Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

Pruyn smiled. “I walked right in carrying\my bag and wearing some blue coveralls and a cap I'd bought the day before. Oh—do you want the name and address of the cloth- ing store in order to verify—” “That won’t be necessary at the moment,” Bendix cut in. “Just tell us about the crime first. We'll have time to pick up the details later.” “Oh, well, fine. I just thought— well, I put’ down my bag and—” “Bag?” “Yes. I carry a wrench and things in the bag.” “What for?” “To use as murder weapons,” smiled Pruyn, blinking. “I like to take them all along each time and use the one that fits.” “How do you mean?” “Fits the personality. I simply choose the weapon which is, in my opinion, best suited. Each person has a distinctive personality.” “Then—” Bendix watched the little man’s eyes behind the heavy lenses, “—you’ve killed before?” “Of course, Lieutenant. Five times prior to Mrs. Sloane. Five ladies.” “And why have you waited to come to the police? Why haven't you confessed before now?” “Because I chose not to. Because my goal had not been reached.” “Which was?” “An even six. In the beginning I determined to kill exactly six women and then give myself up. Which I have done. Every man should have a goal in life. Mine was six murders.” “I see. Well—to get back to Mrs. Sloane. What happened after she let you in?” “IT put down my bag and walked back to her.” “Where was she?” “In the middle of the room, watching me. Smiling. Very friendly. Asking me © questions about how the converter worked. Not suspecting a thing. Not un- Ty er “Until what, Mr. Pruyn?” “Until I wouldn’t answer her. I just stood there, in front of her, smiling, not saying a word.” “What did she do?” “Got nervous. Quit smiling. Asked me why I wasn’t working on the set. But, I didn’t say any- thing. I just watched the fear grow deep in her eyes.” The little man paused; he was sweating, breathing hard now. “Fear is a really wonder- ful thing to watch in the eyes of a woman, Lieutenant, a lovely thing to watch.” “Go on.” “When she reached a certain point, I knew she’d scream. So, before she did, I clapped one hand over her mouth and kicked her.” Bendix drew in his breath ‘sharply. “What did you say?” “I said I kicked her—in the stomach—to knock the wind out of her. Then she couldn’t scream.” Quickly Bendix stubbed out his cigarette. Maybe, he thought, may- 20 ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE COMMCOOCKKS. CO