Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

_ “All right.” Mitch didn’t argue with her. “I only wanted the money for you. I’d just as soon forget it myself.” “I won’t touch a penny of that money! All the times you’ve gypped me—" “IT know. So let’s drop the sub- ject. After all, what’s fifteen hun- dred dollars? You can draw that much salary in eight or ten weeks.” “Well’—Bette bit her lip. “It’s certainly a nice piece of change, Miteh... <” “I understand,” Mitch said, “It’s dishonest. It’s very bad of me to think about clipping poor Mame.” “N-no. I don’t mind your clip- ping other people, Mitch. After all, a man has to do something, and you're very good at it. If you’d just let me handle the dough you made instead of—” “That’s what I was going to do,” said Mitch. “But as long as you're not interested . . .” He seemed prepared, practically determined, to drop the subject. Bette gnawed her lip some more, trying to peer inside her husband’s larcenous mind, seeking for the trap which might be awaiting her. “Let me get one thing straight, honey. How do you know you can turn Mame’s furniture for fif- teen hundred?” “She’s been: offered that much. She’s been considering selling it for that.” “Yes, but that’s THE CELLINI CHALICE legit. How do you know that you can—” Mitch explained. The old-fash- ioned mahogany furniture in Mame’s parlor was well-known to the underworld. It had been ap- praised and listed by the thieves’ market at fifteen hundred. And the dough was ready and waiting for the guy who could get it away from her. | “Just like that?” Bette frowned. “Mame can’t do anything about ity “Like screaming to the cops? A madam yelling copper?” Mitch shrugged. “I guess she could sue me if she wanted to.” Bette giggled. “You say’ the fun- niest things, honey! Now one other thing, the big thing. I draw, the dough out of my bank and — give it to you, but I stick with you all the time. You don’t get out of my sight for a moment. That’s right, isn’t it? I mean, I hate to sound suspicious, but—” | “That’s the pitch,’ Mitch nodded firmly. “I deposit the money in another bank, but you'll be waiting right outside the door. And when I come out, I give you my passbook.” | “Well...” Bette hesitated briefly. “It certainly sounds all right, honey. I have the passbook. I'll have a check for twenty-five hundred made out in the name of Mame Dorset.” Her voice trailed away. She frowned again, but not with sus- picion. She looked at Mitch curi- 69 Gomichbooks.co