10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

DAGGERS OF DOOM————————_69 The hatchet-man let his hand drop to his side, and stared at Gil out of narrow, wicked eyes. Charlie Mee walked around the table, came close to Gil, with his hands spread out, palms up. He said very low, in Cantonese: “You are a man of miracles. I was aware that you knew of this place, but I thought that you were killed. My heart is glad now that you were not. “Since you seem to have us at your mercy, I ask you to wait another moment. You may learn something that will surprise you. Please answer me in my own tongue, I do not wish Wayne to know you are present.” Gil looked into the fat man’s eyes, and shrugged. “I will wait, and see what I shall see,” he answered. “But I am not to be taken unawares.” Charlie Mee nodded wordlessly and returned to the table on which the blindfolded Wayne was strapped. He spoke to him in English. “Where, my friend, is the image of Kung Fu-tsu? Before we go on with the Death of a Thousand Cuts, you have another chance to speak.” Wayne groaned. “I tell you, I haven’t got it! I gave it to that pri- vate detective. Get him. If you tor- ture him, he’ll give it to you. Let me up! I can’t stand any more!” Charlie Mee bent lower over him. “Tell us, then, once more, what hap- pened in your house when you killed the brother of the Kung Tong—not the story you told the police and Mr. Fenton, but the true story!” Wayne spoke with difficulty. His chest was heaving. Little rivulets of blood were running down his body from the cuts onto the table. “I’ve told you that already. Can’t you let me alone?” Charlie Mee said patiently: “There is a man here whom the tong holds in high esteem. We wish him to hear the story from your own lips. Speak quickly, and we may spare you fur- ther—er—affliction.” “All right,’”’ Wayne moaned. “That Chinaman had half of the Confucius, 4 and I had the other half. He wouldn’t sell; he wanted to buy my piece. He brought his part 7c my house to com- pare it. I got him to do it, making him think I was willing to sell. And when he came, I killed him—killed him, and took his half. Together, the two halves make the most precious piece of jade in the world. I would have killed a hundred men to own the whole thing!” , Gil’s eyes opened wide while Wayne spoke. He took a step toward the table, his face purpling. But he stopped as Charlie Mee bent lower and ordered: ““Repeat now, the part about the secretary.” “T killed Krell, too,” Wayne croaked hoarsely. “Krell came in just when I shot the Chinaman, He saw me do it. I hit him on the head, and then stabbed him with the Chinaman’s knife. Then I touched the Chinaman’s fingers to the safe and made it look like robbery!” His body sagged weak- ly in the straps. “Now, you devils, let me up,” he gasped. Charlie Mee straightened up over the table, and his eyes met Gil’s. Then he waved the three hatchet-men back. The one with the pin cushion went to a corner and put it away. Charlie Mee said to Gil, still in Cantonese: “You see, my friend, the nature of the cause you have es- poused? I could not explain to you before because the laws of the tong forbid us to speak of our wrongs to one of an alien race, even if it means death to those we love. We must work out our own vengeances.” He smiled a little. “But I have violated no tong laws. I told you nothing. This man has spoken for me. Now you know.” Gil slowly put his gun away. From his other pocket he took the two jade pieces, laid them together and handed the image to the fat man. “This is yours,” Gil said. Charlie Mee took the icon, and for the first time he smiled. “I was deso-° lated when I had to order you killed. But the tong comes before all else, COMIC OOOKS (C@)