10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

y ey (alt 62—____—_____—_—_———_10-STORY DETECTIVE————__—_______—_ stroy it. I’m not the kind to court trouble.” Old Gorman let Jarvis in at the museum, He was badly shaken by the events. “T haven’t rung one box since Gran- ville was killed,” he said. “The agency knows it. I wouldn’t go into the Aztec Room either, if I was you.” “T don’t intend to,” Jarvis smiled. “T just came to keep you company. For our mutual protection, we'll stay in the office. If anything happens, we'll tackle it together.” ITTING down in a swivel chair, Jarvis tilted it back, drew his hat down over his eyes and proceeded to do some heavy thinking. Once he patted his pocket, in which reposed the articles loaned to him by the police labs. The time passed very slowly. It was almost five in the morning when a crash startled him and brought Gor- man to his feet also. “That noise—it came from the Az- tee wing,” Gorman gulped. “I—I think we ought to call for some help.” “Help, my eye,” Jarvis. grunted. “We'll go see what it was ourselves. Come on.” _ Jarvis drew his service pistol and kept his finger firmly pressed against the trigger. Gorman held to the rear as they approached the room over which the stone idol seemed to rule. Tt had been raised back on its pedestal, undamaged by the fall. Jarvis threw the beam of his flash all around and saw nothing. Gorman summoned all his courage and approached the idol. He gave a bleat of alarm and hastily backed away. His hand pointed shakily, at the cupped palms of the stone god. “There—there’s another of them things,” he croaked. Jarvis slowly picked up the fourth stone head. He felt a shiver rush up and down his spine, The fear that. struck him wasn’t the same type he felt when facing an armed gunman. This was stronger, deadlier. In his hand he held a stone image % c Sa an aes ee ee ree ve Sy ok aig 4 / me = ~ — 5 ~ see hater fie ae — Sram SiS eee {yee < te ee * erat? z “ie se = ¢ St MEF ge ee FEIN Set at ae ae = a eoees of his own head. His own features. On the left temple was a bullet hole, created in a manner similar to that which had adorned Felix Kent’s like- ness, Jarvis held the grisly thing at arm’s length to study it from all angles. He grunted once and stuffed the thing into his pocket. His grin was a bit sickly when he turned to Gor- man. “Looks like the old Indian has me on his death list. Gorman, [ can smell trouble brewing.” “Tt’s death, that’s what it is,”’ Gor- man mumbled. “I’m getting out of here. I don’t care if I’m arrested for it. ’m going—right now.” He turned on his heel and ran full speed out of the room. Shortly after, Jarvis heard the big main door slam shut. He shivered. Being alone in here wasn’t the pleasantest sensation in the world. He glanced at the impas- sive features of the stone idol and despite himself, eerie thoughts began surging through his mind. He remembered the Pharoah tombs of Egypt and the men who had ex- cavated them, How some of them had died mysteriously. He thought of countless legends. Of old Mrs. Grogan who swore that when her husband died, she saw a phosphorescent glow | rise from his corpse, linger a moment and then drift away into eternity. — Jarvis spun the cylinder of his service pistol and walked softly out of the room. Even his own light foot- steps seemed to grow exceedingly loud in the tomblike silence of the mu- seum. Halfway to the office he paused and decided to examine the bolts on the rear door. This took him through the darkest portions of the building and there was a strong temptation to flood the place with light. That wouldn’t do though—not if he hoped to have his plans materialize. He reached the door and saw that the bolts were drawn, Whoever had placed that stone head in the Aztee _ Room, had entered by means of this - . comicbooks ~~ . -: 7 CIE .