10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

23—_____—_———_———_10-STORY DETECTIVE John’s arms. The moonlight was just bright enough to make the foot- path dimly visible. Daconi went ahead. Little John followed with the girl. Then came Louis and Tyson. It was a difficult descent. The footpath was never much over a foot wide, and often sloped a little outward, over the beach below them. Carrying the girl, in itself, was child’s play for Little John— like carrying a doll. But the uncer- tainty of the sloping uneven path, and the lack of anything upon which to hold, called for iron mus- cle and steady nerve. No one spoke on the downward climb. Presently they arrived on the beach below. The girl] had lain quiet in Little John’s arms. She had pro- duced a queer feeling in him. He had never before held a girl so close to him. This one, he felt, was un- afraid, dauntless, yet he wanted to protect her. It was a boulder-strewn beach, the boulders practically covering the beach, slime-covered, slippery. Little John stood at the foot of the path, waiting. For a little while the others stood still, too, sweating and puffing. “Up that way,” Tyson directed presently. Little John proceeded doggedly, the others close to him. It was pain- fully slow progress. There was no straight walking, only continual climbing over boulders. They went on for about half an hour, coming then to the end of the beach, and up mto some woods. In the woods was a cottage. Daconi unlocked the door and they went in. Two oil lamps were lit. There were three rooms, roughly furnished. Each of the small win- dows was carefully blacked out. Little John, still carrying the girl, was ordered into one of the rooms, in which were a couch and two chairs. He laid the girl gently on the couch. The others followed them into the room. Tyson chuckled. ‘‘That’s most of your job done,” he said pleasantly. “Then,” said Little John, “I may go now?” “Not yet. We might need you some more. Besides, Latch will want to see you.” Tyson grinned. ‘‘Latch will get a big kick out of you, Little John.” Little John shrugged a huge shoulder. He had no intention of leaving the girl, anyway. The others quietly left the room, and he could hear a key rasp in the lock, He looked about the room. There was one window. He went to it at once. Just beneath it, no doubt, was the ocean. The girl on the couch stirred. Little John turned and approached her. Obviously, Tyson and his men no longer were concerned about keeping her bound, and Little John quiekly cut her ropes. She sat up, stared at him. It was the first time he had seen her elear- ly. She looked prettier now, in spite of the sharp-rounded ehin and the utter lack of fear in her eyes. But she was very small and seemed, to him, helpless. It took her some time to get her breath. ‘‘Who are you?” she said then. “T am put down on the payroll,” Little John said, “as John Jack. I was hired by these men to do a job. I did not know what the job was. Now I would like to help you.” The girl laughed. ‘TI think they’re going to kill me,” she said. Little John gazed at her unbe- lievingly. ‘Kill you!” There was wonder in her eyes as she looked at him. “Did you ever hear of Bill Lateh?”’ Little John shook his head. “But don’t you ever read the papers?”’ Little John shook his head again. “Not much. Only books—” CO lOOOLK C©@