Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

“Shaddup!” the Ape said. Mitch shut up. The Ape had tapped him across the Adam’s ap- ple. Duke spoke to Doc, listened and hung up the receiver. He grinned at Mitch. “Naughty, naughty! Oh, you naughty boy!” “Listen!” Mitch begged. “That cup is the McCoy, the real thing! Doc lied to you because—” ~“You’re excited,” the Duke said, solicitously. “You need a drink. Ape, darling, will you get a bottle out of the liquor cabinet?” “The Scotch?” “But, of course! Some of that rare old Scotch that our dear friend sold me at a bargain rate.” The Ape took a full quart from the cabinet. He opened it, and thrust it into Mitch’s nerveless hands. Mitch stared at it horrified, for naturally it did not contain Scotch or any other kind of whis- key. What it contained was radi- ator fluid and tobacco juice. “Drink up!” Duke beamed. “Tll be terribly offended if you don’t.” “Listen, Duke, I—” “You better drink, dear!” Mitch took a sip of the stuff. He gasped, choked and his stomach did flip-flops. “Delicious, isn’t it?” the Duke said. “Have another.” “T c-cuh-can’t!” Mitch strangled. veh Es EO “You don’t like it? Oh, dear! Ape, why do you suppose the darl- THE CELLINI CHALICE THE NI CHCE ing doesn’t like our Scotch?” “He’s just pretendin’,” the Ape said. “He loves it.” “Oh?” “Uh-huh. Kinda bashful, you know. His mama told him he should never take seconds.” “Why, the shy sweet child! Well, if he won’t accept our hos- pitality, we'll simply have to—” Mitch made a wild lunge from his chair. The Ape collared him, and slammed him down inte it again. He put a ham-like hand over the upper part of Mitch’s face. His mouth was forced open, and... It wasn’t as bad as he expected. Rather, they didn’t give him the full treatment he had expected. After a couple of swallows, the Ape kicked him out into the alley, the kick prompting Mitch’s stom- ach to expel the stuff. He picked himself up, neither seriously sick nor injured, and went down the alley to the street. He cleaned up in a restaurant washroom. Then, with three glasses of milk soothing his in- nards, he returned to his wife’s apartment. Light gleamed under the door. He could hear her stirring about inside. Rapping on the door, he called softly, “It’s. Mitch, honey.” There was dead silence for a moment. A very long moment. Then, there was a click followed shortly by another click as she keyed the two locks. 67 (EOMMIC LOC KS (EO)