Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

THE PHOENIX TREATMENT of his worries. He possessed it in superabundance. But the provision of funds for his immediate needs was a dif- ferent problem. Obviously, if his wife failed to recognise him, his secretary would not. Nor his bank manager. Doubtless they would, ultimately; but the process of identification would take time, and he had none to spare. Besides, at present, he wished to remain incognito. Which was all very well, but did not alter the fact that he was in urgent need of ready money. He had to have it. Plenty of it. Before noon tomorrow... He scowled in dire per- plexity. Then a chuckle es- caped him, and he moved stealthily into the shrubbery lining the drive. He stared up at the house, at the lighted window of Sita’s bed- room. He sighed impatiently, hoping she would soon finish her letter, put out the light and go to bed. He hoped, too, that she would sleep soundly, and that the pearl-handled gun which he had bought her beforecommencing his “‘global business trip’? would remain untouched until morning. Be- 57 cause he was going to burgle his own safe. There was nothing to it really, although he had to wait a long time for Sita’s bed- room light to vanish. He entered by the front door, went noiselessly to his study, and in a few moments the wall safe was open and he was stuffing his pockets with money. He also took a small bag containing uncut dia- monds. Altogether, enough to keep Sita and himself in luxury for a number of years. He was closing the safe door in high good humour when the click of an opening door behind him wiped out . his complacency, replacing it with frigid fear. Motionless, he considered the situation, licking his lips, blinking, thinking frantically. It could only be Sita—there was no one else in the house. Whatever happened, she must not discover his identity, and this left him with no alterna- tive to making a bolt for the French windows. He translated thought into immediate action. He dashed. across the room, wrestled with the curtains, snatched the door open. There was a scream, a crack, a burning in his shoulder; then he was comicloooks.com