Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

MURDER ON THE MESA. With the exception of the boy, who sat near the front door, which Depu- ty Style had carefully locked, all gazed at Jingling Jessup with the keenest in- terest. Jessup, standing near Danny, placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Danny here didn’t do it,” stated the editor. ‘ He must have wandered away from home just before the mur- der. I learned that he’s had frequent nosebleeds since his injury. He tore his clothes wandering around in the chaparral. “And Tex didn’t do it. Of course, I know that Tex didn’t know whether he did or not. But if Tex had had any money on the morning he came into town, needing a drink as bad as he did, he’d have saved some out, even if he hid the rest.” “That leaves the Chinaman,” ex- claimed the sheriff. “Exactly,” snapped Jessup. “ I have found the Chinaman. He is dead. He was murdered. His body was thrown over the cliff down into Rattlesnake Gorge, where no horse could ever go; where his murderer—who also mur- dered Dad Skinner—flung him after he had planted the cook’s pipe to make the evidence more damning!” “ Wait a moment!” The interruption came surprisingly from Hargrove; they had all been watching Jessup. Now they saw the friend of Dad Skinner half rise, his face white, but eyes blazing. “ How,” his voice trembled, “can you know all this?” “ Because,” answered Jingling Jes- sup slowly and distinctly, “I feel cer- tain that the man who killed Dad Skin- ner was a man that knew him well; who knew that he had all that gold in the safe. “TI believe he’s the same man that this week paid off a note at the bank which long had been due. He might even, thinking the Chinaman’s body would never be found, have offered a high reward for—” 139 _ “ A damn lie!” screamed Hargrove. And with the scream he drew his re- volver and fired directly at Jessup. The editor, however, had been watching him. He knew the emotions of men; knew that cornered coyotes will fight. Almost at the same moment that Hargrove fired, Jessup’s own gun spoke. Hargrove’s shot, missing Jessup, struck young Skinner alongside the head. Blood gushed forth, but, with a moan of surprise, the boy stood up and stared at them. There was no moan, though, from Hargrove. Jingling Jessup’s aim had been true. He was dead, a bullet through his head, just as old Dad Skinner had died. IV. EVERYTHING was serene as Jingling Jessup, busy with the work of get- ting out the livest newspaper that the Mesa Grande Tidings had ever been, hummed a little ditty. The rewards he had earned for the slayer of Dad Skin- ner would buy a new press. Danny Skinner, head grazed by the murderer’s self-accusing bullet, had been restored to sanity; the bullet had broken a blood clot. Sheriff Del Lewis and his deputy, Hank Style, entered and pulled him away from his desk. Hank was meek, all cockiness gone. Sheriff Lewis still wore a puzzled look. “Quit being mysterious, Jingling, and explain how you figured it out,” demanded the sheriff. “First,” Jessup told him presently, “ always look for a motive. Then look around and see who’s interested. And you can some time suspect, in peace as in war, that the biggest spy is waving the flag the loudest.” “Oh, I see,” mused the sheriff, “You mean Hargrove’s reward offer.” “ Precisely. I knew he wasn’t pros- perous. Then I found that he had paid off a long-due note suddenly.” Gomichooks (E@)