Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION that each of them had a re- markable family resemblance. “Your father was one of them.” Michel’s face went slowly white. He stared at Harrop for any sign of suspicion. Eventually he said: ““You’re —certain ?”’ “Oh yes. Quite certain,” Harrop assured him, extin- guishing his cigarette. “‘We had to search your family records very thoroughly. We thought we’d come to a dead end at first, because no one had kept track of your family at all during the bankruptcies and winding up of the firms which successively handled the business. In particular, in 1901 a Mrs. Clarissa Michel died in childbirth, and her husband, who was very much in love with her, threw him- self off Hammersmith Bridge six weeks later. He was Arthur Michel, senior sur- viving member of the family. Well, that, we thought, must be that. Until someone was alert enough to enquire— what became of the child? *“We traced her as far as the people who adopted her—the family of a business associate of her father’s. In 1922 she was living by herself, quite ignorant of her origin, not knowing herself to be a Michel. Then she met your father—Alexander Michel— and fell head over heels in love with him. Is anything wrong ?”’ Dryly, Michel said: “If I'd known that, I would have hated the cousin who brought me up even more than I did. I’ve just awoken to the mean- ing of certain veiled remarks she made to me when she was feeling more than usually poisonous. Let it pass.” Harrop regarded him seriously. ““How about lunch- ing with me at a good restaur- ant—to celebrate your luck?” he suggested. Michel smiled a little weakly. “T’d like to very much,” he said, gratefully. “In the or- dinary way I’d not take what you told me hard at all, but I’m not in very good shape lately. I have nightmares.” 18 comicloooks.conn