Action for Men, May 1960 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

~ a ail a. ‘ 7h ¢ . ‘ In the nightclubs of wartime New Delhi, Lucky met the world’s most exotic women. During WW Il, when the Japanese were overrunning Asia, the Allies found Charles “Lucky” Miller (I.) in New Delhi. His criminal record at Scotland Yard was a mile long, but he possessed a skill hard to come by: forging bank notes. The British threatened him with a heavy jail sentence unless he helped them undermine Japanese morale by fake money and fake news. The man came through—not as a patriot, but as a hater, and Lucky had learned to hate the hard way. LUCKY MILLER quest which he attributed to his charm, suavity, and man-of-the-world ap- pearance. How was he to know that for two days his quarry had been stalking him? An hour later, Gabruhindi was of- fering some whiskey in his print shop to the slim and elegant English girl. She regarded him with the deference she might have paid to the Sahib Cary Grant or that other tall American of the cinema, the Sahib Gable, he thought. ‘Tt was good fortune that I was be- hind you when you dropped your handkerchief, dear lady,” he babbled, trying to remember what his Holly- wood heroes would have said under similar circumstances. “Here, have another whiskey, very expensive, mem-sahib.”’ : “You Indian gentlemen are so gal- lant it just sweeps a girl off her feet,” Ellie murmured archly, trying to over- come her revulsion and patting Mr. Gabruhindi’s inky hand. Below in the alley, she heard the clink of metal on metal and her eyes, their lashes heavy with mascara, involuntarily looked to- ward the window. Was Lucky out there? If he was, he was damned clumsy to bump the ladder against a garbage can and give the whole show away. The printer might suspect something and kick her out of his shop. But the Indian laughed in his high- pitched way and said reassuringly: . “It’s the cats, just cats, mem-sahib. New Delhi is full of them. When peo- ple go without food, the cats have even less to eat. It is this war.” . His pudgy fingers were on her knee and moving cautiously up her thigh. The printer liked raw onions with his meals. The smell of the onions did nothing to enhance his meager charm. “How about some wireless music, chum? There’s nothing like a nifty dance band to put a girl in the mood for fun,” Ellie said brightly. He giggled and stood up, a real Mr. Five-by-Five. “He-hee! You are quite right, lady. We shall have a fine time dancing, and I know the bunny hug. Then you will share my room with me tonight, yes? I will buy you nylon stockings if you are kind to me.” He busied himself with a German radio atop a type cabinet in a corner. of the shop. Again she heard the clank of metal in the alley—louder this time. It was the aluminum ladder Lucky carried in his car, a collapsible but — sturdy affair which was ideal for sec- ond-story jobs like this one. Comicoooks.conm