10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

a crash. The sound was interspersed with the slamming of the window and the thud of the electric iron to the floor. A human being screamed. McKenna dashed through kitchen and into the bedroom. The window was shut down tight. Someone had tried to come in, and knocked the prop out, and the window had crashed down on him. But the killer had squirmed loose and was getting away. The window was difficult to raise now that it had no sash cords, but Mc- Kenna flung it up, and got out on the sill. He sprang into the court-yard. At the last moment, as his feet left the sill, he saw that there was not ground under the window, but a deep pit with steps leading down to the cellar. McKenna made a desperate ef- fort to throw himself farther out from the building. He landed, his feet tripped over the top step, and he hit the pavement with a jar. A shoe gritted, and McKenna rolled over, threw up his hands to defend himself. In the instant, he realized that the murderer, hurt and startled by the dangerous trap the window was, had slipped, and fallen to the bottom of those cellar steps. McKenna had jumped over him, and he was coming up behind McKenna and had that advantage. There was little light, but McKen- na saw the gleam of steel and jerked himself aside. The man grunted from the exertion of his effort. His arm came down powerfully. And the knife blade hit the pavement beside Mc- Kenna, struck sparks from the stone. Grabbing for the man, McKenna got a fist in the face. Then the other man was up, running towards the back of the yard. McKenna dashed after him. Like a strange, suddenly appearing sun, a light popped over the fence, and its beam fell on McKenna. _ Pearson shouted in his raucous voice: “Stop! Stop!” MeKenna went faster. Pearson’s light lifted, to jerk after McKenna. But it overshot him, and BULLETS ON BLUE MONDAY ——-— 21 revealed the man climbing the fence. Hanging from the fence by his. hands, the man turned in time to kick McKenna in the face and chest and send him sprawling. McKenna sprang up, pulled him off the fence, then was smashed in the head and sent reeling. McKenna lunged forward for another dash in, as Pearson’s light spotted them again. The flash also shone on the strained desperate face of the for- -merly dapper and dignified James Nis- bet. He had a gun in his hand. Pearson shouted: “Get down, Mc- Kenna, you fool! Don’t tackle him!” MackeN NA dropped to the ground. - He had to, for Nisbet was shoot- ing at him. Pearson fired, and Nisbet shot at Pearson. McKenna lay there, with the shots volleying above him. Suddenly the light blinked off. McKen- na rushed at Nisbet. But Nisbet was down. The light came on again, then Pearson dropped over the fence and hurried to them. McKenna propped Nisbet up against the fence. Captain Pearson examined him quickly, whispered: “‘He’s dying.” Pearson declared gruffly: ““‘We have you, Nisbet. You were forced out into the open, trapped. You going to tell us everything before you die?” Nisbet took a deep breath, his eyes conned their faces by the glow of the flashlight, and he nodded wearily. ‘‘! had no choice. I have none now. Me- Kenna’s property is worth at least a million—you can take Tiere’s word for that. I hadn’t the money to buy in with the rest of them. Nor would it have done any good. I had to have ai! of it, and I’m penniless.” Pain flashed across Nisbet’s face. “I’ve used up the funds of my investment service clients, and soon I’d have to make an accounting. “T intended to kill the others, ex- cept Logan. I left Logan alive to share the suspicions there would naturally be. When McKenna was in prison and needed attorney’s fees, I would have bought his farm—with a worthless ECORNICLOOLK (C@)