10-Story Detective, September 1941 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

HOT SEAT DOUBLE-CROSSER Devon smiled thinly. “I think E do.” A curious gleam shone in Honey- man’s narrowed eyes, as he growled: “Damned if I don’t think you’re in earnest, Devon!” The Bloodhound Reporter sighed expansively. “I’ve been trying to con- vey that impression,” he said. “But for me, you’d have Joey headed for the hangman’s noose and another inno- cent man buried as a killer. Believe it or not, Prost didn’t kill Bracker. I’m getting a lot of fun proving you wrong, Honeyman. But, if it will ease your hurt dignity, I promise to let you in on the finish. Meanwhile, you’ll stay here with Joey. And I’m borrowing your credentials, sergeant.” Honeyman scowled, then his tight lips parted in a wry grin. “Make it snappy,” he grunted. “I got lumbago, an’ this damn place smells damp to me.” Devon pushed through the swinging doors of the Hotel Regal twenty min- utes later. He strode across to the desk, asked questions of the dignified clerk there. The sergeants badge brought him the information that the man he sought had not yet returned to the hotel. os= He lounged in the crowded lobby for several minutes before taking an ele- vator to the eighth floor. He walked the two flights up to the tenth floor. The thick carpet deadened the sound of his’ feet as he followed the corridor to a large suite. Keeping a watchful eye on the passage, he worked swiftly with a slender, pe- euliarly shaped piece of steel on one of the doors. It swung open three min- utes later and Devon stepped inside the apartment. A thorough search of the three rooms revealed nothing of interest, but Devon gave no sign of disappoint- ment. Whistling softly, he switched out the lights, strolled into the bed- room and draped his lean figure over the bed. Eyes closed, he lay in the darkness for nearly an hour. At the end of that time, the sound of a door opening brought him up 91 stiffly, nerves abruptly taut, ears keened. He listened intently for ten seconds, then relaxed. Satisfied that only one person had entered the apart- ment, he slid noiselessly off the bed, headed for the connecting door. ‘J “HROUGH the open doorway, he watched the man in the other room deposit a brief case on the table, then cross over to a buffet and pour a drink from a gleaming decanter. Devon stepped inside the room and coughed softly. The man whirled swiftly, the smile on his florid face fading to a look of alarm when he saw the gun in Devon’s hand. He was a big man, portly, without a paunch. His heavy face with a ruth- less sweep of jaw-line held an air of power. Gray and cloudy like a moun- tain mist, his eyes betrayed a quick uneasiness, staring at Devon. After a short pause, the man’s tautness les- sened. He set the glass in his hand down hard on the buffet’s marble top. ‘“What’s the meaning of this in- trusion?” he demanded sharply. “Tt’s supposed to look like a stick- up—” Devon wagged the gun play- fully—“but you guess. Keep away from that phone!” he snapped. The big man quit edging toward the desk phone. “Do you realize who I am?” he asked savagely. “This is an—’’ “I know, it’s an outrage,” Devon interrupted. “Maybe this will help you forget it.” He stepped in close, whirled an un- expected left hook to the big man’s square chin. The impact jarred his arm clear up to the shoulder, but the man was out before he hit the carpet. Devon shook his left hand, grinned ruefully and dropped to his knees. He went through the unconscious man’s pockets carefully. When he. finally arose, he had retained only a small key taken from a flapped pocket in a wal- let. A minute later he strolled out of the apartment, walked the ten flights down. In the lobby, he stepped inside _ COMIC OO® “eS C©