5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

THE GHOST BREAKERS “Tell me all,” Jan begged, and I said, “Shut up, Jan.” ! pas boys had really gone to town on that story. It was a howl, the way they told it. A howl, that is, to every- body but me. From now on, maybe the Psychic Research bunch would use my services, but nobody else in his right mind would. “Let me at that phone, Jan,” I said. I called the morgue and the four hos- pitals that took emergency cases and I drew five blanks. No tramps or bums brought in, drunk or injured, or both. Another call told me that he hadn’t been or do I go to his home?” “His home. Listen, George, about this manifestation. Can you tell me about it?” “All right,” I gave in. “I’ll tell you. But let’s eat while we talk. I haven’t had breakfast, and you say you haven’t had lunch.” So, over eggs and coffee, I had to tell the story once more. Til An HOUR later, at Wegs’ office, his secretary told me to go right in. Zenas IT'S ONLY MONEY THE LEGAL GOINGS-ON which occur after a man is put behind bars can cost a considerable amount of folding stuff, as is evidenced by the famous Saceo and Vanzetti case which took place in Boston. Although it is still a popular parlor game to argue about whether they were guilty or otherwise—and the evidence indicates otherwise—the fact remains that, it was one of the most expensive murder trials of modern times. Between May, 1921, when the trial began and August, 1927, when the two men were executed, their defense committee spent approximately $325,000. In addition, it is estimated that millions of dollars were ped to plead clemency via newspaper space, special petitions to the government, an mass meetings by the public at large. —Manley E. David vagged. Nobody with a bruised face had been picked up on any charge. “There was a call for you,” Jan said. “Stanton Waldo wants to see you this afternoon.” I whistled. “The oil millionaire! Don’t tell me— Had he read the papers?” “T suppose so,” Jan said. “He’s a mem- | ber of the society and he’d be interested. More interested than most of them be- cause he’s less skeptical than most.” “You know him, Jan?” “Not me, George. I don’t move in such exalted circles. I know Pollock and Wegs and Scollini, and that’s all. But I made an appointment for you to see Waldo at four o’clock. Is that okay ?” “Sure,” I said. “Has he got an office, Wegs frowned when he saw me. He shook hands with all the cheerfulness of an undertaker. “Rice,” he said, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to use you any more. Not for a long time, anyway.” I didn’t quite get it. “I’m sorry if you don’t like my work, Mr. Wegs.” “It’s not your work, at all, Mr. Rice. It’s the publicity. You’ve seen the papers, haven’t you? Our group doesn’t like publicity at all, and publicity of that kind, well—” “Oh,” I said. “It ties up with us. We want what- ever investigator we use to remain un- dercover and not be known as a detective DOO (C(O) AMUG S (C(O)