Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

70 - ROBERT SHECKLEY = concealed button throws the gun into your hand, cocked, safety Z catch off. Why not drop into your nearest Protec-Store? Why not be safe?’ ‘That’s fine,” Morger said. “ That’s a — nice, dignified ad.” He thought for a moment, fingering his white os “ Shouldn’t you mention that Protec-Suits come in a variety of styles, single- and double-breasted, deep and shallow flares? ”’ “Right. I forgot.” Frelaine took back the sheet and jotted a note on the edge of it. Then he stood up, smoothing his jacket over his prominent stomach. Frelaine was forty-three, a little overweight, a little bald on top. He was an amiable-looking man with cold eyes. “ Relax,”’ Morger said. “ It'll come in today’s mail.” Frelaine forced himself to smile. He felt like pacing the floor, but instead sat on the edge of the desk. “You’d think it was my first kill,” he said, with a deprecating smile. “ I know how it is,” Morger said. “ Before I hung up my gun, I couldn’t sleep for a month, waiting for a notification. I know.” The two men waited. Just as the silence was becoming unbearable, the door opened. A clerk walked in and deposited the mail on Frelaine’s desk. Frelaine swung round and gathered up the letters. He thumbed through them rapidly and found what he had been waiting for—the long white envelope from ECB, with the official government seal on it. “'That’s it!’ Frelaine said, and broke into a grin. “ That’s the baby! ”’ “Fine.” Morger eyed the envelope with interest, but didn’t ask Frelaine to open it. It would be a breach of etiquette, as well as a violation in the eyes of the law. No one was supposed to know a Victim’s name except his Hunter. ‘‘ Have a good hunt.” ““T expect to,” Frelaine replied confidently. His desk was in order—had been for a week. He picked up his briefcase. “A good kill will do you a world of good,” Morger said, putting his hand lightly on Frelaine’s padded shoulder. “ You’ve been keyed up.” “IT know,” Frelaine grinned again and shook Morger’s hand. “Wish I was still a kid,” Morger said, glancing down at his crippled leg with wryly humorous eyes. “‘ Makes me want to pick up a gun again.” The old man had been quite a Hunter in his day. ‘Ten successful hunts had qualified him for the exclusive Tens Club. comiclbooks.comn