More Stories My Mother Never Told Me (March 1977)

Alfred Hitchcock Presnts: More Stories My Mother Never Told Me (March 1977), Dell, 0-440-15816-8, $1.25

INTRODUCTION
Unless you began this book at the back and have been reading your way forward, you have doubtless perceived that it is entitled More Stories My Mother Never Told Me. Permit me to observe that this is an absolutely accurate description of the contents. I am prepared to testify in any court of the land that none of these stories was ever recounted to me in any form by my mother.
The reason for this is quite simple. None of them had been written at the time when my mother was telling stories to me.
Still, I do not think that my mother would have told me any of the tales I have gathered here, even if they had been available to her. And I do not recommend that you pass them indiscriminately along to your own younger offspring. They are stories for the developed taste, one that has left behind it the delights of the blunt instrument, the scream in the night, the poison in the decanter of port.
I believe it has become public knowledge that I am addicted to tales that brush the emotions of the reader with a touch of terror, pluck at his sensitivities with a haunting horror, or set his pulse pounding with suspense. I have gone so far as to issue volumes of stories in which I have grouped narratives that seemed to me to distill these emotions in their finest essence.
But in this book I shall not presume to suggest what reactions these stories should call forth from you, the reader. Nor, despite great temptation, will I call your attention to any specific tales. These stories should be approached without forewarning or preconception. Only in that way may their fullest impact be received by sensitive nervous systems.
The one thing that I can promise is that you are in for a full gamut of emotional reactions - barring, of course, the tender sentiments, with which I will have no truck. I have even included a tale or two primarily for entertainment. But do not look upon this as a sign of weakness. Even in these tales there are underlying frissons to give a curious relish to the reading. And there are other stories which I consider well-nigh diabolical. Furthermore-
But someone has said that the best introduction is the shortest introduction.
Onward, then!
ALFRED J. MTCHCOCK
***

CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION Alfred Hitchcock 9
THE WIND Ray Bradbury 11
CONGO Stuart Cloete 21
DIP IN THE POOL Roald Dahl 30
I DO NOT HEAR YOU, SIR Avram Davidson 42
THE ARBUTUS COLLAR Jeremiah Digges 52
THE MAN WHO WAS EVERYWHERE Edward D. Hoch 62
COURTESY OF THE ROAD Mack Morriss 66
REMAINS TO BE SEEN Jack Ritchie 70
THE MAN WHO SOLD ROPE TO THE GNOLES Idris Seabright 80
LOST DOG Henry Slesar 85
SLIME Joseph Payne Brennan 94
HOW LOVE CAME TO PROFESSOR GUILDEA Robert Hichens 120
NATURAL SELECTION Gilbert Thomas 167
SIMONE Joan Vatsek 176
***

