The cop looked shocked. "You're kiddin'," he murmured.
"It's our fiftieth anniversary," Toffee lied smoothly. "And right here,
on this very spot, is where we first met. We thought it would be nice
if we came back tonight." She reached out and patted Marc's hand with
a pretty show of sentiment. "And it was, too, wasn't it, lover?" she
asked.
"You two met in an alley?" the cop said, scandalized.
"Of course not," Marc put in quickly. "This was a park here in those
days. Now, would you mind leaving us alone?"
"You'd better not stay here," the cop said. "These people we're looking
for are still at large and they're clean outa their heads. You'd better
go on home."
* * * * *
Marc and Toffee, accompanied by the cops, proceeded to the sidewalk,
helping each other along in their sudden senility. They tottered up
to the police car that was parked in front of the library and peered
interestedly inside. Nearsightedly, they made out Agatha and Chadwick,
sitting in the inner dimness, handcuffed to the door handles.
"What vile looking people!" Toffee exclaimed elegantly. "How vulgar. I
abhor vulgarity, don't you, lover?"
"Indeed," Marc said primly. "Indeed I do, sweetheart."
Agatha's scowling countenance instantly appeared at the window. The
woman opened her mouth to say something, then, at the sight of the aged
couple, changed her mind. A suspicion of something too fantastic to
believe flickered briefly in her eyes, then disappeared in a flood of
doubt.
"Couldn't be," she murmured, sinking back into the dark reaches of the
car. "But oh! how I wish it was!"
"What a disagreeable looking creature!" Toffee said. She turned
pleasantly to the policemen who were standing proudly at her side. "See
that they get everything that's coming to them, won't you, boys?"
"Yes, mam," the cops chorused. "We sure will."
Agatha's face reappeared in the window. "Say...!" she started hotly.
"Come, lover," Toffee said, turning to Marc. "Don't you think we should
look for more refined company?"
As they started down the sidewalk, Toffee turned back and waved
daintily to the two policemen.
"Goodnight, gentlemen!" she called.
"Gee," one of the cops said. "What a sweet old dame. It's sure a shame
they got the wrong street."
"What do you mean?" the other cop asked.
"That alley they were in," the first cop said. "There wasn't no park
there in the old days. There wasn't nothin' but a pickle factory. My
old man used to work there." He sighed. "I didn't want to tell 'em ...
might of spoiled their evening, you know."
* * * * *
For the enfeebled couple it was a long, tortuous climb to the fourth
floor and to Marc's office. When they finally made it, they both
collapsed into chairs and regarded each other bleakly.
"This is worse than being children," Toffee wheezed. "I could die."
"You may," Marc said morosely. "We've got one foot in the grave
already. Anyway," he went on, "Agatha and Chadwick are taken care of."
"It hardly seems worth it," Toffee said, "when things turn out this
way. No matter what punishment they get, it'll never be as bad as
what's happened to us."
They both sat up as the door to the outer office whined open and
slammed to. Footsteps rattled through the silence, and then the door to
Marc's office edged open to make way for a small, ferret-like face.
"There he is," Toffee said. "The cause of it all. If I had the strength
I'd strangle the little devil with my own two hands."
Mr. Culpepper looked at them with interest. "I was afraid this would
happen," he said brightly. "I tried to warn you not to drink any more
liquor, but you wouldn't listen. Now your chemical action has been
reversed. If you'd only waited twenty-four hours you'd have been all
right." He shoved the door open and stepped inside. "My!" he murmured,
patting dust from his clothes. "I certainly had to run to get away from
those cops. Why didn't you follow me?"
"We didn't have to," Toffee replied. "Thanks to you, there isn't a soul
in the world who would recognize us."
"Yes, yes," Mr. Culpepper said, smiling. "We'll fix that up right away.
I have it all worked out. If you take the original dose of two pills
you should return to what you were before you grew old. And there
shouldn't be any permanent after-effects."
"No!" Marc said. With a palsied hand he boosted his wasted frame out of
the chair. "No more of those pills. Heaven only knows what they might
do next."
"It could hardly be worse than what they've already done," Toffee said.
"And besides, I won't stay this way for the rest of my life ... what
little there is left of it. You'll take those pills if I have to fire
them down your throat with a gun."
There were several heated exchanges before Marc finally gave in.
"Oh, all right," he said at last. "At this point I really don't care
what happens anyway."
"The reaction will be faster this time," Mr. Culpepper said. "But don't
be alarmed. Everything will be all right." He plucked two pills from
the littered desk and handed them to Marc.
Marc frowned at the pellets for a long time. Then, saying, "Here goes
everything," he popped them into his mouth. He turned to Toffee. "If we
wind up in our infancy again, I'll...."
