“The game is being played. Therefore, we cannot permit you to interfere with your client, nor to assist him in any way. You see that, don’t you?”
“I don’t see,” shouted Randall, suddenly able to speak, “a damn thing! To hell with the bunch of you! This joke has gone far enough.”
“Silly and weak and stupid,” Stoles sighed. “Show him, Mr. Phipps.”
Phipps got up, placed a brief case on the table, opened it, and drew something from it, which he shoved under Randall’s nose — a mirror.
“Please look this way, Mr. Randall,” he said politely.
Randall looked at himself in the mirror.
“What are you thinking of, Mr. Randall?”
The image faded, he found himself staring into his own bedroom, as if from a slight height. The room was dark, but he could plainly see his wife’s head on her pillow. His own pillow was vacant.
She stirred, and half turned over, sighing softly. Her lips were parted a trifle and smiling faintly, as if what she dreamed were pleasant.
“See, Mr. Randall?” said Stoles. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, now, would you?”
“Why, you dirty, low-down — ”
“Softly, Mr. Randall, softly. And that will be enough from you. Remember your own interests — and hers.” Stoles turned away from him. “Remove him, Mr. Phipps.”
“Come, Mr. Randall.” He felt again that undignified shove from behind, then he was flying through the air with the scene tumbling to pieces around him.
He was wide-awake in his own bed, flat on his back and covered with cold sweat.
Cynthia sat up. “What’s the matter, Teddy?” she said sleepily. “I heard you cry out.”
“Nothing. Bad dream, I guess. Sorry I woke you.”
“‘S all right. Stomach upset?”
“A little, maybe.”
“Take some bicarb.”
“I will.” He got up, went to the kitchen and fixed himself a small dose. His mouth was a little sour, he realized, now that he was awake; the soda helped matters.
Cynthia was already asleep when he got back; he slid into bed quietly. She snuggled up to him without waking, her body warming his. Quickly he was asleep, too.
“‘Never mind trouble! Fiddle-de-dee!’ ” He broke off singing suddenly, turned the shower down sufficiently to permit ordinary conversation, and said, “Good morning, beautiful!”
Cynthia was standing in the door of the bathroom, rubbing one eye and looking blearily at him with the other. “People who sing before breakfast — good morning.”
“Why shouldn’t I sing? It’s a beautiful day and I’ve had a beautiful sleep. I’ve got a new shower song. Listen.”
“Don’t bother.”
“This is a song,” he continued, unperturbed, “dedicated to a Young Man Who Has Announced His Intention of Going Out into the Garden to Eat Worms.”
“Teddy, you’re nasty.”
“No, I’m not. Listen.” He turned the shower on more fully. “You have to have the water running to get the full effect,” he explained. “First verse:
“I don’t think I’ll go out in the garden;
I’ll make the worms come in to me!
If I have to be miser’ble,
I might as well be so comfort’bly!”
He paused for effect. “Chorus,” he announced.
“Never mind trouble! Fiddle-de-dee!
Eat your worms with Vitamin B!
Follow this rule and you will be
Still eating worms at a hundred ‘n’ three!”
He paused again. “Second verse,” he stated. “Only I haven’t thought up a second verse yet. Shall I repeat the first verse?”
“No, thanks. Just duck out of that shower and give me a chance at it.”
“You don’t like it,” he accused her.
“I didn’t say I didn’t.”
“Art is rarely appreciated,” he mourned. But he got out.
He had the coffee and the orange juice waiting by the time she appeared in the kitchen. He handed her a glass of the fruit juice. “Teddy, you’re a darling. What do you want in exchange for all this coddling?”
“You. But not now. I’m not only sweet, I’m brainy.”
“So?”
“Uh-huh. Look — I’ve figured out what to do with friend Hoag.”
“Hoag? Oh, dear!”
“Look out — you’ll spill it!” He took the glass from her and set it down. “Don’t be silly, babe. What’s gotten into you?”