Page:Detective Story Magazine, Mar 5 1916 (IA dsm 1916 03 05).pdf/129



By Burns Patterson

YOU lie!" The words were snapped out like the spiteful crack of a revolver by Captain McCarthy, whose great hulking form towered over the cowering figure of Wellington van Sandt.

"You murdered your father!" shouted McCarthy, as his eyes, with a baleful glare, held the red-rimmed orbs of the younger man.

Aside from a white shaft of light that played on the features of the youth thus accused of murder, the room was in semidarkness. McCarthy was resorting to that timeworn instrument of torture of the police, known as "the third degree."

"You murdered your father, I tell you!" yelled McCarthy.

"I didn't," replied young Van Sandt. His eyes were bloodshot, and in them there was the hunted look of a creature in fear of death.

"You lie; you did! Here's the gun with which you finished the old man!" And McCarthy shoved the revolver, with which he declared the crime had been committed, before Van Sandt's eyes. "Your finger prints are on its wooden butt. It has been identified as your gun."

impact of flesh agamst flesh, as the heavy open hand of MeCarthy fell full on the white cheek of the alleeed murderer. Van Sandt’s head went back with a jolt.

“You've told me that before. You know-you are lymg. You've done nothimg but lie ever since you have been in this room. murder of your. father !*

“Oh, Lord, stop it, will you?* pleaded Van Sandi. with tears in his eyes. “Stop it! I tell you I didn’t kill my father. The gun was stolen from my room by the man who mur dered dad, I tell you.”

arly 8

You're guilty of the:

“Grasping the young man by either _ shoulder, McCarthy jerked him to his _