5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

114 coming here myself until late this after- noon. What made you so darn sure I'd come?” “Don’t talk so loud, George. Come in here and sit down. Matter of fact, we mustn’t talk at all, after a while. Silence is almost as important as darkness. I’m hoping there will be a manifestation to- night.” “Rats!” I said. “There aren’t any— Oh, skip it!” A haunted house isn’t the place to get into an argument about haunted houses, I thought. “But you didn’t answer my question,” I said. “What made you think I’d come here?” “Just a hunch,” said Jan. “I didn’t come here to meet you, George. I’m expecting other company.” “Other company?” I echoed blankly. For an instant I thought he meant the ghost. “Scollini,” said Jan, as though that explained everything. “The magician ?” “Yes. Have you met him yet?” “No,” I said. “The Psychic Research members I’ve met thus far are Pollock, Wegs, and Stanton Waldo.” “Scollini’s smarter,” said Jan. “Pol- lock and Wegs aren’t fools, but Scollini has methods which they lack. He knows the tricks of the trade inside out. He’s exposed dozens of mediums.” “The devil you say. You admire him for that when you say you believe in mediums ?” “Don’t be an ass, George. Because I believe in psychic phenomena doesn’t mean I believe in fake mediums as well as real ones. And there are probably a hundred fakes to every known genuine one.” “By the way,” I said, “if Scollini is coming here, how’d you know I wasn’t he?” Jan laughed. “Because of the noise you made tip- toeing around. Scollini would either walk openly, or I wouldn’t have heard him at all. He said he’d be late.” Then, as abruptly as it had happened last night, the house fell down again— or seemed to! Bump—thud—bump— bang! FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE IV § omermne was falling down the stairs. I jumped up and I heard Jan gasp and get to his feet, too. “Have you got a flash?” I asked. But by that time Jan had it on, and its spot, feebler than the bright light I’d the night before, shone through the double doorway and on the thing that lay at the foot of the stairs. It was a body! Again! I ran toward it, and so did Jan. Then, a yard away from it, I put out my hand to stop Jan. “Wait,” I said. “That’s not a man— that’s a wax figure!” ae was a chuckle from down the all. “Your eyesight is very good, my young friend,” said a voice that was not Jan’s. Jan turned the flashlight that way. “Hello, Scollini,” he said. I’d have taken him for the devil, my- self. He had the face and the build for it, as well as the voice and the clothes. A black top-hat and black magician’s cape. He was tall and slender and had a long, thin face with a pointed chin. There was a devilish grin on his face. He stood so straight that you didn’t realize he was old until you noticed that his hair was pure white. “And you’re George Rice, then?” he said. “Waldo told me you’d be here, so I came along.” “Just a minute,” I said. “This dummy never fell down the stairs. The wax would have cracked.” He chuckled again. “Jan was right about you, Rice. You do think quickly. No, it didn’t fall down the stairs. I placed it there. The sound of the fall is a re- corded sound effect. I played it on a portable phonograph around the cor- ner.” “But why?” I wanted to know. “What’s it all about?” He strolled forward toward us, and I noticed that the thick crepe-rubber soles of his shoes made no sound at all. “To eliminate a possibility, Mr. Rice I hope you’ll forgive me. But I wanted to be sure that no one had played a practical joke on you last night.” “It wasn’t any dummy I saw and touched last night if that’s what you AMICLOOO co S (CC) im