Avon Fantasy Reader No. 7 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

120 FRANK GRUBER “Back,” snarled Parker. “Get back or I’ll blow the lot of you to hell.” “Don’t shoot!” cried the policeman. “I’m sure Mr. Arthur won’t press his | complaint. We got our duty to do, but don’t—” Parker fired into the solid mass of blue. In the confined quarters he couldn’t miss. The aricient Navy Colt made a tremendous noise as it went off. Pclice revolvers barked in reply and bullets splattered along the narrow hall. The aiming was very poor, however. The policemen were too demoralized. They were already trying to retreat and as Parker charged, firing into their midst, they broke completely and pitched down the staircase. One or two lost their footing and tripped the others and the lot of them went down in a solid pic. _ Except a couple who remained on the hall floor upstairs. — : Parker followed to the stairwell and sent one final shot after them. Then the hammer clicked on an-empty cartridge. With an oath, Parker drew back. He tried to snap out the cylinder and found that it was a stationary one. In fact, the revolver didn’t use cartridges. It had a series of tiny nipples over which were fitted smal! copper caps. The loads were evidently forced into the cham- bers from the front. In short, it was a cap and ball pistol. And Parker, having ~ used_up all six loads, couldn’t reload. 7 He swore roundly and retreated down the hall. There was a fire-escape at the rear of the building. He navigated it successfully, coming down to the ground in the backyard. He clambered over a wooden fence and scooted through a semi-dark hallway of a house and finally emerged upon another street. . : ee | By that time he had put the gun away under his coat and walked swiftly up the street. At the corner he turned east and found a drug store. Entering he went to the telephone at the rear of the store and consulted the classified phone directory. He found what he sought under “G” and nodded in satis-_ faction. : : : Twenty minutes later, John. Parker stepped out of an elevator in a dingy building on Wells Street and proceeded toward a ground-glass door. He pushed it open and entered a gloomy gunsmith’s shop. The walls were hung with scores of guns of all shapes and sizes and in all stages of repair. A fat, bald man with grimy hands got up from a work bench and came up behind a glass counter. “Yes, sir,” he said. “What can I do for your” “TPve a gun,” Parker said. “I’d like you to look at it.” He. took it out from under his coat.and extended it to the gunsmith. The latter took it and sniffed the muzzle. | “tv's. been tised lately,” ~-. EComichooks.com