Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 46 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

SAVIOUR his home Level first, would find themselves severely handi- capped in their search for him. And if he could get hold of a change of clothes from some- where he stood an even better chance of reaching the old man before his pursuers reached him. The old man. The mental image of the strange Mr. Whittam was wavering and indistinct in Patrick’s mind, no longer vivid and clearly defined as it had been in that cataclysmic instant of remem- bering when the entire weird sequence had burst upwards like a fountain, like a sudden, roaring geyser of memory thrusting through the bedrock strata of his unconscious. Perhaps the old man had died or gone on holiday or moved to some other address! The possibilities sent waves of fear through him as he con- sidered them. Before, while escaping from the Psycho- centre, he had thought simply of flight and of the old man’s house as the refuge, the sanctuary to which he must flee. But now he could not help but think of the in- numerable things that might go wrong, of the vast odds against him ever being able to really escape. Afier all, reasoned the logi- 47. cal and pessimistic part of Patrick Vane’s mind, even if he reached this man who called himself Whittam, even if he got there safely and without the security men pounding along behind—well, what could one old man do for him? What could anyone do for him? He pushed mental fingers against these thoughts of defeat and the hopelessness of things and, finding that they were not immobile, pushed harder and dispersed them— or dispersed, perhaps, all but their shadows and their secret, lingering echoes. There was, he told himself, no sense in dwelling on the multitude of unpleasant things that might happen to him. And as for the old man—well, if he got there in safety and found the man at home, then at least he would be able to tell him about his problem and ask his advice. After all, he couldn’t refuse to give it, surely, having been the one to offer it in the first place. He was not so unaware of his surroundings as to miss noticing the Mole Corps offi- cer walking towards him. He gave a brisk salute, which the man returned mechanically. Directly ahead of him, separated from him by one conmcloooks.comn