Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

I beat the ‘boss to a reply. “You got a deal; tough: guy. Toss your gun- on the desk. and [ll ‘try you for size.’ : “Shut ‘up!” hey was fat-boy again, only now he ‘had lunged to his feet, his face-the-color of a split beet. He glared across the desk at the pair of us. “We're wasting time. I run this show.” Then he swung back: to the blonde. “You're through. Not just the King; you’re through in Reno. Get out of town. Get out by tomorrow noon. I’ll per- sonally look up your address in the employees’ file and check to see that you’re out of wherever the hell you live. Understand?” Maggie nodded, her eyes down, the. handkerchief still pressed tightly against her face. “And you, mister—we won’t be needing you any more either. I don’t give a damn when you leave town, but stay out of the Silver King. You hear me, boy? Stay away from my place.” Before I could get in any dees! Maggie got up and came over to me. Her fingers found my arm. “Come on, Matt. We’d better go.” Her voice was low and a little scared. She was right, of course. We'd played with fire and we were getting off with only a small burn. Akers sat behind his desk, a “nasty scowl on his thick face. Two of ‘his :hired- help ranged behind him..’The other, the-thin jerk with the side-of-the-mouth talk and an over-tough look was leaning RETURN TRIP > against the door. He didn’t move. - “Let them out, Varney:” It was the boss speaking from behind us, but Varney had to give us one more sneer. I worked: my arm free of Maggie’s hand and Akers saw me do it. “Varney!” he seeped out. Hard-boiled ee over to lee us pass. 3. The blonde had a second-floor apartment and a cool evening breeze was beginning to roll’ in - from the desert. We sat on the lounge, a couple of empty coffee cups on the glass-topped table in front of us. I leaned back and tried to see how things had been and what thread ran through the whole thing that tied it all together. Wirth was holding up my truck. A blonde tossed four hundred bucks my way in a crooked card game and we were caught. She lost her job. “Tm sorry as hell about your job, Maggie—” “Thanks, Matt. Thanks, but we both know where we stand. It was nice of you to take the blame back in Akers’ office. I'll always remem- ber ‘that, Matt. But this one was really on me all the way. I started it; you didn't. Your head feel all right?” Her soft hand ‘came over my shoulder and stopped’ at my neck, her fingers gently working along the side of my face. I met her eyes 117 COMIC OOO KS.(€O)