A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, April 1950 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

33 “Well, then—when do you start back? Monday ?” Tony nodded. “Well, look here. I shall be down Shropshire way myself on Sunday. Sup- pose I pick you up at ten Monday morn- ing? Then I could have a word with Miss Kefra and wipe this blot off my scutcheon.”’ “Ye-es,”’ Tony assented, very dubious- ly. “Fine!” Gees exclaimed. “Now what’s the address?” “It’s the Grange, Barnby-under-Hed- lington. I’ve never been there, so I can’t tell you anything about the road—” “Leave it to me,’ Gees interposed, “and count on seeing me somewhere round ten on Monday morning.” “TI really must go now, Gees,” Tony said, glancing at his wristwatch. “Aw- fully sorry about this. misunderstand- ing—”’ “Tl clear it all up before I fetch you away on Monday morning,” Gees in- terrupted, accompanying him out into the corridor. “But if you’re looking into this affair of the missing child—” Tony half-ques- tioned, pausing in his stride. “Oh, my part in that is finished, now— I’ve handed it over to Inspector Cramp- ton.” He went into Miss Brandon’s room after closing the door on Tony. She said: “So I was futile, after all.” “On the other hand, Miss Brandon, this bee in the lady’s bonnet—the one that fetched Tony here with murder in his eyes as soon as he had said good-by to her—it clinches things. People don’t imagine they’re being shadowed like that unless there’s some reason for shadowing them.” “You suspect—what ?” she asked. “Not that she had anything to do with the dis- appearance of that child, surely?” ‘“‘An open mind,” he answered, “‘is’ as useful as a pocket corkscrew.” He held one up as he spoke. “I might be able to tell you more when I get back next Tuesday.” “But I thought it was to be Monday.” “You'd be surprised. Meanwhile, Miss Brandon, Vincent took the count in the Gravenor entrance hall today, and is now one of the unemployed, thanks to me.” She put the teapot down on the tray and stared at him, silently. “Well—that’s something,” she said nervously. “But—but I wish you'd tell me—about Miss Kefra—” “TI assure you there’s absolutely noth- ing to tell—yet,” he said. He smiled at her, but she found no smile of her own with which to answer. | CHAPTER 6 The Cats of Sekhmet LENDERER, even, than she nor- mally appeared, and to Tony Briggs bewilderingly alluring, Cleo Kefra let him hold her close for almost a minute, and then drew away. “Your friend will be here at any mo- ment,” she said. “Have you had break- fast—”’ she glanced at the table— “or did you wait for me?” “Of course I waited, darling,” he told here. “As if—but there’s a wire from him. I shall have to ask you to turn the car out to take me to Cheltenham, after REPORTER REPORTS ON SWITCH TO CALVERT WASHINGTON, D. C.—Arnold Fine, Washington reporter and night club editor, flashes this news about today’s whiskies. “Switch to Calvert,” he says. “I have. Calvert honestly is lighter, smoother, milder.’ CALVERT RESERVE BLENDED WHISKEY—86.8 PROOF—65% GRAIN NEUTRAL SPIRITS. CALVERT DISTILLERS CORP., N.Y.C.