10-Story Detective, September 1941 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

PLAYGIRL OF DESTINY: “Bluntly, yes. Walker and I have seriously disagreed on several matters and I had forbidden Ruth to see him. Walker can’t set foot on these grounds. My gateman has seen him several times, and—” He broke off abruptly as the girl came into the room. Jim snapped up from his chair. She was that kind of a girl, tall and slim, her body beauti- fully molded in the close fitting black evening gown. Jim’s eyes dwelt. for a long second on the low-cut bodice and then trav- eled up to the oval face with the point- ed chin and the direct, blue-gray eyes. Her golden blonde hair framéd her face and neck in a deep-waved hair arrangement that was arresting and decidedly becoming to her unusual type of beauty. Her face showed defi- nite traces of Bradley Shenckl’s bony gauntness, yet softened and rounded. “My niece, Ruth Miller. Mr. Lillard is from the insurance company. He thought you might have some clue—” Her face lengthened and the crim- son lips had a pout of distaste. “Again, Uncle Bradley?” Jim shrugged. “I’m really sorry, Miss Miller, but there may be some little thing you forgot to tell before.” She sank into a chair and crossed her long legs. “Very well, what do you want to know?” The butler appeared at the door, dark and haughty. “The police, Mr. Bradley, about Mr. Lillard’s—er—ac- cident.” There were two of them, palpably plain-clothes from the heavy round faces to the large feet in regulation black shoes. They were uncomfortable before Shenckl, and their voices were brusque, Ruth’s face showed sudden fright as Jim described the attack. She leaned forward, hanging onto his words. The detectives were plainly puzzled. “This cabby didn’t push himself on you?” _ Jim laughed. “No, Tilly was sound asleep with a paper over his face. I —59 had to shake him hard to wake him up.” “No help there,” the detective grunted. He frowned. “Now if you’d seen the license plate.” “TI did,” Jim answered. “68-410.” Ruth’s eyes were round and her hand was clenched to her lips. She saw Jim’s ingenuous stare and her eyes dropped. She blushed faintly. The two officers finally left. Ruth sat white and statuesque. Casually, she asked for a cigarette and Jim ex- tended his pack. Over the match, her eyes were direct and_ searching, weighing and judging him. She exhaled and lazily reached for the telephone. Jim’s fingers closed over her hand. “Best wait awhile, Miss Miller.” RADLEY SHENCKL stared from one to the other, badly puzzled, his craggy brows drawn tight against his nose. Ruth’s mouth curved dis- dainfully, but she still kept a grip on the phone. “Mayn’t I use the phone in my own home?’ “Normally, yes. But not to call Mr. © Paul Walker until the police have a chance to talk to him. His license num- ber on the killer car was a shock, wasn’t it?” Her lovely jaw dropped in sheer surprise. Slowly her eyes clouded mistily, the softness quickly giving _away to harsh anger. Her free hand came up in a blur of motion, and Jim felt the sting of her fingers across his face. “Paul didn’t do it!” she blazed. “You and uncle both want him out of the way!” ‘She pivoted on her high heels and rushed to the door, a slim distraught figure. Jim’s cracking tone halted her. “IT want to talk to you!” He could see that she was of a mind to disregard him, though she had stopped. Jim smiled softly. “If you want your friend cleared, you’d better give me the whole story—something I can work on.” He held a chair for her and waited. Conn (Cc NOOK CO inn