Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

TO-MORROW IS ANOTHER DAY Street and hailed a passing cab. The driver, a tall sallow man, with two days’ beard, clicked down his flag and said: “‘Where to, chum ?”’ **A good bar,” said Michel, weakly. “I need a drink.” He felt a little better after the alcohol, though not much. He would have sold his soul for a night of trouble-free sleep at any time in the past month, but since he knew no reliable formula for devil- raising he couldn’t make the trade. He had tried drinking himself into oblivion, once; but the alcohol relaxed his will power and the things on the borderline of conscious- ness had slipped over to make his evening a waking night- mare. He dared not sit and drink and brood. He roused himself and had something to eat. He swal- lowed the food without relish, wondering just what uncanny chain of events he had been caught up in. Not for the first ‘time he pondered if it pre- saged the failure of his mind 25 under the strain of no sleep. Afterwards he went in search of something to divert him from his worries. He found a revue theatre which advertised a continuous per- formance, and slipped into ~ one of the vacant seats in the darkened auditorium. Some fifth-rate singer was giving a rendering of the song currently at the top of the hit parade. She finished almost a half tone sharp, which made Michel wince. There was a conjurer next, possessed of remarkable skill in manipulation, and the audience began to take an interest. He was a thin man with fair—almost white—hair cut very short, who wore evening dress with quite in- credible elegance, and had an expression of complete bore- dom. Without interest he multi- plied billiard balls from one to ten, tossed all ten into the air and left them there, apparently, for they certainly didn’t come down again. He turned objects into other things and back, comiclooks.conn