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
"The Wind," Ray Bradbury. Reprinted by permission of Har- old Matson Company, Inc. Copyright 1943 by Ray Bradbury. Copyright renewed by the author.
"Congo," Stuart Cloete. Reprinted by permission of Story magazine. Copyright 1943 by Story Magazine, Inc.
'Dip in the Pool," Roald Dahl. Reprinted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., from Someone Like You by Roald Dahl. Copyright 1952 by Roald Dahl.
"I Do Not Hear You, Sir," Avram Davidson. Reprinted by permission of Kirby McCauley, Literary Agent. Copyright 1957 by Mercury Press, Inc.
"The Arbutus Collar," Jeremiah Digges. Reprinted by permission of Story magazine. Copyright 1936 by Story Magazine, Inc.
"The Man Who Was Everywhere," Edward D. Hoch. Reprinted by permission of the author. Originally appeared in Manhunt magazine. Copyright 1957 by Flying Eagle Publications, Inc.
"Courtesy of the Road," Mack Morriss. Reprinted by permission of William Morris Agency, Inc. Originally appeared in Collier's magazine. Copyright 1949 by Crowell-Collier Publishing Company.
"Remains To Be Seen," Jack Ritchie. Reprinted by permission of the author and Larry Stemig, Agent, and the copyright owner. Originally appeared in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine. Copyright 1961 by H.S.D. Publications, Inc.
"The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles," Idris Seabright. Reprinted by permission of McIntosh and Otis, Inc. Originally ap- peared in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. Copyright 1951 by Mercury Press,.Inc.
"Lost Dog," Henry Slesar. Reprinted by permission of Theron Raines, Agent. Originally appeared in Michael Shaynes Mystery Magazine. Copyright 1957 by Henry Slesar.
"Slime," Joseph Payne Brennan. Reprinted by permission
the author and his agents, Scott Meredith Literary Agency, Inc., 845 Third Avenue, New York, New York 10022. Re- printed from Nine Horrors and a.Dream, published by Arkham House. Copyright 1958 by Joseph Payne Brennan.
"How Love Came to Professor Guildea," Robert Hichens. Reprinted from Tongues of Conscience, by Robert Hichens. Reprinted by permission of the owner of the copyright, per A.P. Watt & Son, Hastings House, London, England. Copyright by Robert Hichens.
"Natural Selection," Gilbert Thomas. Reprinted by permission of the author. Originally appeared in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. Copyright 1950 by The American Mercury, Inc. (now Davis Publications, Inc.).
"Simone," Joan Vatsek. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. Originally appeared in Today's Woman. Copyright 1949 by Fawcett Publications, Inc.

Alfred Hitchcock's Rolling Gravestones (Dell 1971)

INTRODUCTION

Although five years have passed since I last visited Philadelphia, I find myself frequently thinking about the city of brotherly love. Constitution Hall, the Liberty Bell and Betsy Ross's little house all hold proud meaning in our lives.

A recent news item about a deranged ornithologist who'd been arrested while attempting to strike the Liberty Bell with a rubber mallet brings Philadelphia to mind at this time. Needless to say, security guards pounced upon him before he could deliver the blow and the culprit was immediately led off to jail.

This unimportant event instantly recalled the time I'd spent there. The memory is vivid. It was a fine autumnal morning. I had just breakfasted at my hotel and I was walking toward a nearby university where I had been invited by the university's president to deliver and address upon the various types of criminals that I have known and studied. At any rate I hadn't walked more than two blocks when I detected that I was being followed by a beautiful young brunette. My first impression was that she was merely going in the same direction where I was heading. This soon proved erroneous for when I deliberately stopped to gaze at a store window she kept her distance and only resumed walking after I had started again.

It amused me at first, then after I had walked about half a mile my curiosity came to the fore and without further ado I made an about face and confronted her. Her frightened face told me that something was definitely wrong and in an attempt to put her at ease I said, "Miss, is there something amiss?" At the time I was certain that this sparkling witticism, would do the trick. Imagine my astonishment, if you win, when her face contorted and she burst into tears.

Momentarily, I was taken aback at this emotional display, but my recovery was quick. "Why are you crying?" I said. "What's the matter?"

Her reply was a series of incomprehensible blubbering sounds, which drew an immediate crowd, including an uncouth type in a plaid, shirt who said to her, "Girlie, is this character bothering you? If he is, just give me the word and I'll flatten him."

Luckily for him, she replied, "I'm quite all right," just as I was about to strike him with a punishing karate chop for his unwelcome intrusion.

After he and the crowd had disbursed I led the distraught young woman into a coffee shop. We sat in a booth and I said, "Now, what's this all about?"

She hesitated. "I'm in terrible trouble. I've been following you trying to get up my nerve."
I waited without comment so she could tell me in her own time.

She spoke in a small voice and it took her ten minutes to tell me what was at the root of her problem. She had been married three weeks ago. While honey-mooning in Mexico she and her husband Richard had been kidnapped by bandits. They had held them both, then she had been released for the purpose of returning to the United States to obtain the ransom money in exchange for her husband's release.

