Part 6

The judge leaned across the bench, plainly scandalized. "The congressman!" he gasped. "Why Congressman Entwerp was a classmate of mine!"

"Yes, your honor. And he's threatened suit against this fellow for slander."

"Good," the judge said. "Have this Pillsworth or whoever he is brought before the bench. Obviously, he's a low criminal type. It sticks out all over him."

The cop nodded and turned in Marc's direction. "You," he said. "The judge will hear you."

Across the room, however, Marc gave no sign of hearing. Instead, he was gazing intently at the vacant chair next to his own. On his face was an expression of anxious annoyance.

"Now, look, George," he said, "You owe it to humanity to show yourself and help get this mess cleared up. Why not be a good loser for a change?"

The empty chair shifted, just perceptibly, with an air of complacency.

"Maybe they'll hang you," George replied hopefully from thin air.

"Don't be silly," Marc said. "There's no reason why they should. Come on, now, be a good fellow and help get this over with."

"Oh, I'm going to help get it over with," George said pleasantly. "When I'm through, they'll lower the boom on you so hard you'll be the first man in history to be buried in an envelope."

Just then Toffee leaned forward and touched Marc's arm. "The judge wants to speak to you," she said. "Come on, let's go."

Marc glanced around. "Did he call you too?"

"Well, no," Toffee admitted, "but I'm an interested party. I want to see that you get fair treatment."

"Couldn't you just stay out of it?" Marc pleaded. "Couldn't I just handle this myself?"

"Nonsense," Toffee said. "You need me. Come on, the old gaffer's beginning to look apoplectic again."

"Oh, all right," Marc sighed. Getting up he followed Toffee to a position before the bench. The judge glowered down at them critically.

"So glad you finally found you could come," he said.

"Thank you," Toffee beamed. "It's nice of you to have us."

The gavel barked irritably. There was silence until the judge's eyebrows ceased to twitch.

"What are you doing here?" the judge enquired with forced composure. "Who called you forward?"

"Lots of people have called me forward," Toffee said, "but that's just talk, judge. I'm just impulsive."

"Silence!" the judge said. "Good God, girl, no one asked you for any sordid confessions. I just want to know what you're doing here?"

Toffee nodded toward Marc. "I'm with him," she said.

"Then he's the man who was with you in the green sedan?"

"Oh, no." Toffee shook her head. "He's the other one."

The judge blanched. "The other one?" he asked apprehensively.

Toffee nodded. "They're exactly alike. Only this one is nicer. That's why I switched."

The judge raised his gavel warningly, and turned to Marc. "Are you twins, sir?"

Marc opened his mouth to speak, but before he could George's voice sounded immediately behind him.

"Do I look like twins, you thick-headed joker?" the voice asked. "And if you must drink in the morning, for Godsake lay off the cheap stuff so you don't see double. I always heard justice was blind but I didn't know it was blind drunk."

* * * * *

There was an ominous silence in the court as the judge raked Marc with a glance of pure loathing. "Are you deliberately in contempt of court?" he asked.

Again Marc started to speak and again the voice beat him to it. "In it?" it said. "I'm fairly swimming in high octane contempt."

The blonde who had been watching these proceedings with growing agitation suddenly sprang from her chair. "That's him!" she yelled hysterically. "I'm positive!"

"Be quiet, you!" the judge barked. "I've had enough out of you!"

"But he pinched me!" the blonde cried.

"You're lucky that's all he did," the judge snapped.

"But you don't know where!"

The judge eyed her distantly. "With that lumpy figure of yours," he said, "it could scarcely matter. Now, shut up." He turned back to Marc. "I understand you've been making libelous remarks against Congressman Entwerp."

Marc looked around hopelessly, afraid to open his mouth lest George would take over again. He compressed his lips into a thin line.

"Speak up, man!"

Marc looked up unhappily. "I--I--," he murmured fearfully.

"What's the matter with you?" the judge asked. "Let's hear your accusations against my good friend the congressman."

"The congressman?" Marc ventured, then brightened as he noticed there was no interference from George. "Oh, yes. The congressman must be imprisoned at once, your honor. He's a national menace. He instigated a propaganda program to dope the public against the threat of the foreign powers. But worst of all, he has enough bacteria culture to murder the entire population."

"And what's more," Toffee broke in, "he pinched my gadget."

The judge's eyes swiveled about hauntedly. "He _what_?"

"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...."

Toffee took the cigar from her mouth and leaned forward. "Yes, old man?"

"About these cases," the congressman said. "That fellow in England...."

"Oh, the one who thought the magistrate was a beautiful girl? It's hard to believe, of course, but you must remember it was an extreme case. The most severe ever recorded, I believe. The funeral was only a formality, of course, since there wasn't even a scrap of him recovered. Exploded, you know."

"Exploded!"

"That's right. The only thing of its kind in medical history. Poor devil went right off. With a great whopping roar, they said. The doctors said it was caused by repressed emotion."

"Oh, Mona!" the congressman groaned.

"Didn't mean to upset you, old friend," Toffee said. "It's an unpleasant thing to talk about."

"But couldn't they have saved him?" the congressman asked. "Suppose they had gotten him to a psychiatrist or something before it happened?"

"Actually it was much simpler than that," Toffee said ponderously. "The fellow could have saved himself merely by confessing. Confession, you know, is the only thing for a bad conscience. Highly recommended by all the best authorities. Those church people are doing it all the time--can't stop church people from confessing--and you never heard of one of them exploding, did you?"

"That's right," the congressman said hopefully. His gaze travelled out the window, a clouded look of inner turmoil on his face.

"It was just one of those things," Toffee put in. "One minute this chap was standing there in court just as hail and hearty as beans and the next--boom!--and the spectators were whisking him off their coat sleeves and passing round the cleaning fluid!"

The congressman whirled about in a convulsion of anguish. "I confess!" he blurted. "I confess _everything_!"

"Not everything," Toffee said. "Leave the racy personal stuff for another time."

The congressman reached out the gadget and dropped it on the bench. Toffee picked it up as he followed that contribution with a key.

"There's the key to the storeroom," the congressman said, "and the one to the private files. And here's a list of the members of the organization." He started as Rooney stepped forward and took him by the arm.

"Take him away," Toffee said blithely. "Find him a cell with lots of padding. And take his body-guard too."

* * * * *

As the congressman and the thug disappeared in the custody of Rooney, Toffee mashed out her cigar, quitted the bench and proceeded across the court where the blonde was still throttling the judge.

"Better let him up, honey," she advised gently. "He's turning a very nasty blue."