10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

14—_—__—_—_——_———_10-STORY DETECTIVE Katie nodded. “You can step out of this office into the elevator, go down to the loading platform and into the al- ley. I’ve often gone home that way.” “Does Roser Slainte live nearby ?” “Yes. Up the street.” “Cozy,” Ashes murmured. “You live across from M.M. Rosie lives just up the street. Tony Ross not much fur- ther. Esterly—does he live in the back yard, too?” Katie nodded. “We all live close to the office.” Ashes went back to the desk, start- ed to open drawers. “No use,” Katie advised. “The bot- tom one is the strong drawer. It’s locked. M.M. had the only key.” “Maybe,” Ashes said, “a smart guy doesn’t have only one key, because if he loses it, he’s locked out himself.” Ashes sat in the swivel chair behind the desk. His easy shoulders and re- laxed posture suggested power held in check. He figured that Katie Boyle knew more than she was telling. He started to talk, slowly, quietly. “If you breathe a word of this, I'll choke that smooth throat of yours,” he said. “This is all off the record.” “Wait.” Katie Boyle held up a hand. “You'd better not trust me too far. But, Ashes—believe this, will you?” “Say it,” Ashes said. “If it’s true, L’ll know it.” CHAPTER Iil ATIE’S words were simple. The impressive thing about them was the sincerity of her tone. “Ashes, I am an American,” she said. That was all. Ashes sighed. He really relaxed now. “I can believe you,” he said. He leaned forward, put his brown hands flat on the desk. ““Who do you suspect, Katie? Who is responsible for the filth that’s been appearing in the Macollum news service releases? Was it M.M. himself ?”’ Katie Boyle’s black head shook. “M.M. was an American, too, Ashes. He was being driven to print that propaganda. Somebody had a hold on him powerful enough to make him change his whole editorial policy.” Ashes wasn’t listening. He was star- ing at a corner of the huge, flat-topped desk. “What is it?” Katie cried. She bent over, watched Ashes take an envelope from his pocket, hold it so that it would catch anything that was scraped off the desk. Katie’s blue eyes got bluer as she waiched Ashes carefully brush three or four short grayish hairs into the envelope. Ashes carefully put the envelope in his pocket. “When I find the murderer of M.M. Macollum,” he said grimly, “I'll have the man who’s been preying on Amer- ica. Does that sound dramatic, kit- ten ?”’ Katie Boyle shook her head. “No, Ashes, it isn’t dramatic. It’s true. Who should know better than I? If some- one hadn’t murdered M.M., I think he’d have committed suicide. He was a man hounded by his conscience. He didn’t want to publish this propagan- de. He was forced to. It was killing him,” Ashes’ black eyes were sombre, “I believe you, kitten,” he said. “Macol- lum Publications control two hundred and sixty-three newspapers. There are about two thousand newspapers in the United States, and the Macolium Pub- lications Press Release Bureau serves fourteen hundred of these papers. Every M.-P. despatch is read by a hun- dred million American people.” Ashes’ fingers made hard fists on the desk. “And every M. P. release for the past two months has originated in the office of a Nazi propaganda bureau. No one can prove it, but I know!” For a long moment there was si- lence in the office. Every word Ashes had uttered was true. Macollum Pub- lications was the most efficient propa- ganda organ in the country. Up until a few months ago, it had been Ameri- can all the way through. Then—over- night, it seemed—fifteen hundred newspapers went crazy. Insidious Nazi GCOMIIGIOO S C©