Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 47 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

THE BRIDGE himself. Mr. Quant had al- ready phoned Mr, Grubbiner, so the men settled down to business at once. An hour later, Mr. Trinter snapped his order book shut. Talk about a bumper order! But there was more to come. Planting his elbows on the counter, Mr. Grubbiner pulled an ear. Cocked an eye. “About delivery——” “Two months. Guaran- teed.” “Settlement ?” “Month after delivery. Ten per cent. discount.” “Tl pay now—and_ take fifteen.”’ Mr. Trinter thought swiftly. He had no authority to vary terms; but he was expected to show initiative. An extra five was too much. He com- promised: “‘Make it twelve and a half.” ““Done!”’ Mr. Grubbiner retired to his office to make out the cheque, and Mr. Trinter put his samples back in the car. As he finished, the big man joined him on the pavement, handing over the cheque. He stared at the mountain top and shook his head. 123 “Look at it. Yet there’s hardly a spot down here.” Mr. Trinter followed his gaze and didn’t like what he saw. He began: “‘Looks pretty grim———”’ ““Mr. Grubbiner!”’ An as- sistant dashed out. “You're wanted on the ’phone!”’ The shopkeeper shook hands and went inside, leaving Mr. Trinter, pothery with heat, mopping his forehead. He glanced at the cheque, put it in his wallet, blinked, took it out again and scrutinised it in astonishment. It was not signed! Frowning, he put the wallet away and went back into the shop, cheque in hand. “Damn, damn, damn!” Facing Mr. Trinter across the office desk, Mr. Grub- biner squirmed as he stared at the cheque lying between them. “Sorry! Error of omis- sion. I do that sort of thing— where money’s concerned.” He paused. Leaned forward tensely. “Ever read Freud?” Mr. Trinter’s eyes widened. | ““Well—yes.”’ “Then I can explain. You won’t think I’m pulling a fast - comiclbooks.comn. - ‘ ; oes 2 ~ ue Se Pee ee SO Ne aa eee a Wo