Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

she was still drained dry emotion- ally. Weakly, too breathless to pro- test, she allowed -him to help her - out of the tub. He stretched her out on the bed, patted and rubbed her with the towel; talked to her in his smooth, soothing voice. “You have a beautiful figure, Mame. Lovely. I’d never believe you were a day over thirty-five.” “Oh, y-yeah. Sure. You—you really mean it, Mitch?” “That girl deceived me, Mame. You know how deceitful these young girls are.” So Welk 5) “She got me to feeling sorry for her. She wanted to get into the business, she said, so I told her I'd start her off right at the top. I said, ‘Look, sister, this Mame Dorset is class with a capital C. She’s a lady herself, and she'll make one out of you. She’ll—’ ” “And I would have, too, Mitch! I'd have done it if. I had to kick the stuffing out of her. Why, I’ve taken girls in here, really tough bimbos, and inside of three months .. .” Mitch nodded sympathetically, choking back a laugh. Mame was undoubtedly the toughest, tightest- fisted battle-axe in the trade. Once a bim got in Mame’s clutches, she was up the well-known creek. She never got out of debt. She worked for her board and room, and, of course, the exercise. And if she didn’t like it, just let her say so Mame would give her something that she liked even less. Mitch glanced at the clock; it was two straight up. He swung into the beginning of his patter. Mame went for the first part, the groundwork. Smooth operator that he was, it was easy to believe that Mitch had made a connection with a movie studio. Why not, anyway? Why shouldn’t he have talked himself into a spot where he could tap the till? He’d suck- ered everyone else, so why not the movies? “And that’s where you come in Mame. That’s how I’m going to put you on the gravy-train special. You see, they’re doing this story about a parlor house, an old- fashioned one, you know, and...” He gave her the rest of it. Mame stared at him. She didn’t look like she was going to sock him, or even like she wanted to. She just seemed kind of weary, and a little sad. “Aaah, Mitch, why do you do it? Why did you have to do it?” “Do what?” “You just get through hitting me with one swiftie. Then, just when I’m pulling out of it, startin’ to like you again, you bang me with another one. Dammit to hell, I don’t know why I—” “Look,” said Mitch. “Fifteen hundred is a good price for that - junk. I’m giving you twenty-five. You call that pouring you a quick one? Now tell me.” 72 ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE COPMNICLOOO|KSs(EO