"Pinched my gadget," Toffee insisted. "The one with the button."
"Now just a minute," the judge said a little wildly. "Wasn't it the
blonde woman who had her gadget pinched?"
"Don't be silly," Toffee said. "She hasn't a gadget to be pinched."
"She hasn't?" the judge said in a startled whisper. "What happened to
her gadget?"
"I guess she just didn't have one in the first place," Toffee said.
"You can't just go out and buy them, you know."
* * * * *
The judge turned to the cop. "Do you know anything about why this
blonde woman doesn't have a gadget?" he asked interestedly.
"Search me," the cop said. "I didn't know she didn't. Maybe it's
because her husband's a butcher. Maybe...."
"Don't," the judge cried, shuddering. "Don't go on! I don't even want
to think about it."
"Well, who cares about her gadget anyway?" Toffee asked bewilderedly.
"It's _my_ gadget I'm trying to tell you about."
"And I don't want to hear about it," the judge said shortly. "This
court is no place for examination room discussions."
"Or much of anything else," Toffee retorted angrily. "Especially
justice."
"Look, judge," Marc put in desperately. "You've got to listen to me.
About all this bacteria...."
"Bacteria?" the judge said, startled. "What about bacteria?"
"It's a threat," Marc said. "It's got to be stopped."
The judge nodded. "My dentist said the same thing the other day. Are
you a dentist?"
"Of course I'm not a dentist," Marc said. "It's the congressman."
"That's preposterous," the judge said. "The congressman isn't a
dentist, never has been. You're just trying to rattle me."
Again, as Marc started to speak, the voice from behind took over.
"That's rich, that is," it slurred. "You were rattled the day you were
born, you old tosspot, and you've been getting balmier ever since. If
you have the brain of a gnat...."
The gavel smashed down on the bench like the crack of doom.
"Go!" the judge said. "Go and leave me alone! You're all trying to
drive me out of my mind."
"With a mind like yours," Toffee said, "it would be a fast drive on a
kiddy car."
"Go!" the judge screamed. "Go away!"
Defeated by sheer volume, Marc and Toffee retreated back to their
chairs and sat down. The one next to Marc's scraped back a trifle of
its own volition.
"You fiend!" Marc hissed at the empty chair. "That was a fine mess,
wasn't it?"
"Glad you admire my work," George said complacently out of thin air.
"Isn't it remarkable how exactly alike our voices sound?"
"Go to hell," Marc said sullenly.
"If I do I'll probably meet you there," George said. "The old boy has
you marked down for a sanity test. I heard him say so as you left up
there. Somehow, it warms me to think of you locked up with a bunch of
homicidal maniacs. Who's to say what might happen to you?"
The gavel rapped on the bench again, this time more calmly.
"I'd like to speak to the congressman," the judge announced. "Not that
I put any stock in the ridiculous accusations of that black-hearted
nit-wit, but I would like to talk to someone rational for a change."
Across the room, the congressman rose from his chair with portly
composure.
"I'm happy for the opportunity to defend myself against the ravings of
this lunatic," he said smoothly, "though I'm certain the court hasn't
taken them the least bit seriously."
"Of course not, congressman," the judge said grandly. "This court is
always fair and impartial. Step up and have a chair. I'm sorry I can't
offer you a drink during session, but perhaps we could have lunch
together somewhere?"
"Good grief!" Toffee whispered. "They're carrying on like old
sweet-hearts."
* * * * *
The congressman smiled pityingly at Marc. "Actually, I have the
greatest compassion for our poor friend here," he said magnanimously.
"Who knows what dreadful experience drove him out of his senses?"
"Why the old foghorn!" Marc hissed between clenched teeth. "He's got
enough gall to float a fleet."
"As for his fantastic charges," the congressman continued, "they're
almost too silly to refute." He beamed on the judge. "I think you know
just about how subversive I am, your honor."
The judge smiled broadly. "Call me Ralph," he said.
"Okay, Ralph," the congressman smiled. "And about that bacteria
business; the only bacteria culture I have is home in the refrigerator.
I just happened to let some cheese go mouldy."
The judge laughed immoderately. "Oh, Congressman!" he gasped, wiping
his eyes. "You always were a wit!"
Toffee frowned her disapproval. "This is worse than television," she
said.
"What am I going to do?" Marc said. "I can't let him get away with it.
I'll wind up in an asylum while he sells the whole country down the
river."
Toffee nodded morosely. "We've got to think of something," she said.
"If they won't listen to sense, I guess the only thing to do is resort
to madness."
"How do you mean?"
"Trade seats with me," Toffee said. "I want to talk to George."
"It won't do any good. He won't listen to sense any more than the rest
of them."
"That's all right," Toffee said. "What I have in mind is more
nonsense--and a little hypnotism."
"Hypnotism?"
"Uh-huh. I told you I've been studying. Come on, trade."
