Pulp Fiction, 1941 · page 24 of 116
10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: "10-Story Detective" This page contains the concluding prose of a hardboiled crime story alongside a commercial advertisement. The narrative text resolves a murder mystery involving characters named McKenna, Nisbet, Logan, and Betty—detailing how a man named Nisbet committed killings over a disputed farm property worth more than ten thousand dollars, and how Logan sought vigilante justice before the case concludes romantically. Below the story text is a full-page advertisement for Thin Gillette razor blades, featuring illustrated sailors and pricing information ("four for ten"), emphasizing quality at low cost.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
22—__——_—_—_—————-———10-STORY DETECTIVE——_________——- check. But by the time I’d given him the check, and he’d passed it to a law- yer, I would have raised money on the property, and had it in the bank.” McKenna choked: “You shouldn’t have tried to kill Betty.” Nisbet grimaced. “I browbeat Tiere into transferring the option to me, gave him a song and dance, told him he was too ill to handle the deal. I thought he told Betty Dunbar about it. I couldn’t take any chances on leav- ing her alive, because I made Tiere suspicious forcing the option from him.” Pearson bent over him, then got up: slowly. ‘‘He’s dead.” McKenna dusted his knees. “You get Logan?” Pearson nodded. “He got away from the hotel, but ran his auto into a truck a few blocks farther on. Got him to the hospital, and as soon as he re- gained consciousness, got his story. He figured you did the killings. He was jealous about you and the girl. He wanted to take you to Nisbet, and hold a kangaroo court. “Logan figured the police were too slow. He wanted to take the law into his own hands.” Pearson cleared his throat. “McKenna, I never expected anything like this. I sent you back to your hotel room just to see if any- thing would happen.” He walked back to the house. Betty was at the window. McKenna went in. “Betty, that farm is worth a heap more than ten thousand. Enough more that it drove Nisbet to all this. And—well—you know what I told you before. You know what I said!” Betty stood close, looking wp into his face. “You might be a good me- chanic,”’ she said, “‘but you don’t seem to know much about girls.” McKenna blinked, then realized she was waiting to be kissed. It was the first nice thing he had had a chance to do since he’d got to the city. Blue Monday had become a red-letter day. You glide through whiskers like a breeze — And find new comfort, speed and ease With Thin Gillettes, priced four for ten; They rate sky-high with thrifty men! Top quality at rock-bottom ECORNICLOOOLK< (E@)