10-Story Detective, November 1942 — 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————_ that two dangerous men faced him, forgot everything but the fact that this call must be coming from the grave. A corpse calling. He lifted the receiver, glued it to his ear and heard that same familiar voice. ““You’ve done very well, Jim. No reason why you won’t make an excel- lent D. A. Better than I at any rate. Now stop trying to talk and just lis- ten. I can’t spare much time. There are certain documents these two men are after. They’ll kill each other to — get them because those papers explain exactly how I protected these two men. How I took their bribes and their taunts. Ask them where those papers are. Good-by, Jim. This time for good, I’m afraid.” Abbott hung up slowly. “Believe it or not,” he said, “that was Hamilton. He told me you men had bribed him, but that he prepared for something like this and made written statements. Those papers are missing. Two crooks came for them. Now—which one of you hyenas sent those lugs here?” Arnt suddenly jumped to his feet and a gun appeared in his hand. He must have been hiding it under his hat. He stepped back slowly, gun cov- ering McBain mostly. Arnt reached the wide open window and stood di- rectly in front of it. *“T didn’t send anybody,” he snarled. “That means you, McBain. Well, I’m going to let you have it. I—” Arnt suddenly doubled up. The gun dropped from his hand. He half turned and then fell. His feet still touched the floor, but his body hung over the win- dow sill, head and arms dangling out- side. Abbott rushed toward him. So did McBain. There was a sharp click in the room. A voice—from the grave— boomed out a warning. “That’s how I was killed. Look out!” Abbott whirled. McBain was bear- ing down with both arms outstretched. The moment Abbott would have tried to lift Arnt, McBain was prepared to turmbie him out of the window. Abbott ducked under those arms, smashed a pair of hard blows to McBain’s middle and then straightened him up with an uppercut. McBain crumpled. - Arnt had slipped back into the room and was trying to pick up his gun when Abbott landed on him. Arnt was- n’t much to polish off. Abbott went to the phone and called headquarters. Then he picked up the gun and sat down. ETECTIVES arrived. Abbott said, “Book these two for mur- der. Keep them apart, and if they should wake up on the way to a cell, pretend they are resisting arrest. Question them individually and tell each that the other is making murder accusations. They’ll talk.” “And how they’ll talk,” a detective sergeant grunted. “These two been at each other’s throats for years.” Abbott grinned. “Don’t kid your- self. They’ve worked hand in glove and only pretended to be enemies. Take them away. I’ve got things to do.” When the office was cleared, Abbott turned to the inter-office annunciator on his desk. He spoke directly into it. “Miss Walker, will you come in, please ?”’ Florence Walker, slightly pink, walked slowly into the office. Abbott smiled at her and indicated a chair. “Let me guess how this was done,” he suggested. “First of all, Hamilton knew he was done for. Beaten in the election he was of no more use to Arnt and McBain. He knew they’d try to wipe him out because he knew too much—so he prepared a series of re- cordings. They got me deeply interest- ed in the case by summoning me to the funeral parlors. They gave me tips to pick up Arnt and McBain. One of that ‘pair sent a couple of men here for Hamilton’s papers which you conve- niently smuggled out before they ar- rived.” “So far, Mr. District Attorney, you’re perfectly right,” Florence said. “Good. Hamilton knew they’d try to DOOLK C©@