5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 126: what you’re looking at

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

red party dress splashed out upon the dark blue of the rug. The dancing fire- light added strength to the rich rose in her cheeks. Lord, she was a beauty! It was a low, contemptible trick he planned to play. Softly as a half-heard echo, but loud enough to drown com- punction, came the words of the mys- terious stranger in the park. “He who would succeed must dare to defy convention.”... E HAD let out almost all the water from his radiator when he had parked in the driveway. They came abreast of the low picket fence that shut Mount Holly Cemetery from the back road he had chosen as a “short-cut.” The little gage on the dashboard glowed fiery red in warning. “The darn thing’s empty again!” he groaned. Valborg turned questioning eyes on him. Throughout the drive she had been silent and tense. Once or twice he’d sto- len sidelong glances at her, noticed how she sat with hands clasped in her lap, her eyes directed straight before her, as though she strove to see something be- yond her vision’s range. His story had struck deeper in her mind than he had dared to hope. “What, Paul?” she asked. “My radiator’s dry again. I should have had it fixed this afternoon, but I thought I could get by tonight.” He shrugged his shoulders in mock resigna- tion. “Looks as if there’s nothing to do but get out and rustle up a refill.” “But where can we get water here? There’s not a house for half a mile or more.” “Afraid of the fiery ghost of Mount Holly ?” “The fiery ghost?” “That’s what I asked. This is Mount Holly Cemetery.” With a vague, all-in- clusive gesture, he swung his arm toward the dark patch of tree-grown land upon their right. “This is where the fiery ghost comes rising from the ground. All the same, there’s bound to be a well or hydrant there, where I can get a bucketful of water. Mind waiting here, or would you rather come into the cemetery with me?” “T’ll wait,” she answered. “All right.” He reached into the lug- gage trunk and found the canvas bucket, all loaded with his stage properties. “Sure you won’t be afraid?” “I probably will be Paul, but—” “T’ll be right back,” he broke in. “If I see the specter coming at me, I’ll let out a yell. Will you come to my help?” “T’ll come, Paul,” she responded so- berly. “You know that—” “Of course I do,” he interrupted. “You’re a true friend, Val!” Reaching through the opened window of the car, he found her hand and squeezed it. In the dashboard light he saw a quick flush come into her cheeks. Poor Val, she loved him so! He was a heel. But through his brain rang the re- frain: “Dare to defy convention!” “Be seeing you,” he said cheerfully and drew himself up to the fence top. “Keep your chin up and your ears open for my cry for succor.” This was going to be almost too easy, he assured himself as he picked a path between the tombstones. He’d been over the terrain that afternoon. There, by the van Repplier plot, where the copse of hemlock made a solid-black background for a white face and blond hair, was just the spot. Workmen had been busy on the old monument, scrubbing it with wire brushes, spraying it with dilute acid to eat off the grime of years. The grass about the base was seared and brittle as if burned wherever the acid had touched it. “Have to watch this stuff,” one of the men had explained when he’d comment- ed on their rubber gloves, aprons, and heavy goggles. “Seems like when this dilute muriatic acid mixes with the moss from these old stones, it forms a poison that just destroys human tissue. If you’ve got a cut, even a tiny scratch on your hand, it’ll give you an infection that’ll take a year to cure.” Avoiding the acid-scarred patch of turf, Sulkas drew the things from their concealment in the bucket. A Hallowe’en ghost costume— long white linen sheet with hoodlike top to cover up the head, a skull-faced mask with eyes of green isinglass, the little pocket flashlight, with its green bulb, set just below the false-face to illumi- nate it. Then his camera with its flash- 126 COmiclbooks @) (C(O)