An Anthology of the Best Detective Stories
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25 Cents AN ANTHOLOGY OF THE BEST DETECTIVE STORIES. NEW AND OLD murders Coming in May, the third volume in the Regional Murder Series. Joseph Henry Jackson, editor, and Allan R. Bosworth, Anthony Boucher, John Bruce, Oscar Lewis, Alfred Meyers, Robert O’Brien, Lenore Glen Offord and Hildegarde Tielhet. *3.00 ELLERY QUEEN’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE DETECTIVE STORIES The Continental Op in Dead Yellow Women Dashiell Hammett 4 Dr. Jan Czissar in A Bird in the Tree Eric Ambler 42 Challenge to the Reader Hugh Pentecost 58 Thorpe Maxell in Sir Gilbert Murrell’s Picture Victor L. Whitechurch 74 G. 7 in The Tracy Enigma Georges Simenon 88 The Department of Dead Ends in The House-in-Your-Hand Murder Roy Vickers 100 CROOK STORY Prince Metcherski in A Gentleman Maurice Leblanc 85 CRIME STORIES Don’t Look Behind You Fredric Brown 48 The Wedding Dress Louis Bromfield 71 The Hit That Missed Walter Duranty 93 Asphodel Edwin Lanham 117 SOLUTIONS TO THIRD MONTHLY PRIZE CONTEST 126 publisher: Lawrence E. Spivak editor: Ellery Queen Vol. 9, No. 42, MAY 1947. Published monthly by The American Mercury, Inc., at 25£ a copy. Annual subscription $3.00 in V. S. and possessions and in the countries of the Pan-American Union; $3.50 in Canada; $4.00 in foreign countries. Publication office. Concord, N. //. Editorial and General offices, 570 Lexington Avenue, New York 22, N. Y. Copyright, 1947, by The American Mercury, Inc. Entered as second class matter August 28, 1941, at the post office at Concord, N. H., under the act of March 3,1879. Published also in a Talking-Record Edition by The American Printing House for the Blind, Louisville, Kentucky. Manufactured in the United States of America, Cover and Typography by George Salter Mildred Falk, Managing Editor Joseph W. Fbrman, Business Manager Charlotte R. Spivak, Associate Editor Robert P. Mills, Assistant Editor If it's MURDER you want 0 0 0 A BESTSELLER MYSTERY A new one at your newsstand every month Bestseller Mysteries are carefully selected by an editorial committee for their pace, literary quality and readability. Sometimes they are reprinted in full, but more often they are cut to speed up the story— always, of course, with the permission of the author or his publisher. The Bestseller Mystery now on sale is ~ SINNERS NEVER DIE By A. E. MARTIN (Abridgad Edition) Mr. Ford just happened to be looking in the window that dark night when blonde, young Mrs. Speek switched chocolates on her blind husband. He was considerably surprised nexrday to hear that Mr. Speek had been found shot—but not too surprised to work a little blackmail. Then Carlo Boldini, the traveling medium, came to town and his "revelations’’, for Mr. Ford at least, caused no end of unpleasantness. 'Remarkable novel ... let us have more of his stories, and soon." The New York Times In April—TWO BOOKS of such top quality that we had to make two CRIME CLUB Selections! ] She had an alibi which she didn’t believe herself. ©Elizabeth learned to hate Coca Himbert. She began dreaming of murdering her — and wanted so terribly to kill her that when Coca was murdered, Elizabeth believed she had done it. Her friends gave her a perfect alibi, but until another’s guilt could be proved, Elizabeth wouldn’t be¬ lieve it. $2.00 BEDEVILED by Libbie Block distinguished short story writer and author of Wild Calendar One death at the houseparty— and murder was in the air! When Rosalie saw Mackey loading the gun, fear engulfed her. After the first violent evening everything took on the aspect of a serene house- o party—except that one man was dead. And Rosalie knew that They were going to achieve something horrible unless she stopped them. $2.00 by John Godey Dashiell Hammett is branching out. True, he has not written a novel since the thin man which was published thirteen years ago (it's hard to believe, isn't it, that the thin man first appeared so long ago?), but the author of such fabulous detective novels as the Maltese falcon and the glass key can rest on his laurels for a long, long time — espe¬ cially if his success in so-called “supplementary fields” keeps increasing with the years. For surely Mr. Hammett has performed the literary hat trick with a vengeance: his books continue to sell in reprint editions of all prices; his movie credits are still associated with Class A productions; and his radio record is reaching an all-time high — at the time of this writing there are no less than three Hammett shows on the air (The Thin Man, The Fat Man, and Sam Spade) and rumors are flying that The Continental Op will join his brothers-of-the-blood on the ether any week n°w. And still Dashiell Hammett is branching out. From the grape¬ vine comes the report that Mr. Hammett is writing his first play for Broadway. That is good news indeedl Hammett has it in him to write a smash hit — remember his powerful screenplay of Lillian Heilman's watch on the Rhine? Will Mr. Hammett write a serious play? He can do it. Or will he stick to his first love — detection-and-melodrama? Selfishly, we hope Mr. Hammett makes his debut as a dramatist in the genre to which he has already made so important a contribution . It is many years since Mr. Hammett has written a new short story. He once told your Editor he might never go backt0 short-story form. We think he will, and until that happy day we shall continue to unearth Mr. Hammett’s buried treasures of the past and bring you such “un¬ known” stories as the Continental Op’s early adventure titled “Dead Yellow Women.” DEAD YELLOW WOMEN by DASHIELL HAMMETT SHE was sitting straight and stiff in the fold of her upper lids at the in one of the Old Man’s chairs outer eye-corners, half hidden by the when he called me into his office — dark rims of her spectacles. But there a tall girl of perhaps twenty-four, was no slant to her eyes, her nose broad-shouldered, deep-bosomed, in was almost aquiline, and she had more mannish grey clothes. That she was chin than Mongolians usually have. Oriental showed only in the black She was modern Chinese-American shine of her bobbed hair, in the pale from the flat heels of her tan shoes to yellow of her unpowdered skin, and the crown of her untrimmed felt hat. Copyright 1925, by Pro-Dist butors Publishing Co., Inc. 4 DEAD YELLOW WOMEN 5 I knew her before the Old Man name, translated into English, had introduced me. The San Francisco become Water Lily, and then, by papers had been full of her affairs for another step, Lillian. It was as Lillian a couple of days. They had printed Shan that she had attended an eastern photographs and diagrams, inter¬ university, acquired several degrees, views, editorials, and more or less and published a book on the nature expert opinions from various sources. and significance of fetishes, whatever They had gone back to 1912 to re¬ all that is or are. member the stubborn fight of the Since her father’s death, in 1921, local Chinese — mostly from Fokien she had lived with her four Chinese and Kwangtung, where democratic servants in the house on the shore, ideas and hatred of Manchus go to¬ where she had written her first book gether — to have her father kept out and was now at work on another. of the United States, to which he A couple of weeks ago, she had found had scooted when the Manchu rule herself stumped, so she said — had flopped. The papers had recalled the run into a blind alley. There was, excitement in Chinatown when Shan she said, a certain old cabalistic manu¬ Fang was allowed to land — insulting script in the Arsenal Library in Paris placards had been hung in the streets, that she believed would solve her an unpleasant reception planned. But troubles for her. So she had packed Shan Fang had fooled the Cantonese. some clothes and, accompanied by her Chinatown had never seen him. He maid, a Chinese woman named Wang had taken his daughter and his gold Ma, had taken a train for New York, — presumably the accumulated prof¬ leaving the three other servants to its of a life-time of provincial mis¬ take care of the house during her rule— down to San Mateo County, absence. where he had built what the papers On the train between Chicago and described as a palace on the edge of New York, the key to the problem the Pacific. There he had lived and that had puzzled her suddenly popped died in a manner suitable to a Ta Jen into her head. Without pausing even and a millionaire. for a night’s rest in New York, she So much for the father. For the had turned around and headed back daughter — this young woman who for San Francisco. At the ferry here was coolly studying me as I sat down she had tried to telephone her chauf¬ across the table from her: she had feur to bring a car for her. No answer. been ten-year-old Ai Ho, a very Chi¬ A taxicab had carried her and her nese little girl, when her father had maid to her house. She rang the brought her to California. All that door-bell to no effect. was Oriental of her now were the When her key was in the lock the features I have mentioned and the door had been suddenly opened by a money her father had left her.