* * * * *
As unobtrusively as possible they changed seats. Toffee settled
herself, crossed her legs with care, and turned to the vacant seat at
her side. When she spoke her voice was husky and confidential.
"Look, George," she said, "I've been thinking...."
The chair quivered interestedly. "Yes?" George's voice said out of
emptiness. "What about?"
"You and me," Toffee said. "I've just been going over things in my
mind, and you know, George, I've really been sort of foolish."
"How do you mean?"
"Well take the way I always favor Marc against you. Suddenly it just
occurred to me that there's no logical reason for it. After all you're
just alike--except for a few little differences, of course."
"Oh?" George said, a note of interest creeping into his voice. "What
differences?"
"Well, for instance, you're more aggressive, George. You have a more
active, dynamic personality. You're the sort who knows what he wants
and goes out after it."
"I suppose you could say that," George admitted. "What else?"
"You're cleverer, too. Look at the way you've got Marc bottled up right
now, for example. He's a dead duck. In fact, to tell you the truth,
George, you make Marc look pretty sick. I'm beginning to think a girl
would be much better off with you."
George cleared his throat. "You're sure you mean it?" he asked.
"Of course I do," Toffee said. "Why wouldn't I, George? It's not just
that you're cleverer and more dominant than Marc, there are other
little things too, things only a woman would notice. Your eyes, for
instance."
"My eyes?"
Toffee nodded. "Uh-huh. Your eyes are ever so much more exciting than
Marc's. I don't know what it is, but there's a subtle difference. I
guess it's personality. I've always noticed it."
"Oh, my eyes aren't all that good," George demurred. "Pleasant and
friendly, perhaps, but...."
"Oh, much more than that," Toffee insisted. "Flashing and roguish."
"You really think so?"
"Certainly. That and more." Toffee paused for a moment, appeared
hesitant. "George...?"
"Yes, Toffee?"
"Would you show me your eyes? Just materialize them for a moment so I
can gaze into them?"
"Do you really like them that much?"
"Please, George...."
"Well ... all right."
* * * * *
And so it was that the congressman, long distracted by a view of Toffee
fawning on a vacant chair, suddenly found himself staring across the
room at two disembodied eyes which lolled in mid-air, swiveling and
rolling about in a delirious attempt to be flashing and roguish. He
coughed in a strangled way and glanced around at the judge.
The judge, had the congressman been astute enough to notice, had
suddenly gone white about the gills and showed a shifty disinclination
to meet his gaze. The truth of the matter was that the judge, similarly
baffled by Toffee's seductive attitude toward the chair, had also been
subjected to the nasty sight of George's grotesque eye exercises. He,
like the congressman, had experienced a feeling of giddiness at the
nape of the neck and decided against mentioning the incident. After
gazing upon a pair of air-borne eyes which have just crossed themselves
in their zeal to convey the charm of the rake, one is generally loath
to bring the subject up with anyone save the local psychiatrist.
However, had either gentleman had the least inkling of the mad delights
yet to come, they might have well bolted the room, shouting the news to
the world.
The fact was that Toffee, in her endeavor to hypnotize George, was
meeting with extraordinary success. Having gazed into George's eyes
with his full cooperation it was only the matter of a moment before
the hapless shade was completely mesmerized. The eyes, under Toffee's
steady gaze, grew heavy, drooped, closed altogether, then reopened with
a slightly dazed appearance. It was not a pleasant sight, but Toffee
appeared to find satisfaction in it.
Not so, however, the judge and the congressman. Watching these
developments with sidelong anxiety, they were sore put to it to
continue with the business at hand.
"Yes, yes," the judge said vaguely, "you were telling me about this
blackguard who's been saying all these filthy things about you...?"
"Eh?" the congressman said, starting. "_Oh!_ Oh, yes. This fellow, the
blackguard. I was saying that if he was half a man...!"
The congressman got no further for it was precisely in this moment
that Toffee commanded George to materialize. There must have been,
however, a lack of authority in her tone, for the results fell short of
perfection. In fact, they fell short by exactly fifty percent. George,
starting at the top of his head, blossomed rapidly into being down to
the waist and there, quite devoid of his lower quarters, stopped. In
effect, no sooner did the congressman speak of half a man than the
order was filled to exact specifications. The congressman not only
stopped speaking, but stopped breathing as well.
* * * * *
A nervous hush fell over the courtroom, for by now several others had
begun to notice the half-portion George and were just as reticent to
mention the matter as either the congressman or the judge. The judge
clutched grimly to the bench for support and forced himself to look
away. He laughed a dry, cackling laugh.
"Well, well," he said with feeble heartiness, "we mustn't fall into a
reverie, must we? You haven't half--I mean you haven't really begun to
tell me about these slurs against you, congressman."
There was something markedly distraught in the congressman's expression
as he turned back to the bench. He fiddled with his tie, reached into
his pocket, took something out and began to finger it nervously. It was
Toffee's gadget.
