Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION The Superintendent growled: ‘‘Nothing, except he vanished just like the other two. Any suspicious cars around at the time ?”’ “Well, sir, it was visiting hour. There were quite a few 2a.” “And you didn’t miss him until supper ?”’ “‘That’s right, sir. We noti- fied the police. They’re check- ing the usual leads. Relatives, former employer, friends...” “‘Let’s hope they find Todd before the papers get it.”’ ‘Take off your coat, tie clip and suspenders. Fill in this form. Then go into the next room, please,” the nurse in the chest x-ray trailer said. The bored voice read from his card: “‘Martin. Dr. Ernest. Physics Department.”’ ““Number four-two-six. In- hale, please.’ The technician adjusted a sliding screen. Guillotine, Dr. Martin thought. To cut off my career if the x-ray’s positive. And the red spots on the cheeks of his lean, pale face grew a little darker. “Hold your breath now until I tell you.’ The auto- matic timer clicked, whirred for three seconds, clicked off. “Thank you. You'll be 162 notified through the mail. Next!”’ “There is a suspicious one, Hilde. Haven’t seen this word- ing before, I don’t think.”’ The man pointed to an ad in the personal column and Hilde read: DOES WORRY INTERFERE with your work? If worry ham- pers your every step, bla, bla, bla. ““Write to that box number, Hilde, on plain paper. Give your own address. Make it sound as if you had real troubles. We'll see what they have to peddle and who they are. Same old bunch, prob- ably. With a new pitch. If it so much as smells of fraud they'll get a surprise.” “Yes, sir,’ said Hilde, fus- sing with her notebook. ““Next week you'll begin looking over the ads yourself. There’s a trick to spot them, but you’ll catch on quick. And don’t forget—if they don’t ask you to write they aren’t using the mails; we aren’t interested. By the way, how’d the boss find you?” “Why, I wrote to a box number.” The man laughed. ‘“‘That’s good. Real good!” comichooks.coml_