Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

‘Turner, but since you haven't, Pil— “T really don’t, Mr. Allison. Hon- est, I don’t.” Her tear-dimmed eyes strayed to the shelf. “Except may- be that old goblet. But I doubt that’d be any good to you.” “T’m afraid not,” Mitch said - doubtfully. “Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to look at it.” She handed it to him. Mitch ex- amined it, his lips pursed depre- catingly to conceal his excitement. Its finish was dull, greenish with age. Each of the four grime-ob- scured handles was formed in the. shape of a different figure, a mer- maid, a knight and so on. The un- der-rim was a metallic circle of lace —filigree—as exquisite as it was intricate. ! “Kind of cute, isn’t it?” the girl said. “I was trying to remember where I got the thing.” “Yes,” Mitch murmured. kind of cute.” | He hefted it casually, deciding that it was undoubtedly gold. Of course, lead or some other base metal would weigh heavily, too. But it seemed unlikely that any metal but gold would have re- ceived so much careful workman- ship. It just wasn’t done, Krug had ex- plained to him. Diamonds -were not mounted in tin. Expert crafts- men did not spend their valuable time on the intrinsically cheap. He looked up suddenly. There was a peculiar expression on the “Tt. 1s THE CELLINI CHALICE girl’s face, something that seemed strangely close to amusement. It disappeared immediately, so swiftly that he was not sure he had seen it. He decided that he hadn’t, that it was only his guilty imagination, and the tension drained out of his body. “Well,” she said. “Is it worth any- — thing, Mr. Allison?” “Well,” Mitch said. “It’s. not completely worthless.” a SCG. “There’s a little silver in it. Just plate, you know, but it is worth something.” TX ESE “Well,” Mitch squirmed inward- ly. Was she wise? Was she just leading him on, building up to a horse-laugh? “Well, I have to make a little profit. Not much,. only fifty cents or so, or maybe a dollar.” “Ve s?” “I can offer you two dollars doe = it,” Mitch said. The girl choked, and burst into laughter. “ Mitch’s eyes flashed venomously. He got a firm grip on the cup, and pushed himself up from the chair. One of his hands balled into a fist. fee “Please,” Peggy Turner’ gasped. “Please forgive me, but—” “Sure,” said Mitch grimly. “Sure, I'll forgive you.” “You poor innocent, you! You poor helpless thing! Of course I won’t sell you that cup!” “Of course you won't,” Mitch 55 COMIC DOOKS.a(6O