Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

IN TIME OF SORROW **A small party,” Robert- shaw said, giving the Mori- bundus man a dirty look for no real reason. “Just the most intimate friends, and members of our immediate families.” He yawned, rubbed his leg and thought of Dolarita. It would take some money. “Mr. Muerto is handling the details,” he said, “but I suppose you really are routine.” Mr. Gestorben pulled two transparent lips across his teeth and almost smiled. ““Yes, of course,” he said. “As Mr. Muerto’s assistant, [ want to make these three days the happiest of your life.” “Then don’t be facetious— please!’ said Robertshaw, with a grimace, remembering that Muerto probably hadn’t even discussed the matter with this man. What the hell, he thought. “I’ve made a great decision,” he said, “‘and I’m happier for it.”’ “That’s the spirit!” Mr. Gestorben said, without en- thusiasm. Like a twitch, the ~ little man showed his teeth, in what Robertshaw again presumed to be a smile. “Far too little laughter these days,” Gestorben said, with an air of reminiscence. “They’ve lost the flavour of the thing.”” He 115 rubbed his chin. ‘“‘Why— people throw an Auld Lang Syne like convicts at the guillotine.” He jumped up and began to pace the room. He laughed with heartiness, but also, Robertshaw thought, with the acrid taste of mockery. “How about Halfway House,”’ Gestorben said, “‘or what’s for Kickoff House, for a ribald touch ?” He chuckled merrily and sat down again. “It’s an adven- ture, you know, a departure anda timeforcelebration——”’ He plunked his _ briefcase. “You pick the wines, my boy. * It’s no time for sorrow!” Robertshaw grinned, re- membering Moribundus Brothers’ motto. He watched Gestorben push aside the curtains and admire his full- blown roses and wide expanse of garden. He listened half- heartedly to the monotonous drone of the little man’s voice. Robertshaw. Dolarita had liked that name. What is more, Dolarita had liked him. ‘He leaned back in lazy reverie, sleepily watching Meg show Gestorben to the door. They talked in muted whispers there. Dear old Meg! Prob- ably asking Gestorben to have the Dispatcher hit him good and hard, to ease the pain. ~ - Ccomcoooks.comn