10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

me DEAD MAN'S SNARE—————————9 Jonathan Norton opened the huge oak door, almost as soon as they reached the steps. They went in and through the house to the library with its heavy leather-covered furniture, fireplace, and half-open French win- ‘dows. “Now, Steve,” Norton purred. “There’s no one in the house but the three of us. I want that diamond.” He slid a bis, old-fashioned wallet from the inner pocket of his coat and opened it. “I’m willing to pay enough to get you and Gail started. Five thousand, maybe?” ORTON looked up questioningly with those watery eyes, his fin- gers flipping through the bills in the wallet. There were a lot of them in. there, and as his fingers slid over the last one, Steve saw it wasn’t a whole bill. Only half of one. The numerals in the corner read: 1000. And Steve - was suddenly sure of himself. He laughed. “Why should I tell you where it is, when I know I won’t get out of here alive?” ‘Norton tried to look surprised. Steve grimaced. “You hired Ed to steal that diamond. It would look bet- ter to the insurance company to have the maid surprise a real thief. Ed was to take the diamond, bring it back to you, and he’d collect the other half of that one-grand bill. You’d collect the insurance. And you’d still have your diamond. “You figured I took the diamond from Ed, and you hired Hartwell to make sure Gail brought me to you after your lawyer got me out of. jail. You were gonna get your stone; then Hart- well could get rid of us—Gail and me. You couldn’t let either of us live, be- cause we'd know you'd recovered your stone.” “But what about Nick here? And Ed? They’d have told.” “Not Nick. The police have too much on Nick. And as for Ed—you planted the maid to identify him. He’d have to take your Spdeane and clear out.” | ~ -* we) we ° = F we) Ree 25 a 25% Oe nn re * ~ ye ¢ ee a 7 > pet a ae Sar oS) th ee w t* & ete Roe tee a ae ~lie eh "+ at is -!) ter Se oe ee: Cea Ogee. Einar pee, am ay Steve stiffened in his chair, as a new thought struck him. “Ed didn’t kill that cop,” he cried. ‘You killed him. Ed was yellow. He didn’t have the guts to kill anyone. You shot that cop after you’d joined in chasing Ed. You thought you’d hang murder on Ed, too.” The old man was grinning again. He’d slid a flat automatic from his pocket. “All very interesting. But now let’s have the diamond.” Hartwell snapped: “The dame’ll be here in a minute. Rinaldi was on his way to results when he started work- ing on her.” They waited. Steve strained for- ward, hoping. Then the bell rang and his shoulders sagged. Jonathan Norton slipped his gun into his pocket, got up and went out of the room. Steve heard him switch- ing on the lights in the reception hall. The sound of the big door opening came to Steve; and then the old man’s voice: “Gail, my dear. What are you doing here?” There weren’t any more sounds then —until the door burst open and Jona- than Norton stepped into the room. Gail was behind him, the gun she’d had before clutched nervously in her hand. From the corner of his eye Steve saw Hartwell shift his automatic. Hartwell wasn’t being caught. Steve lunged then, hit the gunman just as the gun roared. Hartwell went down. Steve grabbed his gun hand, twisted it, trying to tear the weapon from him. The gun spat wild bullets into the ceiling. Somehow, Hartwell got his legs doubled and heaved upward. Steve went sailing backward toward the wall, his eyes fixed on the gun as it focused on his middle. There was a sharp, ear-splitting crack from the doorway. A round, blue hole appeared instantly in Hartwell’s face. He stiffened, then crumpled like an old accordion. His gun seis oe to the floor. Ya ae ig Kh Lok Oe Eomichooks