Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

GRANT IN AID Sharp teeth nuzzled my throat and a fierce growling did something scary to the pit of my stomach. The beam of a flashlight hit me between the eyes. | ‘Let him go, Buster,” said a familiar voice. A hundredweight of mastiff rose up and I started to breathe again. ‘Friendly sort of animal,” I said in my best conversa- tional manner. *“He won’t hurt you unless I tell him to,”’ said the hard- faced guard I had met earlier. “Just walk ahead of me.” He held a .45 automatic in his hand. Buster followed at my heels. We reached the lodge by the main gate and a man waited for me. He was slim, neatly dressed, a man of superior intelligence to my guard. ““Mr. Lazarus?” I asked hopefully. He shook his head. Fingers worked deftly through my pockets and discovered my licence. 61 “Who are you working for, Mr. Stone?” ““My grandmother,” I said. “*She’s a hundred and nine and has to support her widowed father.” The slim man was not amused. He sighed, like a summer breeze over water. *“You’re outside your terri- tory,” he pointed out, “and Mr. Lazarus is generous with his donations to the police orphans’ fund.” He didn’t need to read me the score. The county cops wouldn’t like me. “Don’t come back,” he said. My guard walked me out- side, unlocked the gate and turned me loose. Buster took a last hungry look as I walked away. Two days later, I received a cheque for ten thousand dollars. I tore it up and mailed the pieces back to Tracey, then I went to see Wilson. He listened to my report with a troubled air. “TI don’t like it,’ he said. “If we really discover a set comiclooks.corn