Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

could lead to trouble. I showed it to him after Varney gave it to me, and—” Cain was looking at hed as shic made another forge through the purse. But when she came abreast of Varney, her hand flashed to his gun and pushed the barrel away from me. The purse fell to the floor and then her little automatic pressed against Varney. “Drop it,’ " she said set “No- body moves.’ There wasn’t a sound, not a breath until Varney’s gun thudded to the carpet. The blonde was in command, but with a gun that wasn’t loaded. Only I knew the bullets were safely in my pocket. Cain was first to recover. “Mag- gie! You’re out of your head!” he barked. “You can’t get away with a highjacking job here! We'll—" Her voice was steady, her words direct. “The house is already sur- rounded. I'll. shoot -if anyone moves. Varney first. You—” | “You're. bluffing.” Cain’s face had turned from pink to a violent red. His eyes snapped; his heavy jaws shook. “Joe and Varney cruised back eight and ten miles to be sure that you weren’t being followed. You didn’t have our ad- dress until Varney gave it-to you in San Fernando. That was your last stop. There was no chance to pass it along.” “Tt has been passed.” She was cool now. Cool, and moving al- most by habit, like a Gil. who feels RETURN TRIP. fear until H-hour and. then the sand is under his feet and it’s carry on the old routine come hell of high water. “Every turn,” she was saying now. “A small walkie-talkie passed the word. Two years ago you made it. You ran the counter- feit money down here and killed the stooge. But this time the tail was out in front. Out in front, Mr. Cain, directed and kept in- formed by the walkie-talkie, shift- ing a street this way and a street that as needed. It was simple.” ~ I caught a look of anxiety on her face. She expected help any second, undoubtedly thinking it should have been here by now. And she looked determined enough to hold out until they came. Fine, except the gun she held was completely useless and the word. hadn’t been passed over the walkie-talkie since San Fernando. I’d pulled the tube; the set was dead. There just wasn’t going to be any help for her. Tension: showed in every face. I glanced at the 45 Varney had been forced to drop. Even as I looked, the corner of my eye picked up the movement across the room of Joe’s hand. I dived for the gun, just as Maggie’s automatic clicked on an empty chamber. She gasped. Varney piled on me, his hand reaching for the gun, but I'd already closed on it. A gun barked. I squeezed off a pair of fast ones, saw Joe pitch and double up. Be- fore I could turn the automatic on Varney, he’d flopped on the floor, 133 EOPMICLOOOKS5(EO