10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

ceat. Out came a calling card and a stubby yellow pencil. He steadied the card on his knee, scratched at it with the pencil. His cupped left hand shielded the writing from Lefty’s curious eyes. Station lights flashed like meteors ahead. The air brakes hissed. Lefty put his hands on the seat, pushed him- self unsteadily to his feet. Hang! The old gent was getting out tco! He strug’gled to rise. Somehow, Lefty found himself reaching out a hand. The watery blue eyes smiled gratitude. Lefty blinked quickly, then cursed himself under his breath. He moved to the door. The old gent pressed after him. People jostled each other. | “Oh!” gasped the’old man, and he fell heavily against Lefty. For a moment he sagged there. Lefty turned round, grasped the old gent’s arm. “All right, pop ?” he asked grufily. “All right, quite all right,” the old gent nodded briskly. “Queer old gent,” thought Lefty. “He sure is grateful for things.” The old gent, suddenly spry for his years, was tripping up the stairway to the street. “Funny,” thought Lefty. “Funny how spry he is.” The old gent =. disappeared. Lefty made his way to the other side, southbound. At the turnstile he stopped, felt for a nickel. No go—he was out of change. No matter, he had three fat wallets in his pocket. He reached in a hip pocket. And his hand found nothing there! He slapped one pocket, then the other. Both empty! Terrible suspi- cions poured into his numbed brain. His hand streaked for the old gent’s wallet in his breast pocket. He jerked the zipper. And he cursed. Inside was only cut-up newspaper! He reached for his watch. Gone! — His lighter. Gone! | What was this, though? He drew a card from his pocket, a calling card with words scrawled on it. He spelled out the crabbed writing. “So sorry —but your technique is se old fashioned.” A car rumbled into the station. Feet slapped and pounded on the concrete. But Lefty, dazed, stared into space. And words, ugly words, beat into his ears: “One snake will sometimes strike and kill another snake.”