“She buys new dresses every morn,

“But never shops for pants!”



Jill giggled and sqirmed. “Did you tune her in?”

“Yes, and she gave me a big Bronx cheer—with a kiss behind it for Ben. Say, isn’t there anybody in the kitchen this morning? I just remembered I haven’t eaten for a couple of days. Or years, maybe; I’m not sure.”

“I think Ruth is,” Ben said, untangling himself and standing up “I’ll go see.”

“Duke can do it. Hey, Duke! See if you can find somebody who’ll fix me a stack of wheat cakes as tall as you are and a gallon of maple syrup.”

“Right, Mike!” Duke called back.

Ben Caxton hesitated, without an excuse to run an errand. He thought of a trumped-up excuse and glanced back over his shoulder—

“Jubal,” Caxton said earnestly, “I wouldn’t tell you this part at all . . . if it weren’t essential to explaining how I feel about the whole thing, why I’m worried about them—all of them, Duke and Mike as well as Jill . . . and Mike’s other victims, too. By that morning I was myself half conned into thinking everything was all right—weird as hell in spots, but jolly. Mike himself had me fascinated, too—his new personality is pretty powerful. Cocky and too much supersalesman . . . but very compelling. Then he—or both of them—got me rather embarrassed, so I took that chance to get up from the couch.

“Then I glanced back—and couldn’t believe my eyes. I hadn’t been turned away five seconds . . . and Mike had managed to get rid of every stitch of clothes . . . and so help me, they were going to it, with myself and three or four others in the room at the time—just as boldly as monkeys in a zoo!

“Jubal, I was so shocked I almost lost my breakfast.”



33

“Well,” said Jubal, “what did you do? Cheer?”

“Like hell. I left, at once. I dashed for the outer door, grabbed my clothes and shoes—forgot my bag and didn’t go back for it—ignored the sign on the door, went on through—jumped in that bounce tube with my clothes in my arms. Blooie! Gone without saying good-by.”

“Rather abrupt.”

“I felt abrupt. I had to leave. In fact I left so fast that I durn near killed myself. You know the ordinary bounce tube—”

“I do not.”

“Well, unless you set it to take you up to a certain level, when you get into it you simply sink slowly, like cold molasses. I didn’t sink, I fell—and I was about six stories up. But just when I thought I had made my last mistake, something caught me. Not a safety net—a field of some sort. I didn’t quite splash. But Mike needs to smooth out that gadget. Or put in the regular sort of bounce tube.”

Jubal said, “I’ll stick to stairs and, when unavoidable, elevators.”

“Well, I hadn’t realized that this one was so risky. But the only safety inspector they’ve got is Duke . . . and to Duke whatever Mike says is Gospel. Jubal, that whole place is riding for a fall. They’re all hypnotized by one man . . . who isn’t right in his head. What can be done about it?”

Jubal jutted out his lips and then scowled. “Let’s see first if you’ve got it analyzed correctly. Just what aspects of the situation did you find disquieting?”

“Why . . . the whole thing!”

“So? In fact, wasn’t it just one thing? And that an essentially harmless act which we both know was nothing new . . . but was, we can assume rather conclusively, initially performed in this house or on these grounds about two years ago? I did not then object—nor did you, when you learned of it, whenever that was. In fact, I have implied that you yourself have, on other occasions, joined in that same act with the same young lady—and she is a lady, despite your tale—and you neither denied my implication nor acted offended at my presumption. To put it bluntly, son—what are you belly-aching about?”

“Well, for cripe’s sake, Jubal—would you put up with it, in your living room?”

“Decidedly not—unless perhaps I have, it having taken place so clandestinely, at night perhaps, that no one noticed. In which case it would be—or has been, if such be the case—no skin off ’n my nose. But the point is that it was not my living room . . . nor would I presume to lay down rules for another man’s living room. It was Mike’s house . . . and his wife—common law or otherwise, we need not inquire. So what business is it of mine? Or yours? You go into a man’s house, you accept his household rules—that’s a universal law of civilized behavior.”