10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

—_—_—____—___—_——CRIME IN THE WACKS’ MUSEUM—————————57 | eut of it. Gorman, the old watchman, was huddled against the wall, livid with terror. Walker, sporting a blood- matted head, seemed to be quite ac- tive despite this, and there were two other men present. They helped Jarvis to his feet and supported him as he tottered toward the office. The moment he saw the desk, memory returned with a rush and he looked for the first stone head. It was gone. “The stone head—the one that looked like Felix Kent,” he said weak- ly. “Gorman, it was on the desk when I left.” , “T_T didn’t touch it,” Gorman qua- vered. “I swear I didn’t, sir.” ALKER introduced the others. Willard Post was a stolidly built person with big shoulders and thick arms, Douglas Granville was somewhat different. Tall, thin and al- most fragile looking. “It sounds preposterous,” Post snapped. Clearly, he was the type who gave orders and expected things to be done. “However, we know that Kent and Collins are dead. What I wish to find out is why they eommitted suicide?” “How’d you know that?” Jarvis asked crisply. Post fidgeted a bit. “Why—why Walker told us. While we were trying to bring you back to. consciousness. I think that if we find the reason why they killed themselves, we’ll have an answer to this whole affair.” “The answer—” Gorman moved forward a little—“is right in the Az- tee Room, Yes, sir. It’s that god! I found this on the floor beside Mr. Jar- vis, It’s a war club. It came from the Aztec Room.” He produced the weapon and Jarvis closed both eyes in a fervent prayer of thanks. If that hefty weapon had ever connected right, he’d be as dead as Kent and Collins. Then he glanced at Walker. The man was injured, but if the club had hit him hard enough te inflict that bloodstained gash, it would have killed him or rendered him unconscious for hours. Jarvis said, “Mr. Post—and you, Mr. Granville, how long were you out- side the museum before you were ad- mitted? And who let you in anyway?” “T let them in,” Gorman answered. “T heard the fight and then shots. The bell started ringing. I opened the door.” Granville said, “I arrived first. I knew Post was coming so I waited for him. He showed up about five minutes later and we rang the bell.” Jarvis surveyed the four men and realized that among them there must be a murderer. The idea of an Aztec statue, thousands of years old, being responsible for the deaths of two men had been absurd in his mind from the start. Now that he and Walker had been physically attacked, the Aztec god seemed more remote than ever as an actual killer. Also, stone images can’t fashion stone heads of victims. “Let’s talk about this Aztec god,” Jarvis suggested. “Who knows the most concerning that legend.” “It’s no legend,” Post said. “Oh, I don’t expect you to believe. I didn’t either, Not for several years after we purchased the god. Then I began to wonder, The Aztecs, sergeant, were a clever race, They were not easily duped, and the histories we have un- covered indicate that they had a great respect for the justice and prowess of this idol.” Jarvis lit a cigarette and studied the four men for a moment. ““Then, as I understand it, the god metes out jus- tice to evildoers. Which means that Kent and Collins must have committed some crime. Both of those men were rich, honest by reputation, and cer- sr not the type to steal or mur- er.”’ “They were guilty of something,” Granville put in, and his tall spare figure seemed thinner than ever, “If they weren’t, both would still be alive.” Jarvis tried to think back. Were those legs he grabbed sturdy or skin- . Poe = Se 5 Si aie a et mea es cn Vee eh