Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

GRANT your business, I will see that Mr. Lazarus is informed.” He waited me out. “I’m working on a new theory of telepathy,” I lied. “I need money to continue my research.” “Mr. Lazarus will be glad to help you. All you need do is prepare a synopsis of your theory and send it to this office. I will transmit it to Mr. Lazarus and he will make ° a grant depending on his valuation of your ideas.” I seated myself on a corner of Tracey’s desk and lit a cigarette. “Look, *s iE said: Salt) J want is to get to see your boss. Why the mystery?’ *“Mr. Lazarus sees no one,” he repeated. “Yeah, you said that. Now tell me what he looks like— you must have seen him.” Tracey shook his head. “T have never met Mr. Lazarus. All my business with him is done by mail.” I looked close at him. He wasn’t lying. IN AID “Okay,” I said, “Tl write— maybe.” I dropped my private card on his desk and walked out, thinking Lazarus wouldn’t want to pass up a chance to hand out dough. I was playing hard to get. I checked with Charlie Miller and Dewer, the only two on Wilson’s list who lived in New York. I learnt nothing. I tapped Tracey’s phone, but the only calls he got were from people needing money. Tracey never once called Lazarus. I checked on Tracey, too. He had a comfortable house and a bank account; he moved from his house to the office and back again. I tired of watching him. Wilson called again and paid another fifty bucks to keep the investigation open. I had one divorce case and Tracey wrote reminding me to send in a synopsis of my theory; Mr. Lazarus would be encouraging, he hinted. It seemed the only thing to do was tamper with the 959 comiclbooks.com