Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

eyes moved to the top shelf of a tiered what-not. . It was there, a cup with four figured handles. It wasn’t quite so dingy, perhaps, but it was unmis- takably the twin of the other chal- ice. No fake, no imitation. Even from several feet away, Mitch knew it was genuine. Unerring in- stinct told him it was, whispered that here was money—big money— as it had when he saw the first cup. He caught the proprietor’s eye, nodded. “That cup,” he said. “My wife likes it. I don’t like my wife.” “You got company.” The man looked at him stolidly. “How -much don’t you like her?” “A hundred dollars worth.” “A hundred dollars. And you ain’t in no big hurry? You don’t want to give me the rush act?” “TI wouldn’t think of it,” said Mitch. “Well, all right. People come here thinking I’m gonna we, ev- ery time they holler frog . . .” The grumbling words trailed away, as he turned and reached down the cup. He laid it on the back bar, and began wrapping it in an old newspaper. Mitch grimaced wryly. It was no wonder the guy was running a dump like this. With his tempera- ment, he was lucky to have any kind of business. The man turned around again, and set the cup on the counter. Mitch took the wallet from his ~ hip pocket. It was empty. 4, The proprietor stared at Mitch, a stubborn frown wrinkling his forehead. Mitch went on talking, the words issuing from his mouth in a suave and steady stream. He was very convincing; the ability to be convincing was his stock in trade. Slowly, the proprietor soft- ened up. “All right,” he ‘said, at last, “we'll start all over. You were ly- ing about the dame. You don’t like her maybe, but you're really after the cup. And you want it because it’s worth heavy sugar to you.” “Well. I wouldn’t put it that way exactly.” “Put it this way, then. What do I get out of it, and when do I get it?” “In twenty-four hours. Just give me twenty-four hours.” “How much in_ twenty-four hours? And don’t give me no stuff . about a hundred dollars. The price has gone up.” “Well .. .” Mitch hesitated. The girl had that grand she’d nicked him for. Since she didn’t trust Doc, the grand was all she could offer this guy. So if he was promised eleven hundred or ain be twelve to cinch things . 64° ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE ECOMNICGLOOKSs EO