Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

TO-MORROW IS ANOTHER DAY thought they sprang from his own subconscious.” “He still does. Damn. I can’t get him to shift from this pub. There’s at least one potential sensitive in the crowd—name, Peter Mac- Donough; address, 13, Kirby Road, N.15—whom I'd ad- vise you to contact before the opposition opens him up— and I can’t go chucking stray commands at Michel with him around. As I was saying: He still thinks they’re rooted in his own mind. He’s begin- ning to fear for his sanity.” “They sure have it in for that poor boy,” acknowledged. Marcia. “Naturally,” Clairmont stated, dryly. “Guiscard, Montague’s finished his sec- ond show for the evening. I spotted he was using his mind-reading act incidentally to try to trace new sensitives for the opposition.” “Neat,” admitted Guiscard. “Go on.” “I’m afraid he may have spotted my baffle, though the moment I spotted his game I 35 dropped it on the double. If he didn’t, he has a sweet picture of me as an undevel- oped sensitive, wide open to recruitment. Oh—oh boy, what a stroke of luck!” “Explain.” ““Montague’s dropping with fatigue. He just fainted— right under a cyclist. Diag- nosis—broken leg and con- cussion. When the doctors see his physical condition, theyll immobilise him, and I can pick at an unconscious mind without fear of detec- tion. This is less risky than probing in his sleep.” “‘Immobilise him?’ queried Marcia. “‘Not for long, surely ? You said he was first-order sensitive——” “But he has galloping consumption——”’ “Sorry,” said Marcia, amusedly. “I was forgetting he wasn’t an immortal.” “Michel’s moving,” re- ported the latter’s shadow. “T think he’s going home.” Michel still felt uneasy as he left the pub and began to comiclbooks.cornp