10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

sot we ® back against hard-set teeth, making of his mouth a wolfish knife slash. “Soup McGraw!” Slip Dowst’s words brought an an- swering response from the dying man. Soup McGraw’s eyes opened, slowly and with obvious effort, and Slip saw the agony in them. The eyes were half glazed already and Slip knew life was fading from the terribly man- gled body. “Hiya—bo!” Soup McGraw whis- pered, recognition gleaming dully in his deep-set eyes. “Was looking you —up—Slip. Heard you—vwere here. Long time—no see! Had big job lined up—for us. Westview. Jewelry store box—Riker’s place. Got combi- nation from—factory man who got eanned. He died—give it to me.” His swollen lips grimaced into a rueful smile. “No money — riding freight—went sleep—trolled off rods. Crawled here—dying—Slip—dying!”’ All at once a terrible fright flooded into his eyes and lay frozen there. Grimy, palsied fingers fumbled for Slip’s hand and clutched hard. Yes, Slip Dowst told himself, Soup McGraw was dying. The dying man was silent for near- ly a minute, Then his eyes opened wide as he tried to speak. The words were almost unintelligible because of the split, puffed lips. Slip Dowst bent low, his gray eyes avid and hard as he tried to hear the mumbled words. “Wrote down—combination—piece of paper — in pocket.” Spasms of pain coursed Soup McGraw’s torn body and he moved jerkily. He tried to scream, but a smother of blood seeped from his pain-twisted lips. He mumbled: “Slip — you got your ehanct — be cinch for you. Jus’ think of me — when you're — in clover!” Soup McGraw’s mashed body jerked spasmodically two or three times. Agony tightened his white face, Then the muscles relaxed. Soup McGraw, battered face more peace- _ ful now, lay dead in the fragrant honeysuckle. MEMO FROM THE BIG HOUSE————————_——43 Slip Dowst’s sly gray eyes were agate hard as he gazed down at the dead Soup McGraw, His heart was pounding, his breath coming fast. He felt no pity, only a wild and tri- umphant elation for the release of- fered him by the passing of Soup McGraw. ITHOUT a tremor, Slip’s long fingers delved into the dead man’s pockets. There wasn’t much in them—just a few old letters, some addresses, a sack of makings and crumpled cigarette papers, thirty- two cents in coins, a dirty rag and a paper packet of safety matches. Searching frantically, Slip found the bit of paper on which was pen- ciled the combination of the Riker jewelry store safe. It was in Soup McGraw’s watch pocket along with a pawn ticket. Ship Dowst’s narrowed eyes glis- tened with cupidity as he looked at the numbers of the combination. He read: Start 99 Left to 37 Underneath the combination was written: No imner door. Shp Dowst laughed softly to him- self as he folded the bit of paper into a small square and placed it in his own watch pocket. This was going to be simple. Slip flexed long slim fingers in avid an- ticipation. It was three long years since he’d tackled a box, but he knew there would be no difficulty. Slip Dowst jerked around guiltily as he heard a metallic noise from up the railroad track. He knew what it was—a section gang on the way to repair the roadbed. Quickly stooping and gathering in the coins, Slip ran up the embankment. A quarter mile down the track he saw the handear commg toward him. Slip stood in the _ comicbook yee ol 2