Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

DR. BLAISE by his eyes—the pale grey abstract eyes of genius. His Russian-born wife, Varya, was fifteen years younger. A dark beautiful woman, restless, im- pulsive, worldly. They were an ill-assorted pair, but Dr. Blaise had loved his wife as much as any man could until she placed upon him the shameful horns of cuckoldom. Paul Stock, the man respon- sible, was some ten years younger than Dr. Blaise. As a youth of twenty he had made a name for himself as a “Battle of Britain’ fighter- pilot, and at the age of twenty- five had reached the relatively exalted rank of Group Captain. After the war he continued to fly as a test pilot and soon began to “hit the headlines” as a breaker of sound barriers andestablisheroflong-distance speed records. During one such flight he made a forced landing in a remote part of the Amazon country. For some time nothing was heard of him and he was presumed dead. Eventually, however, 131 accompanied by a flurry of banner headlines, he showed up again and hinted mys- teriously at strange adventures with outlandish native tribes. As a token of this exploit he revealed a peculiar tattoo mark on his right forearm—a red circle with an arrow protrud- ing through it. This meaning- less symbol became a familiar sight in country clubs and the more exclusive types of hotel bar. Stock was a large, physic- ally strong man, handsome in a heavily masculine way, and with his fame and the air of mystery with which he liked to surround himself, un- doubtedly attractive to cer- tain types of women. He had that sort of keen in- telligence which, paradoxic- ally, allied to a limited imagination, makes it possible for a man to become an ace flyer. It no more occurred to him that it was dangerous to. meddle with people’s emo- tions than to fly jet aircraft at supersonic speeds. At the very beginning of their clan- comicloooks.com