Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee ee a oe . AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION reputation! Unconsciously, he caressed the moneybelt beneath his shirt. She could do her act when the money ran out, he thought. She’d knock ’em dead on Venus with her dance. Seventh veil, indeed! The servant filled his glass again. How much fun to find out if he’d ever tire of Dolarita! He looked up to see Aunt Phil was smiling bravely. Then they began to come to him, each one alone, to shake his hand and say goodbye. “God speed!” said Dr. Bratton. She had such pretty legs! ““Guts’'” said Hansotte, “‘real guts!’ and damned near broke his wrist. Very soft skin, with a fire that ate you up. *“Give’em hell!’’ said Mabel, and chucked him where it hurt. Oh Dolarita! Then Meg standing there with tears, the smile all gone. Dull, myopic hag, he thought. “Robertshaw .. .” Was all she said, and touched his fingers. Robertshaw pulled - aside the curtains and entered the small back room, listening to the tense, expectant breathing of friends he’d left behind. Impatiently, he watched the door across the room, oc- casionally glancing to the nearby shuttered window of the spectators’ chamber. But when the window opened, Marguerite Ophelia Robertshaw was somewhat less than by herself. Beside her stood Gestorben, with check- ered suit and summer hat. Mr. Gestorben had to remove his hat when Meg leaned down to kiss him. | It was then that Robertshaw found pause for wonder—but not for long. When the big grey door across the room had opened, it was not—needless to say—Gestorben. | The big man held the lead pipe quite loosely in his hand. 120 comiclooks.conrn