Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

[ take a morbid pleasure in introducing to you a hus- tler’s hustler, one of the fastest of the fast boys. Meet Mitch Allison, a rollicking, and dangerous, rogue—a man who can drop his best Nes into a cesspool and walk away laughing. A Novelette by Jim Thompson Ht owas Late arrerNoon when Mitch Allison reached the last shabby house in a shabby block of houses, and he was cursing him- self for eighteen kinds of a sap. He hadn’t made a nickle all day. He hadn’t:-made bean money all week. Well, if this was the best Doc Krug could do for a hustling man, he, Doc Krug, could shove it. Doc was supposed to be a sharpie. Supposedly, he could always put a fast boy next to a good thing. But all he’d put Mitch next to was be- ing broke. Mitch knocked on the door of the house. He waited a second, then pounded, adding an angry kick for good measure. The door opened suddenly, and a redhead glared out at him. She was young, built like a brick henhouse in 52 —_ ae the Cellini Chalice windy country. Judging by the nightgown beneath her _halt- opened robe, she had. been asleep. “Beat it!” she snapped. “What- _-ever you're selling, I don’t want any.” | . “Mitch smiled apologetically, flashing one of Doc Krug’s busi- ness cards. The card identified him as an associate with Krug & Co., San Diego’s largest buyer of pre- cious metals and old jewelry. “T’m not selling a thing, lady. I’m here to—” “Yeah, yeah, I know.” The girl cut him off impatiently. “I’ve heard the spiel before. What would I have that was worth any dough?” . Mitch’s smile vanished. He was about to say that she had _ plenty that was. worth dough, and that she was doubtless selling it regu- ALFRED HITCHCOCK'S MYSTERY MAGAZINE COPNICLOOOKS (F@)