10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

} ) ») ae Se ae \ i My St wes the salt of the earth, Mr. Hinkey. I wonder if I only imagined he was seri- ous when he threw a shoe at me that time, Oh, Mr. Deeds!” I tell her the pooch needs an M.D. We drive Mr. Deeds to one right away. The vet is named Dr. Dane Bernard. He gives Mr. Deeds the works, some of which was a whiff of chloroform, and then takes an instrument and probes at Mr. Deed’s craniym. Whai does he come | up with but a pieee of stone of some kind, “He evidently run into something or somebody bounced a dornick off his head,” the vet says. ““He’ll be lots better by tomorrow. Call me if he ain’t.” “irs. fritehy,” | yelp, as we lug Mr. Deeds out in a basket. “We must hurry downtown to the D.A. und free an inocent man of murder. Herman Zelch is as in- nocent of the crime as | am.” “Mr, Hinkey, let’s go back to the doc- tor and let him look at you.” Lown rown, everybody, especially Hambone Noonan, laughs at me. I show them the piece of mineral that came out of Mr. Deed’s head and state very indignantly that I will be very glad to prove everything, “Come up to Mrs, Fritchy’s,” I says, “and 1 will reconstruct the erime and | = produce the assassin,” —_ ARNE i SSNs > © Z PAA AA Ve “Let’s humor-him,” the D.A. says. “I haven’t had much fun lately. My brother- in-law moved in a month ago and—” “Alvin, this will set crime detection baek fifty years,” Noonan says. “I would- n’t miss this for the world.” - We all go up to Mrs. Fritchy’s house. The D.A. sits down in the chair where we found Sylvanus and says, “‘Let the show start, Alvin.” “Awright,” I says. “See that window shade all the way up? There is the bed in the corner where Mr. Deeds, the bull- dog, slept. Sylvanus pulled down the shades and settled lowr for a quiet eve- “ning with that magazine on the floor there. Lepidoptera Lore. Mr. Deeds got drowsy and dreamed of canine Hedy La- marr’s, “Suddenly the shade flew up and made a sound like a rifle shot. Mr. Deeds bolted in panic. He is along in years and his eyesight is not 20-20. He ran kerwhacke into the pedestal there and toppled the bronze statue of Mercury. Mr. Deeds, I would imagine, weighs more than Si- natra, and don’t forget he had a good start.” “Oh, brother,” the D.A. says. “Just let me finish,” I sniffs. “I have the piece of stone that the vet took out of the lump on Mr. Deed’s noggin right here. The M.D. specializing in healing four-legged creatures will testify. Well, the bronze statue fell off the pedestal,