"Changing your story a little, aren't you?" Reggie said triumphantly.
"Well, since when has Death been announced by personal messengers? A man
steps in front of a car. He's killed. That's all there is to it. There
aren't little black men standing on the curb pushing him into the
street, are there? And they don't come around a couple of hours in
advance tipping him off, do they? No!"
"When a mortal passes over," Mr. Demise said, "there is always an agent
of Death present superintending the details. But he is not always
visible to his charge."
Reggie poured himself a drink and lit a cigarette.
"Well, thanks just the same," he said, "but I don't want any special
effects when I pass over. If there's a messenger of Death around I don't
_want_ to see him. Just let him stay invisible. That's the way I want
it."
Mr. Demise looked slightly pained. There was an embarrassed look on his
normally expressionless features.
"Usually the agent of Death is invisible," he said. "In fact his orders
are to remain invisible under all circumstances."
"Okay then," Reggie said. "You're breaking orders. Be a nice obedient
chum now and fade away."
Mr. Demise shrugged and stepped backward--_and suddenly he was gone_! He
had disappeared into thin air, soundlessly, instantaneously.
"Why what?" Reggie said blandly. He started to sip his drink when
suddenly the full realization of what had happened burst on him. The
drink fell from his nerveless fingers with a crash.
He stared frantically about the room.
_Mr. Demise was gone!_ It was incredible! It was unbelievable! But it
was a fact!
He poured himself another drink and drained it in one breathless gulp.
He felt his reason tottering as his gaze swung desperately about the
room.
"Mr. Demise!" he cried. "Come back! Where are you!"
"I am here before you," Mr. Demise's voice sounded in the air. "Are you
convinced now?"
Reggie mopped his forehead weakly.
"Yes," he gasped. "I'm convinced."
* * * * *
Mr. Demise reappeared as suddenly as he had vanished. He smiled faintly
at Reggie. He was apparently completely unruffled by his transformation.
Reggie poured himself another drink with trembling fingers.
"D-don't do that any more," he pleaded.
"As you wish," Mr. Demise said agreeably. "I am sorry if I shocked you.
I can see now that it was a mistake to let you see me in the first
place. I understand now why it is strictly forbidden."
Reggie drained his drink.
"I wish you hadn't decided to break regulations," he said moodily. "I've
never been so upset in all my life. Why didn't you remain invisible, if
you're supposed to? You aren't going to creep into people's hearts if
you pop up and announce yourself as an agent of Death and start making
speeches about whisking them off to the Land of Darkness. People just
don't like that sort of thing. By all means stay invisible in the
future."
Mr. Demise shuffled awkwardly and for the first time his poise seemed
deserting him.
"You're absolutely right," he said gloomily. "But I was curious."
"That's a fine excuse," Reggie said scathingly. "I should think they'd
get a man of tact and diplomacy for your job. Not some nosy person whose
curiosity runs away with him."
"You see," Mr. Demise explained miserably, "you happened to be my first
assignment. I've had no experience at all in this work and I was curious
to see what kind of person I was going to take back with me. And I
wanted to get a first-hand reaction from you."
Reggie mixed himself another drink. He was beginning to feel
belligerent.
"So?" he cried. "They sent an amateur down to get me, did they? I
suppose I don't rate an experienced escort. So they sent you. I'm
surprised they didn't just tell the office boy to do the job."
"Your levity is poor taste," Mr. Demise observed frigidly. "I can assure
you that I am perfectly qualified to act as your guide to the Other
World. I have studied hard to perfect myself for my work and I was
considered one of the outstanding pupils in the class which just
graduated. You do not have to relieve your spite by making slighting
references to my professional ability."
"Bah!" Reggie said. "If you have any professional ability it hasn't been
noticeable so far. You're just out of some college, aren't you? You talk
like a college boy. You don't make sense."
Mr. Demise looked hurt.
"I'm sorry you're taking this attitude," he said. "I had hoped we could
be friends."
"Friends!" Reggie shrieked. "Am I expected to be friendly with some
ghoul who comes prowling around threatening to whisk me off to Eternity?
What more do they expect of me? To pay my own way too, I suppose."
"Your passage will be taken care of at the other end," Mr. Demise said.
