10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

Ay Dhar ‘ id alta | ‘ a} na A Xt { : uty We) i ne) > 9 LD a | 2 N Sib hy "3 - which came from the star-studded sky and moon, but it was enough. A black shadow hulked over Win- nie’s bed. Hands were curled around her throat. Just a whisper of sound came from her mouth. Her eyes were popping and pain and fear had twist- ed her lovely face into an awful gri- mace. It took only a second, maybe less, to see all that. My lunge carried me to within three paces of her assailant. He had whipped around and with the light behind him . I could not see his face. Just a dark blur making a low, snarling animal noise. And then fF hit him. Y FIST cracked against the bony point of his jaw and he snapped back like the recoil of a six-inch gun. The backs of his legs folded against. the edge of the bed and he spilled over on the carpet. I was on him like a wild- cat. I don’t know whether my rage was enough to kill him. If ’'d known for certain that Winnie was dead I might have. At any rate I did intend to mark him up permanently. But I hadn’t reckoned on fear. A man surprised in the act of murder, a man fighting for his very life—the highest stake on this earth—is a triply ‘strong opponent. And a wily one. As I leaped upon him, his knees came up to his chest, the flats of his feet eaught me squarely in the stom- ach, and he kicked up and out. I fair- ly sailed through the air. I walloped against the wall, using the back of my skull as a buffer. The blow lit up my own private Fourth of July cele- bration. For a moment every muscle in my body was paralyzed. I saw him go. I saw him sprint out the door. And there wasn’t one damned thing I could do about it. I remembered the Corpse Maker, but I couldn’t get it out. I .couldn’t move even the fraction of an inch. . It passed swiftly. I floundered to my feet. I turned on the bed lamp. Winnie blinked up at me and a weak smile tugged at her Boe mouth. She’ said, “Sam,’\in a soft voice that held infinite relief and a world of mean- ing. I saw the cruel marks on her throat where the man’s thumbs had bit into it. I said grimly: “Who was it, Win- nie? Did you see him?” She shook her head. I got up and closed what was left of the door. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. ““We’ve got to thrash this thing out now, Winnie. There’s a killer loose. No © telling what he’s liable to do before © morning. Spill it.” “Spill what, Sam?” I said patiently: ‘‘There’s some- thing you know, something nobody else does know, something about the killer. That’s why he tried to get you out of the way. What is it?” Her face was blank. She shook her head again. Was it possible that she herself did not realize the value of some fragment of information at her command? Had she seen something whose importance she did not appre- ciate? I said: “How did you happen to come up here with Holloway? How well did you know the man?” She shrugged slightly. “Not too well. He was my lawyer. He handled my contracts—oh, yes, and he got me my divorce.” “Divorce?” I asked incredulously. “Yes, from Duke, Didn’t you know we'd been married? It lasted only a month. We realized almost immediate- ly that it had been a mistake.” I just sat there and stared at her. The gears in my brain were revolv- ing, but they weren’t meshing prop- erly. This was an example of what - they called civilization. The ex-wife — week-ends at the home of the current spouse. | HAT was a bitter pill, learning that Winnie had once been mar- ried to Duke Glynn, but after ’dswal- lowed it I forgot how bitter it was. _ She went on: “Holloway called me and said he’d been invited out for ees = os t