Suddenly he stopped; already Toffee's image was blurring before him.
The blackness was closing in fast this time. The room seemed to whirl.
Round and round it went, then it stopped with a jerk. But Marc didn't.
He went sailing off into space ... into unbroken blackness....
* * * * *
Toffee gently removed her lips from Marc's and gazed at the quiet
valley through half-closed lids. Folding her hands beneath her head,
she lay back on the mossy grass. They were resting on the topmost point
of the sloping knoll.
"You know," Toffee mused. "I'm actually a little glad to be back here
this time. That business with the pills was rather fatiguing; we kept
being such unattractive things. Oh, it was lovely being with you again,
but here, in the valley of your subconscious, I can at least count on
being what I am."
"I wonder," Marc said, "what age I'll be when I get back."
"Oh, you'll be back to normal, I'm sure," Toffee said. "When you stop
to think about it, it should work out just as Mr. Culpepper said."
"Then I'll probably be dragged off by the cops the minute I show my
face."
"Oh, I don't think so. No one really ever got a very good look at you.
After the cops showed up, we were in the shadows most of the time and
moving too fast. Besides they'll be looking for a couple with children."
Marc shrugged. "Maybe you're right." He sighed and stretched out on the
grass at Toffee's side. "It's really very restful here," he said.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than it happened, the earth
began to rock beneath them. The little valley was seized by a spasm, it
lurched crazily from side to side in an erratic see-saw motion. Marc
dug his fingers into the grass, but it didn't help; in a moment he was
rolling swiftly down the side of the knoll, heading into a thick bank
of blue mist. Behind him he could hear Toffee calling to him, but her
words were muffled and unintelligible though her tone was cheerful and
unworried.
And then the mist closed over him, turned into fog and became dense and
black.
* * * * *
Someone was shaking Marc's shoulder when he opened his eyes, and he
looked up into the anxious face of Mr. Culpepper.
"The girl!" Mr. Culpepper was crying. "Gone! Entirely gone. I didn't
see her take any of the pills, but she's gone!"
Marc gazed dazedly around the room, heard himself echoing the word
"gone."
"I didn't mean to do anything like this!" Mr. Culpepper wailed. "I
didn't mean to destroy anyone."
To Marc, the room and his thoughts became clear in the same moment.
He gazed at Mr. Culpepper's anguished face and smiled. Perhaps the
little man deserved the remorse he was feeling; perhaps it was his
just payment for tampering too much with the natural order of things.
Still....
"I'm sure she's all right," Marc said. "She probably just wandered out
when you weren't looking. She often does. Sometimes she just drifts
away for whole months at a time. I wouldn't worry about it."
The little man looked up, smiled with relief. "She's so pretty," he
said. "She's an awful heller but she's such a pretty one."
* * * * *
Two days later Marc was sitting at his desk, going through the morning
mail, when Memphis opened the door and came in.
"The boys are here," she said.
"Boys?" Marc asked, looking up.
"You know. The applicants for the messenger boy job. There are several
waiting. Shall I send them in?"
Marc dropped the letter in his hand and gazed absently out the window.
"Oh, all right," he said. "Run them through."
Memphis left the room. A moment later there was a tap at the door.
"Come in!" Marc called without turning.
The door opened and footsteps moved into the room. There was a long
moment of silence and then a throat anxiously cleared itself nearby.
Marc turned around. A small boy, about twelve, regarded him from
the other side of the desk ... a small boy with eager eyes and a
hawk-featured face.
"Culpepper!" Marc yelled.
The boy twisted his cap nervously. "Yes," he said. "It's me, Mr.
Pillsworth. Your secretary kept throwing me out."
"I told her to."
The boyish Culpepper nodded. "That's why I took the pills. It was the
only way I could get in."
"There are several ways you can get out," Marc said menacingly. "One of
them is with a broken neck."
Mr. Culpepper started waving his small hands. "You must listen to me,
Mr. Pillsworth. I have something sensational to show you. You remember
we were talking about something that would make people immortal?
Well...." He paused to fish a small green bottle out of his pocket.
"Well...."
"Out!" Marc was on his feet, yelling. "Out! OUT!"
The boy's eyes widened with alarm. He turned and scurried for the door
like a frightened rat.
"Don't!" he shrieked. "Don't throw that paper weight, Mr. Pillsworth!
I'm leaving, Mr. Pillsworth! I'm _leaving_!" He scooted through the
door and slammed it after him.
Marc replaced the paper weight on the desk and sank back into his
chair. For a long time he just sat there, staring blankly across the
room. Then, slowly, a smile crept into his face.
Somewhere in the back of his mind there was laughter.