"Since you have taken such an ungracious stand we will not dally
further."
* * * * *
"Now wait a minute," Reggie said. He felt his throat getting dry. The
prospects of Death were not pleasant. He didn't want to die right now.
He had things to do. There was that badminton match next week with
Snuffy Smith....
"Can't we put this thing off a while?" he asked hopefully. "There's no
sense in rushing things, I always say. Why don't you go off and get
yourself a lot of experience and then come back for me?"
"That is impossible," Mr. Demise said flatly. He drew from his inside
coat pocket a slim black book which he opened to the first page. "You
are first on my list and I must carry out my orders to the letter. All
the information as to person, place and method is contained in this book
and it would be impossible to change it."
"Place and method, eh?" Reggie said weakly. He ran a finger around the
inside of his collar. "You mean you've got the dope there on how it's
going to happen and when it's going to happen?"
"Certainly," Mr. Demise replied. "We don't use a hit-or-miss method.
Everything is worked out to a science. You, for instance, are--" Mr.
Demise paused and shook his head. "No," he continued, "I can't tell you.
That is also against instructions."
"You haven't paid much attention to instructions so far," Reggie said
sulkily. "Can't you give me a hint as to how I'm going to get it?"
Mr. Demise shook his head firmly.
"That would be an unthinkable breach of conduct," he said, shaking his
head severely and frowning. "Absolutely unthinkable."
"All right," Reggie said resignedly. There was no point, he realized, in
arguing with this inhuman icicle. "But let's have a drink before we get
down to--er--business."
"I am not allowed to drink while on duty," Mr. Demise said primly.
"For gosh sakes," Reggie said disgustedly, "you weren't thinking about
your precious orders and regulations when you followed me around,
scaring the hell out of me. Oh no! That was all right. But when I ask
you to do a little something outside the letter of your instructions
it's no soap. If there's anything fair in that I can't see it."
Mr. Demise shuffled uncomfortably.
"It was indiscreet of me to allow you to see me," he said thoughtfully.
"Perhaps your objection is justifiable. It might square things a bit if
I would take a drink with you. Not that I would expect to enjoy the
stuff but it seems the fair thing to do."
"Fine," Reggie said.
He mixed two drinks in somber silence. Because he realized that it was
probably the last time he would ever perform that pleasant chore, he put
his heart and soul into the task and when he finally handed Mr. Demise
his drink it was a veritable masterpiece.
Mr. Demise drank the drink--it was a double Martini with a splash of
Quantro--in one long appreciative gulp. He set the glass down and sighed
contentedly.
"Another?" Reggie suggested hopefully.
"No," Mr. Demise said, "one is plenty. As a matter of fact," he said,
"that's the first drink I ever had. Alcohol is one of our finest helpers
but we aren't supposed to touch it. Personally I think its intoxicating
effect is greatly overrated."
* * * * *
Reggie leaned forward and there was a peculiar gleam in his eyes.
"So that was your first drink, eh?" he asked. "And you don't feel
anything?"
"Not a thing," said Mr. Demise. "Of course I notice a certain glow, but
that's all."
"Just a certain glow, eh?" Reggie said.
"Thash all," Mr. Demise said. He sat down suddenly. "And my tongue ish a
lil' thick."
"Well, that's only natural," Reggie said. He mixed another drink and
there was a cryptic smile on his lips. "Alcohol is a peculiar thing. One
drink will addle a person's wits and the second will act as an antidote.
Strange, isn't it?"
Mr. Demise rocked slightly in the chair. His coal-black eyes were a bit
glazed. "Ish very strange," he conceded.
"Possibly you'd like to try the antidote?" Reggie said casually.
"Might not be a bad idea," said Mr. Demise.
Reggie handed him the second drink and watched contentedly as Mr. Demise
drank it down. Mr. Demise set down the glass.
"You wush right," he said, slumping against the back of the chair.
"Absolutely right. Second drink ish an antidote. Jush what I needed."
"Absolutely," Reggie agreed solemnly.
Mr. Demise closed his eyes but he opened them almost immediately. He
struggled up to a sitting position.
"I hash something to do," he muttered. His hand groped into the inside
of his coat, returned with the slim black book. "Very important," he
mumbled. "First assignment. Can't have any slip ups."
