10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

66—__—_—_—__—_———————_10-STORY DETECTIVE Give me a break and I'll help you to get clear, Whitten.” “It’s a bargain,’ Whitten replied, almost too quickly. “T’1]l shove you way out into the wa- ter. Then you can start the motor and be gone before they get down here. I’ll wade back and say I tried to stop you, but I couldn’t. For that service, you just forget about plugging me and also admit that Benson killed Ros- siter.” Whitten licked his lips, kept the gun trained on Kerrigan and climbed into the boat. Kerrigan seized the prow, waded into the water and shoved off. He rapidly turned the craft around until her nose pointed toward the mainland. By this time, Kerrigan was in the water beyond his waist. “Okay,” he told Whitten. “You can start her up now.” “Thanks,” Whitten smiled crooked- ly. “You are right about Benson. He didn’t think Rossiter would be re- leased so soon. When he was, Benson knew he’d tell where the jewels were in return for a break on some other charge. That’s what you wanted to know, but it won’t do you much good.” The gun leveled and Kerrigan sud- denly ducked completely under the water. The bullet was well aimed, but Kerrigan had moved very fast. He be- gan swimming under water. Whitten let loose a string of oaths and started the engine. There was a terrific explo- sion aft. The small boat rocked badly. Her stern started to burn. In a mo- ment the fire would reach the fuel tanks. Whitten grabbed the sacks of jewels and jumped overboard. He came to the surface again and looked wildly toward shore. Suddenly he spied Kerrigan, a gun in his hand —Keith’s gun which Whitten had evidently dropped in his haste to reach the launch. Kerrigan grinned at him. “We meet again, pal.” Later Cotter, Maguire, Mary Lee and Keith were assembled in the liv- ing room. The handcuffs which had clamped Keith to the trees were now around Whitten’s wrists and he was slumped in a chair, listening to words that would finally strap him into a different and much more uncomfort- able chair. Billy Keith stood close to Mary and held her hand. “i can talk now,” he said. “I knew Benson and Whitten were up to something. After Benson was murdered, I decided to make Whitten act. He really believed in those Druids so I worked on him. I tried to scare him into revealing why he came to this island with Benson.” “That,” Kerrigan grinned, “I al- ready surmised. In fact, I can even tell you how those wisps of fog came out of that rock. You slipped bits of dry ice into the crevices. They evap- orated, caused the wisps and disap- peared themselves without a trace. Nothing else could have done that.” “You should be a cop—not a parole officer,” Keith grunted. “Thanks,” Kerrigan said. “I’d ra- ther help convicts than send them up. That is, excepting men like Whitten. Mary helped you, too, by opening doors and windows so you could get in, and then locking them later on. What about the scrap in this room—the gar- land we found on Whitten’s head ?” “All part of my plans,” Keith ad- mitted. “I had to make Whitten be- lieve he was imbued with the spirit of a Druid. I read his books, too, and knew what would make him believe. I didn’t mean to cut your coat, Kerri- gan. I did give you quite a battle and I wore one of those garlands on my head and made sure you touched it. Then I put another on Whitten’s head, whispered in his ear and beat it through the window.” “And the same thing went with Cotter?” Kerrigan nodded. ‘“‘Undoubt- . edly you did not intend to cut him. You hid the knife in Whitten’s room. Mary claimed she saw him walking around the hall. That really did it, I think. Whitten became positive he was a Druid priest. Of course, Whit- ten murdered Benson and got the bril- DOOLK C©