Marc and Toffee swung quickly out of the courtroom and started down
the corridor. They were not entirely certain that they were officially
allowed this break from the smothering embrace of the law, but since it
was a love that was totally unrequited they felt perfectly justified in
nipping it off as cleanly and quickly as possible. Besides, neither was
in a mood to ask questions.
Marc frowned deeply. The future, in view of past events, was not
reassuring. He wondered what night it was that he had lain awake and
felt a happy anticipation at strange and wonderful things about to
happen. It didn't seem possible that it could have been only night
before last; it must have been years and years ago in view of all
that had happened. Certainly, in a most disturbing way, the strange
and wonderful things had come to pass, but the feeling of happy
anticipation had been shot to hell in its very beginnings.
How could things possibly have gotten themselves into so
incomprehensible a snarl in just the space of a few short hours? Only
a day and a night had passed and now, here he was with a divorce,
an irresponsible redhead, a criminal record and several volumes of
unfavorable publicity on his hands. And to top it all off, though he
was subject to the laws of gravity at the moment, he had taken to
floating about in the air like a demented balloon. Also, he had the
forbidding feeling that he might revert to a condition of buoyancy at
any given moment.
Marc sighed heavily and cursed the day he conceived the idea of the
basement laboratory. If there was any small comfort remaining to
him at all it came only from a patently comfortless cliche: things
couldn't possibly get any worse. He didn't see the courtroom door swing
mysteriously open behind him, waver for a moment, then swing shut again.
Neither did Marc see the horrible Blemish twins following behind him
and Toffee in the corridor shadows. His attention, instead, had been
drawn to the two men in double-breasted suits who were shoving their
way toward him through the crowd. Though Marc was certain that the two,
regardless of what their business might be, could be the bearers of
only bad tidings, he hadn't the will left in him to try to avoid them.
One more worry, added to the multitude he already had, would hardly be
noticed. Taking Toffee's hand, he stopped and waited resignedly for the
two to catch up to them.
"Mr. Pillsworth?" the first man nodded.
"Could there be any doubt?" Toffee said dully.
The man glanced at Toffee, startled a little at her costume, then
returned his gaze firmly and resolutely to Marc.
"We are with the Federal Government," he said. He nodded toward the
courtroom from which Marc and Toffee had just departed. "I'm sorry we
didn't get here sooner; we could have saved you all that trouble."
"Now it's the Feds," Toffee murmured. "More cops ... more
courtrooms ... more judges ... more questions ... wurra, wurra."
No one paid any attention.
"We've been to your home, Mr. Pillsworth," the man went on. "We've gone
over your laboratory very thoroughly, and it's our opinion that you've
turned up something that could be of great interest to the government.
In a military way. Your wife explained to us that your intention was
to facilitate construction, and I suppose, in a way, you've succeeded.
However, in the process, you've also discovered an explosive of most
extraordinary properties."
"How was Julie when you saw her?" Marc asked.
"Mrs. Pillsworth was most cooperative," the man said, acknowledging
the interruption. "However, she was quite busy while we were there. I
gathered she was closing up the house, taking a trip somewhere."
"Did she say when she was leaving?" Marc asked anxiously.
"I believe she said this evening," the man said. "I supposed you knew
all about it. Anyway, to get on--in our opinion you have stumbled
across a new type of bomb that is so advanced as to make the A bomb
completely obsolete. Briefly, it is easily possible that a bomb
could be made of your formula and constructed in such a way as to
be detonated by the final chemical. It could be used to wipe out
whole cities, to wipe them off the face of the earth without a trace.
Every stick, stone, human being and piece of mortar could be made to
simply rise and disappear from the earth's surface within a matter of
minutes. That's rather a terrifying secret to hold entirely in your own
possession, Mr. Pillsworth."
"Yes, indeed," Marc said absently. "Terrifying."
"In other words, for the sake of national security, the government
cannot possibly allow you to have your discovery all to yourself any
longer. I'm sure you can understand that. We would like to talk to
you and go over your formula in private. Your notes are still intact,
aren't they?"
