The Pin Up Girl Murders

From habit Don Kemp's slate gray eyes went to the unusual "pin-up
girl" on the wall above his drawing table. His eyes became colder and
he uttered an oath through clenched teeth.

Now the pin-up girl certainly was not such as to arouse the anger of a
red blooded lieutenant of army engineers. The scanty sarong of the
pin-up picture proved that she had everything the most discriminating
male might demand, from her massed golden hair to slender ankles and
tiny feet.

"Smile, blast you, smile!" exploded Kemp audibly. "So my shy, little
Tina will be far from the old home town tonight. Yeah! In person! To
show off her pin-up charms to all the other boys of the steenth
engineer corps! An' I placed you special, before I found out half the
wolves in the company had the same picture!"

In the meantime, my dear Tina, besides bringing sweet dreams to a
whole pack of wolves, you've been faithfully guarding the plans which
may alter the whole outcome of the war and shorten its time.

The lieutenant engineer spoke with confidence. For it appeared obvious
that the recent prowler had been seeking other valuables, or, if the
tank prints was the objective, it had been missed. Otherwise two rooms
overlooking the white beach and the Atlantic would not have been so
thoroughly searched.

"My beloved Tina!" he muttered again through set teeth, as he touched
the apparently immovable and pasted black cardboard and it slid to one
side. "Tina who has become the pet of the engineers, and who--"

The come-on eyes of the golden-haired girl still seemed to be watching
him as the black background slid to one side. Her fixed smile was
unchanged even as Kemp bit off his words, jerked a hand to the wall,
and then started swearing low and steadily.

"Gone?" His gasped exclamation was a question, as if he could not
believe it "Gone! They've got the tank plans!"

THE wall safe he himself had installed behind the cardboard of the
pin-up girl had a sliding door. He saw that its combination had been
solved by an expert. The blueprints vital to all of the tests now
being carried on by the--th corps were in alien hands.

Don Kemp slipped the pin-up girl back into place instinctively as he
heard footsteps outside his door. Ragged nerves sent his hand fumbling
at his revolver holster. The thieving spy would scarcely be returning,
but Kemp's brain was seething that such a theft could have been
accomplished.

He was compelled to recall that there were civilian employees about
the big beach hotel given over to the engineering unit. Of course, all
had been checked and double-checked for loyalty. But this war had
developed some strange and dangerous enemies, even among those who
could prove American birth.

When the steps halted and there was a quick rap at the door, Don Kemp
said, "Come in!"

Red-headed, round-faced "Legs" McCarthy, the corps photographer,
pushed his good-natured countenance into the crack of the door. Don
Kemp was still standing under the replaced pin-up girl, his lean face
darkened by his scowl of suspicion and rage.