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Alfred Hitchcock's Behind the Death Ball

US paperback

Alfred Hitchcock's Behind the Death Ball

Tagline

  • That master hustler of horror chalks up a new high in terror.

Contents

  1. Introduction by Alfred Hitchcock (ghost written)
  2. Perfect Shot by Lawrence Treat
  3. The Amateur Philologist by August Derleth
  4. The Glint by Arthur Porges
  5. The Seventh Man by Helen Nielsen
  6. Voodoo Doll by Henry Slesar
  7. A Friendly Exorcise by Talmage Powell
  8. Many Women Too Many by C.B. Gilford
  9. Till Death by Fletcher Flora
  10. The Hitchhikers by Bruce Hunsberger
  11. Store Cop by Ed Lacy
  12. Doom Signal by John Lutz
  13. See What's in the Bag by Hal Ellson
  14. Fat Jow and the Walking Woman by Robert Alan Blair
  15. The Ghost and Mr. Grebner by Syd Hoff

Inner Page

SHOCK THERAPY

Alfred Hitchcock says that the Freudians, the Jungians, the Reichians, and all the others should move over and make room for the master—namely himself. For Hitch has developed his own marvelous methods of freeing you from irrational fears and repressed emotions.

After the Hitchcock treatment, we guarantee that all your fears will be real ones. You won't even be troubled by bad dreams—you just won't go to sleep at all. And you don't need to lie down on the couch—any old coffin will do.

So give yourself the ultimate in terror treatment with fourteen unforgettable masterpieces of shattering suspense in—

BEHIND THE DEATH BALL

Introduction

My neighbor, Dr. Joab, telephoned me several months ago to ask me to drop in for tea and, incidentally, to learn about an experiment he intended to conduct, the purpose of which was to determine for once and all the validity of the theory of evolution.

Over oolong, he advised me that he had developed a method for speeding up the process by which, some claim, man has evolved from the ape. When I expressed mild doubt, he took me into his laboratory. There he showed me a machine that, had he not told me it was an evolution accelerator, I would have guessed to be an outsize pressure cooker.

I asked how it worked.

Joab is not one to burden the layman with scientific jargon. "Set the dial and flip the switch," he responded.

Taking me to the far side of the laboratory, he next showed me a young ape. It appeared to be an intelligent animal. At the moment it was attempting to pick the lock on its cage.

"In a period of less than a month," Dr. Joab told me, "I will subject this specimen to billions of years of evolutional development. When the job is done, he will be either a man—a bona fide human being—or he will remain an ape."

I pointed out that, according to statistics, there is already an excess of human beings and suggested that if he really wanted to create something worthwhile he try for an oak tree that was resistant to inch worms. But the good doctor had his heart set.

A few days later, I was summoned to Dr. Joab's laboratory again. I must admit that I was impressed by what he had so far achieved—possibly because I had expected nothing. The ape had grown consider ably, attaining the height of the average teenager, and was now standing upright.

I asked my neighbor if he felt it wise to continue, reminding him of the experience Dr. Frankenstein had with his monster. Dr. Joab was not in the least deterred.

Another week or so passed. This time I dropped by the lab of my own volition. I was amazed. The ape had lost most of his hair, becoming smooth-skinned. His facial structure had also altered considerably, taking on unmistakably human characteristics. Dr. Joab no longer had him confined to the cage. He had fitted him out in a sort of jump suit and was allowing him the freedom of the premises. Joab advised me that he planned now to teach the ape and/or man to perform simple tasks, such as taking out the garbage, loading the dishwasher, cleaning the lavatory bowls, and so forth.

When the third week had gone by, curiosity took me to the laboratory once more. I was astounded... The ape seemed no longer to exist. What had once been a primitive jungle animal was now a handsome young man. He was dressed in slacks, a colorful sports shirt and loafers.

"Perfection!" I said to Dr. Joab.

"Not quite," he replied. "He still puts the knives and forks in upside down in the dishwasher."

The doctor informed me that he was about to begin instructing his creation in the English language, dining out and social dancing. After that, Joab felt, he would be able to go out into the world and make his own way. I congratulated him, then departed. Since the experiment had proved out, my interest in it waned.

Some six months or so later, however, I was drawn into the affair once again. Dr. Joab telephoned me, excited, and asked me to join him at tea and witness the topping-off of his scientific project.

"Tonight," he told me, when I reached his quarters, "he's bringing home his intended bride. It's the final and conclusive proof. A woman could never be fooled. If he were still an ape, she would know."

"Have you met the lady?" I asked.

"Oh, no," the doctor replied. "He's completely independent—like a son grown to maturity. He went out into the world alone and dined and danced and wooed and won. Tonight he's bringing her home to meet me/Tomorrow we'll arrange for the ceremony."

"The children should be interesting," I commented.

Shortly thereafter, Joab's experiment appeared. He had indeed matured. He had the confident, casual manner of a young man of the world.

"Pop, she's outside," he said to Joab. "Shall I bring her in?"

"Do! Please do!" Joab responded, glowing.

The young man stepped from the room, then, a moment later, returned. He was carrying in his arms the loveliest stock of bananas it has ever been my pleasure to meet.

Let there be no confusion, though, about the tales which follow. They are exactly what you have come to expect from these collections—the best in horror and suspense.

Back Cover

MR. HITCHCOCK NEEDS YOUR HELP

Any artist is only as good as his audience, and that master orchestrator of terror, Alfred Hitchcock, is no exception. What good is his fearful brand of fiendish tun if he has no nerves to twist, no teeth to set chattering, no vocal chords to strum into high notes of horrified hysteria? That's where you come in, dear reader. Just put yourself in Hitch's skillful hands, and he'll give you a screaming good time with personally selected stories and novelettes...

Notes

Links

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