* * * * *
Marc's hand went automatically to the inner pocket of his jacket where
he had secured the notebook. He nodded.
"Oh, yes," he murmured.
"Good. Then suppose we go to one of the...."
"I'd like to go home first, if I may," Marc broke in. "I have to see my
wife before she leaves. It's very important. And there are a few extra
notes in my room at the house. I could get them all together...."
The man hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded. "All right," he
said. "After all we're the only ones who know about this. Only let me
caution you not to talk to anyone."
"I won't say a word," Marc said, and nodded toward Toffee. "She
couldn't say anything; she doesn't understand any of it."
"Fine," the man said. "Then will it be all right if we come to your
house this evening?"
"That'll be fine," Marc said quickly, anxious to be free of them. "I'll
see you then."
Marc and Toffee watched the two men disappear down the corridor and up
a stairway.
"Terribly morbid pair, aren't they?" Toffee said. "It's enough to make
your flesh crawl, all this talk about wiping out cities and people and
things."
"It's their business," Marc said.
Toffee glanced behind her. "I don't like to mention it," she said in an
undertone, "but there are a pair of perfectly loathsome little men back
there, and I think they're following us. For my money they look exactly
like spies. They seem to skulk, if you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," Marc said. "I saw them in the courtroom.
Probably they're perfectly harmless. Anyone who looked like that would
have to be. Anyway, I haven't time to worry about any skulking; I've
got to get home. Let's get out of here."
"Am I going with you?" Toffee asked.
Marc nodded. "I've decided it's the best way. We'll just sit down and
tell Julie all about you."
"She'll never believe it," Toffee said. "If she does, she's a lot
crazier than I think she is."
"She'll have to believe it," Marc said earnestly. "If worst comes to
worst, I'll knock myself out and she can see you vanish and reappear
for herself."
"We could ask the neighbors in too," Toffee observed wryly. "We could
serve punch and do it as a sort of parlor entertainment."
"Don't be silly," Marc said. "Come on."
"I'm game," Toffee murmured. "I just wonder if Julie's up to it, that's
all."
"Maybe I should call her first," Marc said, catching sight of a row
of phone booths at the end of the corridor. "Just to make sure she's
there."
"You might check on the condition of her heart, too," Toffee said.
"Just as a precaution."
They started forward and had nearly reached the booths when Marc
suddenly stopped short.
"Now what?" Toffee asked.
Marc inclined his head to listen. "Do you keep hearing footsteps?" he
asked.
"Sure," Toffee said. "All over the place. With these marble floors...."
"No, not those," Marc said. "Right behind us. I keep hearing someone
walking right behind me, but there's no one there."
"Well," Toffee said slowly, "I didn't want to be the first to mention
it, but...."
* * * * *
Suddenly, they were both silent, their eyes intent on the floor and
a cigarette stub that had begun to behave with shocking abnormality.
Still alight, as it had been dropped, it suddenly crushed itself out
flat against the floor and ceased to smoke. It was for all the world as
though someone had stepped on it to put it out, and yet there wasn't a
human foot within yards of the thing.
"Oh, my gosh!" Toffee breathed. "Do you suppose that thing realizes
what it can do to a nervous system with a trick like that?"
"What do you suppose it is?" Marc asked.
"It's a cigarette stub," Toffee said. "And it's gone mad. It's
completely out of its head. Let's just pay it no mind, treat it with
complete contempt. Maybe it'll crawl away and do its odious little
stunt for someone who likes that sort of thing."
"You may be right," Marc said without the slightest tone of belief. He
turned away, but his gaze remained furtively on the flattened stub.
Since there was no further disturbance, he pulled himself together and
started toward one of the phone booths. Toffee watched after him with
careful intensity.
But if either of them thought they'd had the last of madness from
inanimate objects, they were woefully mistaken. The phone booth was
next to become possessed. It was as though the hulking enclosure had
been waiting in prey for Marc. No sooner did Marc stick his head inside
the booth than the doors, without any visible guidance, snapped shut,
caught him by the neck, and held him fast. Toffee started back with a
cry of pure surprise.
"Help!" Marc wheezed from inside the booth. "Help!"
