10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

along the railroad right of way. Even though hardly eight o’clock, the day was starting off in the low nineties. It promised to be another real sizzler with no hint of rain. © Johnny Dowst had tried. He worked early and late in the steam laundry and by dint-of his effort was made assistant to old Mr. Peterson, the owner. But he couldn’t carry on much longer. He meant to locate an old style box here in Westview that promised to open quickly and easily under the urge of his magic fingers. After that he would be gone! Johnny Dowst had tried because of Betty Maddox, the motherless daughter of Police Chief Amos Mad- dox. Betty was blonde, had trusting blue eyes and a cute spattering of freckles on her firm little chin. He was pretty sure he loved her. It was because of Betty that John- ny had sat through meetings of the Westview Board of Trade. It bored him stiff at first, but after a while he found himself getting interested. A fellow should be interested in his city, Betty had said. People in West- view were slow in taking to newcom- ers. The business men did not pay much attention to Johnny Dowst. They were courteous and, after nearly two years, he was appointed to an unim- portant committee or two. Johnny worked hard on those committee du- ties and, although the chairman got the credit, practically everyone knew it was Johnny Dowst who had done the work.. Johnny Dowst was slowly becom- ing civic-minded now. It hurt that folks didn’t pay much attention to him, but Johnny was unflagging in his zeal and devotion to the Board of Trade. If he went back on “the road,” it would be one thing he’d really miss. The speeches, the luncheons and gala dinners in the Odd Fellows’ Hall. Johnny was looking forward to the big semi-annual meeting Saturday night when new officers and directors were to be elected. Not that he was even nominated, but it meant a live- ly battle and a lot of cheering and good fellowship. That latter was something Johnny Dowst was begin=- ning to understand. It was then Johnny saw the dying man. A Ses man was lying twenty feet from the tracks at the foot of the embankment, his body almost con- cealed under a tangle of wild hhoney- suckle. Johnny saw the man’s rag- ged shoes first. He had to spread the honeysuckle vines wide to see the rest of him. Johnny Dowst, who had seen death and violence in many forms during a long career, caught his breath in utter horror. . The dying man was almost literal- ly cut to pieces! - One arm hung by shreds, the right side of the man’s chest was caved in. Cinders were ground into his face as if a rough grater had been rubbed over it, and one leg was mashed flat above the knee. Yet the injured man was still alive. Even though the man’s red-beard: ed face was raw and bloody, Johnny recognized him. It was as if a nebu- lous ghost of the far distant past had suddenly crystallized into substance. Three years of terrific striving for an upright life dropped like a bright. mantle from the thin shoulders of Johnny Dowst, leaving the dark and ugly husk of the man of the past re- vealed: Slip Dowst. It was not Johnny Dowst who quickly knelt amidst the perfumed honeysuckles. It was Slip Dowst. < The change was instantaneous, magically brought about by some strange alchemy of: that first glance at the dying man before him. And as he gazed down at the battered man the transformation became complete. Gray eyes once round and clear be- came slitted, seemed set more closely in a face made thinner and more predatory because of taut muscles. Healthy and normal lips were drawn