What it all boiled down to was that the bandits had insisted that I act as an intermediary to deliver twenty thousand dollars to them in exchange for her husband's life. Jo Ann added that any attempt, to bring in the police would result in her husband's immediate demise.

It was an opinion with which I concurred. Unfortunately, there were a few unanswered questions about the whole business that stirred uneasy feelings for me.

To begin with I believed that Mexican bandits were something out of the past, and if they did exist, why had they selected me to bring the ransom money instead of merely having Jo Ann bring it to them? I considered the possibility that I might be held captive. I even considered the possibility that her story might be part of a ruse designed to place me in a position where I myself might be kidnapped.

Jo Ann explained it all. The kidnappers had chosen me to bring the ransom money because of my reputation as an expert in the field of crime who would definitely realize that going to the police would jeopardize her husband's life. Jo Ann on the other hand would also realize the situation for what it was, but they were apprehensive that she might unwittingly create problems, whereas if I handled the matter things would proceed smoothly. She dug in her purse and produced an envelope stuffed with bills which she handed to me. I accepted with some doubt and misgivings.

I canceled my lecture at the university and we departed via the next flight to Brownsville, Texas, where it was prearranged that we would cross over into Mexico.
The custom guards who recognized me on both sides of the border waved me right through without even bothering to inspect our luggage.

We followed the kidnappers' instructions. We rented a car and drove southward on a major highway, leaving it for a lonely road after about ten miles. On a desolate stretch of road, I stopped and deposited the envelope containing the money under a large rock marked with a red X. I found a note instructing us to proceed to an abandoned shack about four miles down the road. A second note pinned to the door of the shack advised us to return from whence we had just come. Trickery upon trickery. I drove back at breakneck speed. Approaching the marked rock I found her husband.

Jo Ann and Richard embraced amidst tears and laughter. Then I shook his hand. He explained that he and the kidnappers had actually seen us drop the ransom off. They had sent us off on a wild goose chase to the shack to gain time to make their getaway in a small helicopter. We left.
The only holdup we had occurred at the border. I told Jo Ann and Richard that I had to call the university to inform them that I was returning for my speaking engagement.

And once again the border guards recognized me and waved us through. At the airport for my flight Jo Ann and Richard thanked me profusely and said good-bye.

Unfortunately for them they were arrested before they got to their car. I had called the police and alerted them rather than the university as Jo Ann and Richard believed. The police found a large quantity of diamonds in Richard's money belt.

One of the arresting officers wanted to know how I had known that the kidnapping story was false. I explained that I hadn't fully believed the girl's story and that I had sprinkled nondectable Cavendish powder on the envelope containing the ransom money and a smear of Bilgar's salve on the palm of my right hand. When I shook Richard's hand there was a slight electrical reaction set up by the powder and the salve. I felt a tiny tingle and I knew at once that he had retrieved the ransom envelope hunself. I realized that the kidnapping story was an elaborate hoax neatly designed to conceal another form of skullduggery, which in this case turned out to be diamond smuggling.

The lengths criminals will go to in their efforts to turn a shady buck is amazing, but I can assure you that even greater effort has gone into the discriminating selection of the stories that follow.

Alfred Hitchcock

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

Irving S Cobb, Fishhead, no date given

Camera Obscura, Basil Copper. 1965

A Death in the Family, Miriam Allen deFord, 1961
The Knife, Robert Arthur, 1951
Casablanca, Thomas M Disch, 1967
The Raod to Mictlanteculti, Adobe James, 1965
Guide to Doom, Ellis Peters, 1963
The Estuary, Margaret St. Claire, 1950
Tough Town, William Sambrot, 1957
The Troll, T H White, no date given
Evening at the Black House, Robert Somerlott, 1964
One of the Dead, William Wood, 1964
The Real Thing, Robert Sprecht, 1966
Joureny to Death, Donald E Westlake, 1959
The Master of the Hounds, Algin Burdrys, 1966
The Candidate, Henry Slesar, 1961
It, Theodore Sturgeon, 1940