5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

DANCE, PRETTY MAIDEN a sober, law-abiding people as primi- tives ga, had the bloodiest religion that ever existed anywhere.” “He thought their music explained that?” “Their sacerdotal music,” Siddington qualified. ‘““As you know, the priests of many ancient cultures had secrets— powers, if you like—by which they con- trolled the masses. Hil believed that the Aztec hierarchy had created a music and ritual which were absolutely hyp- notice in their power to arouse normal people to the frenzy needed for their participation in the bloody sacrifices.” “Do you believe that?” Ollin asked bluntly. “Oh no, no,” spreading his hands. Siddington disclaimed, “Still—” E LOOKED with a sort of frowning distrust at the phonograph. Ollin went over and set the turntable spin- ning and dropped the needle onto the record. The drums pulsed out with a low aching beat. Ollin had told himself that the ugly effect of the music that morn- ing had been partly due to the associa- tions with the murder room. Now he was not so sure. A weird tightness seemed to gather under his diaphram as the drums goaded at his heart. Then, when the flutes broke through and the human chanting began to echo their blood call, it was like a dry, hot wind that seared across the senses until they screamed for relief. How much was real, how much the product of his imagination? Ollin could not answer. He turned abruptly. Siddington sat pale, but determinedly deadpan. The girl, on the other hand, was going to pieces quite openly. Her lips were parted, her terrified eyes glued to the machine. As the sobbing blood chant mounted to a crescendo, she raised @ hand and clutched at her throat. Then, in a rattle of drums like hail- stones, the music swept to its end. The girl’s eyes flew to Ollin’s face. She gasped, “But there wasn’t any cry!” Ollin cut the machine off, went and stood by her chair. “No, there wasn’t any cry—on the record,” he said. “‘But there was a cry, ry the cry of a woman about to be mur- dered. And I believe you heard it to the accompaniment of this same music. That’s why you’ve been afraid to hear it again.’ Siddington came to his feet. “Hold on! You can’t badger her. You’ve got no right to ask her to say anything which—” “Which might incriminate her?” Ol- lin snapped. ‘‘All right.” He laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘You want to talk or not?” “You’d better have a lawyer,” Sid- dington urged. The girl’s head dropped onto her folded arms. “No, no, 1 want to talk,” she sobbed. ‘I’ve held it in as long as I can. I hated her and I’m glad she’s dead and J—” “Edna!” Siddington snapped. “Watch your tongue, girl.” “Why should 1?” The tear-wet face came up defiantly. “I’m guilty of her death. When you took me home last night, you commented on how upset I was. Well, you don’t know half of it. I went to my room and pretended to go to bed, but instead I crawled out a window, walked to a cab stand, and was driven to that girl’s place—” “Miss Ferry,” Ollin interrupted, “if you want a lawyer—” “No, no, leave me alone. I want to tell it. You see, I had reached a break- ing point. I had suspected all along that little hussy was just playing Hil for his money. Now 1 was sure of it. When he failed to call as he had promised, I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I decided to go to that place and face them both.” She paused for breath, trembling de- termined to finish. ‘‘When I got there,” she went on, “I just couldn’t go in. The idea of causing a sordid scene was just too much.” “One moment,” Ollin said. “Did you see Kern there with the girl?” Edna Ferry hesitated. “Well— Yes. Now that I’m telling it, I'll tell it straight. They passed the window; they were laughing, and Hil was holding a drink. That was when I decided I’d better telephone him first.” “So you went away from the place?” “Yes, just as that horrible music started. I went to a telephone booth in ANICLOOO@ (CO S (C(O) mM