Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 52 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

A DATE WITH THE PAST feeling that they were both play-acting left me, and a chill wind of reality caught at my throat. The woman had just drawn a small gun of some sort from her side pocket, and was aiming it straight at Del Marno. The sunlight glinted dazzlingly off its queerly bul- bous barrel. Her voice not quite steady, she said: ““Do not touch me; move not one step nearer.” Del Marno’s mouth moved contemptuously: “First a hypno-drug, and now a para- lyser gun—indeed a loving little wife, Barba. But your gun is useless. When I was young and reckless, before I met you, I took anti-paralyser treatment; now, my nervous system is immune. Youcannot harm me.”’ I felt her grip tighten on my arm. ““That I never knew,” she said. ““But it matters not. This gun is not a para Roger, stop! No!” As Del Marno lunged for- ward, her voice rose to a shriek, and I saw her hand tighten convulsively round the gun. The big man’s body suddenly stiffened, and he drew himself up to an incredible height; then, hands clutching at air, he fell slowly and horribly to the ground, 107 like a toy soldier being pushed over. He lay, face down, un- moving, and in the shocked silence that followed I knew quite certainly that he was dead. The woman stood still for a moment, looking down with eyes as wide as saucers—all hysteria completely blown away. Then she collapsed by Del Marno’s side and tried frantically to pull him over on his back. Her voice broke, pleaded: “Roger! I didn’t mean You must be alive! You must be!” I knelt down beside her and fumbled for the heart. The body felt curiously stiff, and there was no reaction what- ever to my searching hand. I applied the polished whisky- flask to his mouth; there was not a trace of misting on its smooth, bright surface. I picked up the gun which Barba, unheeding, had dropped on the grass. Its muzzle was covered by a fine metal grating, and there were two little inset buttons on its side instead of the conventional trigger. I said: “What is this thing? How can it kill a man stone dead i ““Dead——!”” Her voice al- most wailed the word out. Then she stiffened, and conmcloooks.com