unerringly to the pendant tapestry that hid the lit- tle wall-safe. He neither looked about him, nor appeared at all hurried, yet he worked with a sure deftness that bespoke of cool nerves and a serene confidence. Such were the ways of the Gray Ghost. Two minutes had passed since the struggle in the study. Only one hun- dred and twenty seconds. Yet in that short space of time the Ghost had made his appearance, outwitted the trap, opened the safe and extracted a necklace of diamonds, and one of cost- ly matched emeralds, contemptuously passing over the baubles of lesser val- ues, With a low chuckle at the ease with which the Inspector’s trap had been eliminated, the Ghost left a small white envelope in the safe. An enve- lepe addressed to Inspector Gilmardy, then as he started away from the safe, approaching footsteps interrupted him. The Ghost took one long step and melted behind an enshrouding tapes- try just as the library door swung open. Inspector Gilmardy slipped into the room, closing the door after him. With silent steps Gilmardy crossed the library and eased into the study. An instant later the study was bathed in light as the inspector snapped on the switch. Not a sound, save Gilmardy’s nervous breathing, disturbed the heavy silence. The lights in the study snapped off in accompani- © ment to the inspector’s muttered oath. Gilmardy had found that the little CORMMICLOOOKS COL