There was a taproom just this side of the nearest delicatessen. Randall decided to stop for one on draught before returning. Presently he found himself explaining to the proprietor just why the reform amalgamation would never turn out the city machine.
He recalled, as he left the place, his original intention. When he got back to their apartment, laden with beer and assorted cold cuts, Cynthia was up and making domestic noises in the kitchen. “Hi, babe!”
“Teddy!”
He kissed her before he put down the packages. “Were you scared when you woke up and found me gone?”
“Not really. But I would rather you had left a note. What have you got there?”
“Suds and cold cuts. Like?”
“Swell. I didn’t want to go out for dinner and I was trying to see what I could stir up. But I hadn’t any meat in the house.” She took them from him.
“Anybody call?”
“Huh-uh. I called the exchange when I woke up. Nothing of interest. But the mirror came.”
“Mirror?”
“Don’t play innocent. It was a nice surprise, Teddy. Come see how it dresses up the bedroom.”
“Let’s get this straight,” he said. “I don’t know anything about a mirror.”
She paused, puzzled. “I thought you bought it for me for a surprise. It came prepaid.”
“Whom was it addressed to; you or me?”
“I didn’t pay much attention; I was half asleep. I just signed something and they unpacked it and hung it for me.”
It was a very handsome piece of glass, beveled plate, without a frame, and quite large. Randall conceded that it did things for her dressing table. “If you want a glass like that, honey, I’ll get one for you. But this isn’t ours. I suppose I’d better call up somebody and tell ’em to take it back. Where’s the tag?”
“They took it off, I think. Anyhow it’s after six o’clock.”
He grinned at her indulgently. “You like it, don’t you? Well, it looks like it’s yours for tonight-and tomorrow I’ll see about getting you another.”
It was a beautiful mirror; the silvering was well-nigh perfect and the glass was air-clear. She felt as if she could push her hand through it.
He went to sleep, when they turned in, a little more readily than she did-the nap, no doubt. She rested on one elbow and looked at him for a long time after his breathing had become regular. Sweet Teddy! He was a good boy-good to her certainly. Tomorrow she would tell him not to bother about the other mirror-she didn’t need it. All she really wanted was to be with him, for nothing ever to separate them. Things did not matter; just being together was the only thing that really mattered.
She glanced at the mirror. It certainly was handsome. So beautifully clear-like an open window. She felt as if she could climb through it, like Alice Through the Looking Glass.
He awoke when his name was called. “Up out of there, Randall! You’re late!”
It wasn’t Cynthia; that was sure. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and managed to focus them. “Wha’s up?”
“You,” said Phipps, leaning out through the beveled glass. “Get a move on! Don’t keep us waiting.”
Instinctively he looked toward the other pillow. Cynthia was gone.
Gone! Then he was up out of bed at once, wide awake, and trying frantically to search everywhere at once. Not in the bathroom. “Cyn!” Not in the living room, not in the kitchen-breakfast room. “Cyn! Cynthia! Where are you?” He pawed frantically in each of the closets. “Cyn!”
He returned to the bedroom and stood there, not knowing where to look next-a tragic, barefooted figure in rumpled pajamas and tousled hair.
Phipps put one hand on the lower edge of the mirror and vaulted easily into the room. “This room should have had a place to install a full-length mirror,” he remarked curtly as he settled his coat and straightened his tie. “Every room should have a full-length mirror. Presently we will require it-I shall see to it.”
Randall focused his eyes on him as if seeing him for the first time. “Where is she?” he demanded. “What have you done with her?” He stepped toward Phipps menacingly.