Reggie moistened his lips nervously. He eyed the little black book
carefully. That might be the way....
"How about another drink, old boy," he said heartily. He mixed one
quickly, handed it to Mr. Demise. Mr. Demise took it in his left hand
and Reggie deftly plucked the black book from his right hand. Mr. Demise
appeared not to notice the exchange. He drank the drink methodically.
Reggie tossed the book under a coffee table.
Mr. Demise climbed unsteadily to his feet.
Reggie took him by the arm. "What say we go out and have a few quick
antidotes?" he suggested.
Mr. Demise nodded stupidly. He mumbled something unintelligible and
allowed Reggie to lead him to the door. Reggie's brain was working at
full speed. If he could just ditch Mr. Demise and get back to the book
everything might be saved. His idea was sheer brilliance....
* * * * *
Their first destination was a bar. Reggie found a cab, shoved Mr. Demise
inside and ordered the driver to one of the dozens of friendly bars with
which he was familiar.
At the first stop Mr. Demise had two more drinks. When he had drained
the second Reggie hauled him to his feet and started for another palate
palace. His object was to keep Mr. Demise so bewildered and drunk that
he would forget his job.
For a while he succeeded. Mr. Demise followed him helplessly from bar to
bar and sat tottering on high stools happily pouring fiery intoxicants
into his already overburdened stomach.
But finally he reached the state of saturation where the liquor produced
a steadily diminishing effect. Reggie watched him worriedly and ordered
more and more drinks.
But it was no use.
In spite of the enormous quantities of liquor he had consumed, Mr.
Demise was slowly sobering up. His face was losing its blank expression
and an intelligent gleam was creeping back into his eyes.
He began to fumble uncertainly through his pockets, a worried expression
settling over his features.
Reggie slapped him on the back resoundingly.
"Have a drink!" he shouted into his ear.
Mr. Demise shook his head stubbornly.
"Got a job to do," he muttered. He went slowly through his pockets and
an expression of horror replaced the worried look on his face.
"Where's my book?" he gasped. "I've lost my book! This is terrible. I've
got to find it!"
"What book?" Reggie asked innocently.
"The book with all the names and places and dates and methods," Mr.
Demise moaned. "I've lost it."
Reggie shrugged philosophically.
"Too bad," he said. "But things are never as black as they seem. Maybe
it'll turn up somewhere. The thing to do is just sit tight until someone
finds it and reports it."
"I can't wait," wailed Mr. Demise. "These things have to happen on
schedule. There'd be an awful rumpus in the complaint department if I
started sending people up there haphazardly. And I don't even remember
whom I've got on the list. You're the only one I'm sure of."
Reggie choked on his drink.
"Yes," Mr. Demise went on obliviously, "you're the first. I'm sure of
that much. And I'd better send you along right away. I'll do that much
correctly, at least."
"Now, just a minute," Reggie said, "how're you sure you've got me right?
I looked at that book and I don't think I'm the man you want at all."
"You looked at the book!" cried Mr. Demise with sudden suspicion. "So
that's where it went. That's why you got me drunk. You stole my book,
hoping to evade your destiny, didn't you?"
"Nothing of the sort," Reggie said, forcing a note of outraged
indignation into his voice.
"Yes you did," Mr. Demise said. "I'm not going to wait a second longer
in your case. Mr. Fiddler, prepare yourself for a long trip and don't
plan on coming back."
* * * * *
Reggie realized that the jig was up. Mr. Demise had a grim business-like
note in his voice and there was no hope of prolonging things further.
Drastic action was needed, not discussion.
With a leap like a startled gazelle Reggie left his stool and bounded
for the door. Before Mr. Demise could turn around, he was in the street,
shouting frantically for a cab.
A cab pulled to the curb and Reggie leaped into its dark interior. Over
his shoulder he saw Mr. Demise stagger from the bar, a wrathful
expression stamped on his dark features.
The cab started away with a roar. Reggie shouted his address at the
driver and squirmed about to peek out the rear window.
He saw Mr. Demise clambering into another cab.
"Hurry!" he shouted to his driver.
"Life or death, eh?" the cabby said conversationally.