10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

90—___—___—_—__——_————10-STORY DETECTIVE————_-_-______—___- drearily toward the front end and got out. Drake and Meg and Cy Knox were the last out. Meg shivered a little. Drake had her arm and was looking down at her. He was wondering how anyone so small could be so smart— and so brave. And he was thinking there was something ravishing about the way the color of her lips contrast- ed with the pallor of her face. But he didn’t say that. He said: “Hurry up. Mr. Knox is waiting to feed us.” HE dining room was large, with plenty of tables and a counter in the far corner. The passengers all hurried to the counter. Knox led Drake and Meg to a table and they sat down. Knox remained standing. “What would you like?” he said. They both said sandwiches and cof- fee would be fine. Knox went to the counter. He said something to the counterman and handed him a five-dollar bill. The bus driver had come in and was sitting at the end of the counter. Knox turned to the driver with another bill, and Drake heard him say: “I left my top- coat on the back seat. Please get it for me. Leave it at the cigar stand.” Back at the table, Knox said pleas- antly : “Excuse me for a few minutes. I’ve got to see about getting a car.” They watched him walk out, Then Drake said: “I think that old fox is up to something.” “He seares me,” admitted Meg. “Can’t we get away from him?’ Drake laughed. “Where could we go? We’re out in the middle of the des- ert.” . He got up and walked over to the bus driver. He said: “My topcoat is. on the back seat, too. It’s the one with the large buttons. And you have my suitease in the baggage compartment. The suitease isn’t locked and I want you to put my coat in it. Then put the suitcase back into the baggage eompartment,” | The driver scowled. “What the hell is this?” he grumbled. “A game,” said Drake lightly. The driver saw the bill in Drake’s hand and his scowl.twisted into a grin. “Okay, pal. Say, you’re going on with us, ain’t you?” “T wouldn’t know,” said Drake, and returned to the table. Meg said: “I heard you. So you have got something to hide.” Drake sat down, leaned across the table. He said: “Tell me. Did Tim Wingate kill Joe?” “T don’t know. Tim is a swell guy. Elaine is swell, too, if she could only shake off that hard-boiled old man of hers, And don’t look at me like that, because I didn’t shoot Joe.” She swal- lowed coffee. “Why, maybe you killed him. I really don’t know much about you. I’m a fool, teaming with you. Why, I might be sitting here eating sandwiches with a murderer.” Drake said thoughtfully: “There must be a darned good reason why you ran away.” “T could say the same of you.” “You could. I wonder what Knox is up to.” Meg smiled hopefully. “Maybe he won’t come back.” But Cy Knox did come back. The bus driver was just yelling, “All aboard,” when Knox came in. There was another man with him, a big man in dusty tan clothes. Knox smiled and said: “This is a deputy. His name is Patullo. We—that is, Patullo and I— thought you might like to go back to Las Vegas with us.” Meg shivered. Drake said: “We hadn’t planned to de that, sir.” “I know,” Knox said agreeably. “But, you see, I’ve phoned to Las Ve- gas and I learned that Joe Grail has been murdered. Surely you don’t deny that you know something about that.” He smiled, “I told the bus driver you wouldn’t be going.” Through the window they could see the lights of the bus moving swiftly away into the blackness of the desert. comicbook (e(0)