Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

But! Would the girl have picked his pocket if she intended to hang around? It didn’t seem likely. She’d have to be a lot dumber than she acted to come near this place. She didn’t know anything about antiques; she was scared and distrustful. So she’d taken him for his roll, thinking she was get- ting four grand instead of one, and now... Still, maybe not. He couldn't be sure, and this was no time to take chances. “Well?” the proprietor frowned. “What d’ya say, Mac?” “TI tell you what [Il do,” Mitch said. “Whatever you’re offered for the cup I'll give you two hundred dollars more.” “What the hell does that mean? Suppose I ain’t offered anything?” “Then,” said Mitch smoothly. “You get two hundred dollars. Fair enough?” The man frowned sesicetidiasly: He scratched his head, a doubtful look coming into his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so,” he admitted. “Two hun- dred bucks on top of anything, from zero on up. Yeah, that sounds okay.” He gave Mitch a look of surly approval. He said he liked a guy that shot square and didn’t rush him, and that he’d hold the cup for twenty-four hours. Mitch thanked him warmly, shook hands and left. He didn’t go back to the hotel, naturally, The redhead wouldn’t THE CELLINI CHALICE tPINLLINI CH be there; he had no funds to pay his bill. He entered a pawnshop, emerged minus his topcoat and wristwatch and caught a cab ,to the airport. A little more than an hour later he got out of another cab on Los Angeles’ Spring Street, and started up the steps to his wife’s apartment. It was above a store building in a rundown neighborhood. Bette made good dough as a burlesque strip-teaser but she was always a tight gal with a dollar, and mar- riage to Mitch hadn’t loosened her up any. There was a double lock on the door. Two locks, instead of the customary one, and both of them were new. He went to work on them, picked them almost as read- ily as he had picked all the others and went inside. It was only a few minutes after ten. Bette wouldn’t be home before midnight. Mitch got busy again, searching every nook and cranny of the apartment, searching all the old hiding places and every pos- sible new one. He wound up empty-handed. There wasn’t a dollar in cash in the joint. There wasn’t a thing that was hockable for more than a few bucks. Mitch put back everything as he had found it. He left, not at all dejected, already planning his . more subtle return. Meanwhile, there was another prospect on his list, a proven sucker who, un- 65 GOmMIGboOoks:co