10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

CURSE OF THE BLEEDING STONE—————————Y65 FTER cuffing Keith to a tree, Kerrigan proceeded straight to- ward the Druid altar, walked boldly up to it. He didn’t have to wait very long. Someone came out of the dark- ness behind the stone, carrying a fair- ly large leather sack in one hand. It was Whitten. “Kerrigan,” he gasped. “I didn’t ex- pect to find you here. I— What’s the matter?” Kerrigan approached the man slow- ly. “Nothing is wrong with me, but there is going to be an awful lot wrong with you, Whitten. What’s in that sack? Where did you get it?” Whitten dropped the sack. “I don’t know what’s in it. I found the thing back there. You act as though you thought I was responsible for all this.” “Why not?” Kerrigan kicked the sack and tipped it over. The thongs drawn around the neck of it gave way. They seemed to be very rotted. A mass of jewels spilled out on the ground. Whitten gave a forward leap. His left hand, which had been behind his back, suddenly appeared holding a gun. Kerrigan made a play for his own weapon about half a second too late. “Don’t try it,” Whitten warned. “I don’t want to kill you. You, above ev- eryone else, must live because you know where the parts of the boats are hidden and I must get off this island.” ‘‘With the loot from one of the clev- erest jewel thief gangs ever cor- nered?” Kerrigan asked. “‘I know that Benson, alias Deek Chandler, got out of prison not so long ago. A man named Rossiter was his cell mate and one of the jewel thief gang. He must have spilled the hiding place of this stuff. So Benson, or Deek Chandler, murdered Rossiter quite cleverly, making it seem as though Rossiter tried a getaway and then committed suicide. Benson heard you had leased the place and he went to see you. Ben- son was willing to split the take for your help.” “You’re guessing,’ Whitten ad- mitted, “and very good, too. Whatever has happened before is nothing com- pared to the events that have tran- spired tonight. I’m invested with the soul of a Druid priest. Yes, I tried to kill Cotter and for no reason at all. He doesn’t know anything about this. I must have tried to kill you, too, in the living room. I don’t know. “My own mind has been superseded by that of a Druid. Therefore, don’t balk me. I can’t help what I do and there’s murder in my heart. Turn around and walk straight to the dock. Don’t go near the house because if anyone appears, I swear I'll kill that person and you, too.” Kerrigan kept his hands up and walked as slowly as he dared toward the dock. Whitten had disarmed him, even to the gun he’d taken from young Keith. Kerrigan had no doubts about his ultimate fate, once he had made one of those boats ready for travel. Yet, unless he did that, Whitten was apt to shoot and take his own chances. “You murdered Benson, didn’t you?” Kerrigan asked slowly. “You didn’t want to split the take because you'd located the hiding place. Ben- son didn’t stay out to taunt the Dru- ids. He was looking for the jewelry and you knew it. You returned, lured him to the top of the altar somehow and then killed him. He didn’t expect anything like that from you and he had no chance to resist. Then you spread him out on top of the altar so it would look like a Druid sacrifice.” “What if I did?”’ Whitten snapped. “Benson was going to cheat me. Care- ful now. No tricks. Where did you hide the ignition parts for those mo- tors ?”’ ERRIGAN walked down the beach, lifted a large stone and removed the missing parts. Under Whitten’s watchful eye and gun, he climbed into a fast speed launch, re- placed the equipment and fussed around with the motor. “If you start this baby,” he warned, “everybody in the house will hear it. DOOLK (C©@