"Well," he babbled. "I was only saying that anyone with half--I mean
any mind at all would be able to see ... uh ... see...."
As he spoke, the congressman turned the gadget absently in his hand. It
was on the fifth turn, when it was pointing directly at the judge, that
his finger inadvertently snagged against the button and shoved it to
one side. Instantly, as though the judge had never been there at all,
the bench was starkly and dramatically deserted, with only the gavel
left to mark its recent occupancy. The congressman gaped unbelievingly,
shook his head, closed his eyes, then opened them again. The judge was
still absent.
The congressman turned to the others and found himself and the bench
the focal points for a sea of shocked eyes. He shuddered, pressed the
gadget self-consciously in a fit of nerves. The button snapped in the
opposite direction. In the next instant there was a shrill scream from
the faded blonde.
Those in court turned in unison to find that the judge, just as
suddenly as he had departed, had reappeared. This time, however, he
was comfortably ensconced in the lap of the distraught blonde. In a
courtroom where many odd things had recently taken place, it was the
general concensus that when the judge of that court sneaks from the
bench, creeps up on the nearest blonde and hurls himself into her lap,
some sort of climax has been reached. A murmur of indignation rose
through the room.
The blonde, for her part, agreed with the concensus, but did not stop
at an indignant protest. Doubling up her fist she belted the judge a
nasty blow in the eye.
"You mangey old goat!" she shrieked.
The congressman, by now in a veritable frenzy of nervousness, pressed
the button again. This time it was Toffee who disappeared. The murmur
in the court became still more disturbed. The congressman twiddled the
button in the opposite direction.
Miraculously, Toffee appeared behind the bench in the judge's position.
She picked up the gavel and banged for attention.
"The court will come to order!" she shrilled happily. "Knock it off,
everybody!"
* * * * *
A new kind of hush fell over the room. The congressman, slack-mouthed,
looked up at Toffee with the fearful look of a man who has finally
been backed to the wall on the question of his own sanity. The judge,
nursing a blow on the left ear as another was being addressed to the
right, looked up in horror.
"Here!" he yelled. "Get off that bench!"
"Get off that blonde!" Toffee shot back. "You ought to be ashamed of
yourself." She whirled about on the trembling congressman. "As for you,
you big fat traitor, I want a clean confession and no nonsense."
"I don't have to talk to you," the congressman said uncertainly. "You
can't make me say anything."
"Maybe not," Toffee said, "but what about your conscience?"
"Conscience?" the congressman said uncertainly.
"The term is unfamiliar to you?" Toffee said. "I'm not surprised. Let
me try to explain it to you. A guilty conscience can play awful tricks
on people." She eyed the congressman closely. "It can even make you
think you're seeing things, for instance."
The congressman's eyes widened with an awful fear. "See--see things?"
he quavered. "What kind of things do you mean?"
"Well," Toffee said reflectively, "say a man is responsible for another
man's murder. If his conscience gets ahold of him he may begin to see
that man as still alive. He may even see two such men, just alike. In
really bad cases the subject is likely to imagine one of the men in a
state of mutilation, say cut in half. Of course, that's pretty extreme."
The congressman glanced compulsively in George's direction and turned
ashen. George, still at half mast, stared back at him with fixed
blankness. The congressman groaned.
"Then there's the very worst sort of conscience," Toffee went on.
"That's when everything gets mixed up. Through a close study of
recorded cases, we find that the first attack commonly occurs when the
criminal is confronted with his crimes, usually publicly, as in a
court of law."
"H--how do you mean?" the congressman whispered. "Whu--what happens?"
"Well, everything begins to appear to be just the opposite of what it
really is. There is a famous English case in which the victim was so
far gone that he actually believed that the magistrate on the bench
had become a beautiful girl. He described the illusion, I believe, as
a gorgeous redhead with an exquisite figure and legs too perfect to be
true." Toffee laughed gaily. "Can you imagine anyone getting themselves
looped up to that extent?"
The congressman forced a laugh that had all the light-hearted
spontaneity of a coffin lid being pried up at midnight. "That boy was
really gone, wasn't he--your honor?"
"Call me Ralph, old man," Toffee said.
"Of course, Ralph, old boy," the congressman said, blinking.
* * * * *
Experimatically, Toffee opened a drawer under the bench and withdrew a
large black cigar. Inserting this into her month, she leaned forward
toward the congressman. "Gotta light, friend?" she enquired.
The congressman started back sharply at this new incongruity. It was a
moment before he recovered.
"Sure," he said, taking out a lighter and waggling it beneath the
cigar. "Sure thing."
Taking a healthy puff on the cigar, Toffee leaned back luxuriously and
blew out a cloud of smoke. "What say we adjourn?" she suggested. "We
can slip around to the club and cut up a few touches with the boys."
"Well, all right," the congressman said, attempting a wan smile.
"But...."