It was a moment before Toffee was capable of action, but she did her
best to make up for lost time. She started forward to the attack with a
vengeance. But no sooner had she come within reaching distance of the
booth and the door than she was mysteriously and invisibly thrust back.
She renewed her efforts but was only repelled for a second time. She
paused to consider the door, the booth and her own emotions, rapidly
approaching a state of blind rage.
It was just as she had braced herself and hunched angrily forward for
the third attack that the woman came out of the booth next to the one
in which Marc was trapped. She took one look at the determined redhead
and drew her own conclusions.
"Hold off, honey!" she screamed. "You can have the booth! I'm through!"
But Toffee had already hurled herself forward in a headlong, firm-jawed
lunge. The woman screamed shrilly and departed the booth and the
vicinity with the speed of a deer in season. In the next split second
Toffee collided with Marc's invisible captor. There was a dull thud, a
small skirmishing, and then Toffee, apparently bearing her opponent
to the floor with her, went down in tangled triumph. The door of the
telephone booth flew open and Marc dropped to his knees, gasping for
air.
George, thoroughly humiliated at having been bested by a mere whisp of
a girl, became emotionally confused, lost control, as before in the
courtroom, and completely materialized. He looked up at Toffee sprawled
untidily across his chest, and flushed.
"You didn't have to knock me down," he murmured woundedly.
Toffee glanced down at her defeated adversary and started with
amazement.
"Marc!" she cried. "How did you get down there?"
At the phone booth Marc was still panting for breath. "Did you expect
me to come out of there dancing a rhumba?" he asked peevishly.
Toffee whirled about. "Marc!" she yelled.
"Stop screaming my name at me," Marc said. "All I want is...!"
* * * * *
His voice retreated down his throat with a gurgle of surprise as he
caught sight of George.
"Wha...!"
Toffee turned from one to the other. "Which one of you is which?" she
gasped confusedly.
"I'm me," Marc murmured vaguely. "Who's he?"
Toffee sprang away from her perch on George's chest.
"Oh, mother!" she cried.
"Well," George said resignedly, getting to his feet. "I suppose that
I might as well admit it, now that you've found me out." He turned to
Marc. "I'm your ghost."
"_Ghost!_" Marc and Toffee sang it out together. As Marc sprang to
his feet, they both closed in on George, crowded him back defensively
into one of the phone booths.
During all this, the incident had attracted several innocent bystanders
who were now looking on with baffled interest.
"What have they got in there?" one official-looking gentleman asked
another. "Did you see?"
The other shook his head. "I think they said it was a goat."
"A goat? What on earth are they doing with a goat in there? Do you
suppose they have the beast talking to someone on the phone?"
"If they have," the second replied, "it had better yell for help.
They were crowding the poor thing something awful. On the other hand,
maybe they just wanted to milk it. If it's a modest goat it might be
reluctant about being milked right out here in the middle of the hall."
"I know I would," the first gentleman said, "if I were a goat. I
wouldn't blame it a bit. It's shocking, just the thought of it."
"They're doing the best they can," the second gentleman reminded. "I
can see where a reluctant goat wouldn't be the easiest thing in the
world to get along with."
"Just the same, I don't approve," the first man said. "Not even a
little bit. If the goat is shy, they shouldn't bring it out in public
to milk it like this."
"Maybe they're trying to teach it social poise," the second man
suggested.
"I don't care," the first said. "Livestock should be left at home.
Someone should speak to the Health Commissioner about this!"
The second man shook his head with mild amusement. "That shouldn't be
difficult for you," he said. "You are the Health Commissioner. Or did
they get you in the last clean-up?"
The first man looked at him sharply. "The devil you say!" he exclaimed.
He thought about it for a moment. "By heaven, you're right. Sometimes
I forget. I thought I was the Water Commissioner. Haven't been to my
office for weeks to see what it says on the door." He started away,
then turned back. "Why don't you come in and complain to me about this
goat? It wouldn't look right if I complained to myself, would it? My
secretary would think it was odd."
Meanwhile Marc and Toffee had wedged themselves into the doorway of the
telephone booth and were staring incredulously at George.
