Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

had learned the futility of strug- gling with him, if she had learned nothing else. Mitch bound her wrists and ankles, stripped tape across her mouth and stood up. She rolled over. Tear-filled eyes glared at him as he stripped the money from her purse. He looked down at her with a kind of smile- - frown, irritated but also apologetic. “Now, what could you expect, Bette? Honest to God, what else could you expect?” Bette made no answer, naturally. She closed her eyes, and two great tears squeezed beneath the lids, coursed slowly down her cheeks. Mitch bit his lip. He turned abruptly, and headed for the door. He opened it, took one last look at her as he stood on the thresh- old. What the hell? he thought. She’d be all right. She wasn’t hurt any; she had a good job; she could work herself free in an hour. She was okay, and he was okay. And yet, somehow, he felt sort of bad. : “Baby .. .” He spoke awkward- ly, hoarsely. “I guess it’s pretty hard to believe, but I do love you. I really do love you, honey.” “And I,” said a voice behind him, “I love you, too, dear.” Mitch jumped, whirled. Duke English beamed at him. Duke was small but the gun with the si- lencer on it was awful big. “A little game, eh?” He nodded toward the door, smirking. “Can I play? Pll let you be It!” “Now, look, Duke,” Mitch said hastily. “You paid me off for that whiskey deal. We're all square now.” “Why, lover,” Duke pouted. “I’m not twitted with you; truly I’m not. I—But hadn’t you better close that door? I’m afraid it’s making a draft on the little woman.” Mitch closed it slowly, giving . his mind time to catch up with the situation. Duke was calling it quits-on the whiskey swindle. It must be, then, that he had changed his mind about bankrolling the chalice deal. In that case . He turned around, faced Duke again, laughing inwardly, out- wardly sober and worried. “Can you make it fast, Duke? I’ve got a lot of hustling to do if I’m going ‘to close on that chalice.” “You’re still after it, then?” Duke said. “You're still sure it’s a sweet item.” “Ten thousand sweet items. A ten-G gross.” “And you couldn’t promote the little woman? You haven’t raised any of the necessary elsewhere?” “Well,” Mitch hesitated cautious- ly, “I have and I haven’t. I’ve kind of made a start, you know, and, ° uh—” | Duke studied him. He beamed, and patted Mitch’s cheek. “Well, your troubles are over, dear boy. I shall be your partner, and pro- vide the cash.” “Swell,” Mitch said, “that’s swell, Duke. Now, I can get a train for 74 ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE Commicoooks.Cc©