"Well," George said uneasily, "haven't you ever seen a ghost before?"
"I should hope to tell you I haven't," Toffee said fervently. She
looked at George with suspicion. "How do we know you're a ghost? Can
you prove it?"
"Do I have to?" George said unhappily.
"It would help clear things up considerably," Marc said. "Personally, I
don't believe a word of it."
George stared at them for a long moment, then sighed. "Oh, all right,"
he murmured. "If you insist. Of course this is terribly corny, and you
probably won't like it, but it should give you an idea."
* * * * *
As Marc and Toffee watched, George carefully controlled his ectoplasm,
dissolved his head down to a grinning skull, and issued a low moaning
sound.
"Mother in heaven!" Toffee said, closing her eyes. "Stop doing that!"
George, only too happy to do so, quickly rematerialized his head. "I
told you you wouldn't like it," he said.
"But how could you be my ghost?" Marc said shakenly. "I'm not dead."
"Are you sure?" Toffee said. "Personally, I feel quite dead and gone to
hell after looking at that."
"But you're supposed to be dead," George said with sudden
self-righteousness. "If you were any good at all, you'd be mouldering
in your grave at this very moment. You were supposed to have been blown
to bits in an explosion. That's why they sent me."
"Who sent you?" Marc asked.
"I'd rather not discuss them, if it's all the same to you," George said.
"Well," Marc said, "I'm alive. So you can just go back to them, whoever
they are, and tell them they're mistaken."
"But I don't want to go back," George said unhappily. He looked at Marc
speculatively. "Couldn't you just sort of kick off?"
"I beg your pardon?" Marc asked incredulously. "Do I understand you
right? Are you asking me to kill myself just to accommodate you?"
"Oh, you wouldn't have to do it all yourself," George said. "I'd be
very happy to assist you."
"So!" Toffee cried. "So that's what you were up to! You were trying to
strangle him with that phone booth!"
George shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't think I should pass up any
opportunity. I'll admit it's not a very fancy way to die...."
"You fiend!" Marc said. "You horror!"
"Oh, please, no!" George objected woundedly. "You just aren't looking
at the thing right, that's all. Fair's fair, you know. After all, I've
been waiting years for you to pop off, and...."
"And you're going to wait a great many more years as far as I'm
concerned!" Marc said.
"I was afraid you'd be narrow about it," George said dejectedly. Tears
came to his eyes. "I've always had to take your left-overs. Your second
name, even. I couldn't call myself Marc, because that was the name you
wanted. I had to take George. It's unjust."
"Well, don't go on about it," Toffee said. "There's no use blubbering."
"You might just as well go away," Marc said firmly. "I'll be damned if
I'm going to pop off, as you so picturesquely put it, just to please a
spook with criminal tendencies." He glanced heavenward. "This, on top
of everything else!"
The tears welled larger in George's unhappy eyes. He looked at Toffee
and Marc and flushed at making such an open display of his emotions. To
hide his feelings he sadly dissolved his head. The thin air above his
shoulders echoed with a moist snuffle.
"Oh, Lord!" Toffee moaned. "He's up to his tricks again! Would you
listen to that?"
"I wouldn't if I could help it," Marc said.
"Let's get away from this snivelling shade before he drives us crazy,"
Toffee said urgently. "I'm so upset I wouldn't be surprised if I walked
out of here on my hands."
"The way he is right now," Marc agreed, "he's the most haunting ghost
I've ever seen. I'll certainly never forget him."
Together, they turned and moved away from the phone booth and quickly
down the corridor.
"He'll have to shift for himself," Marc said. "I've got other things to
worry about."
As they moved away, out of the entrance of the building, several of
the more curious spectators converged on the phone booth and glanced
cautiously inside.
It was empty.
Outside, an officer showed Marc and Toffee to the green convertible
which had been delivered there by the government men. Marc helped
Toffee in, then crossed around and slid in under the wheel. With a
look of determination, he shifted the gears and directed the car into
traffic.
The sound of the shifting gears obscured the muffled snuffling sound
that emanated briefly from the back seat.