Part 32 (1/2)

”Is he in?”

”Ya.s.suh.”

”Tell him member seven-oh-nine is here, with the recruit.”

”Ya.s.suh, boss!” said the man. He tapped the _tambourine_, turned and walked out the doorway.

Within moments he was back.

”Dis yere way.”

Kinkaid and Biddle accompanied the man up a long, narrow flight of stairs to a small red door and there they stopped. The man with the black face pressed a b.u.t.ton.

From an overhead speaker a voice called: ”Why does the fireman wear red suspenders?”

”To keep his pants up,” said the _tambourine_ man, flipping a toggle.

”So make the scene.”

There was a sharp buzzing sound. The door swung open. Kinkaid and Biddle followed their guide in.

Instinctively, Kinkaid gasped and clutched at Biddle for support. His first impression had been that the room was upside down. He closed his eyes. Slowly, he opened them. The impression remained.

Biddle made a peculiar noise in his throat. ”Don't be alarmed,” he said. ”This is known as a gag.”

”A gag?” Kinkaid stared up at what could only be the floor. He saw a couch, a chair, a table, and even a small sleeping dog.

”Exactly. It will be explained.” Biddle marched across the ceiling, from which sprouted a long chain topped by an antique light bulb. ”Come along.”

Taking care to look straight ahead, Kinkaid made his way forward. His employer pressed a second b.u.t.ton and a panel slid back, exposing a second room.

It was hardly a comfort.

Here there were mirrors, stationed along the four walls. As Kinkaid pa.s.sed them, he saw himself turn fat, slim, big-headed, pin-headed, three-faced, and invisible.

”Deposit the can t.i.therwards, ofay,” said the man know as Mister Bones, gesturing.

”How's that?” Kinkaid looked at the chair which had been pulled up. ”Oh.” He sat down. As he sank into the frayed brown cus.h.i.+on, there was a loud, embarra.s.sing noise.

”Yak, yak!” said Mister Bones.

Kinkaid rose, unsteadily. ”I think,” he said, ”that I'd better go.”

”Too late,” said Biddle.

”_Boo!_”

Kinkaid jumped backward, colliding with a large desk. When equilibrium returned, he foundhimself staring at a figure alongside which the man with the black face seemed absolutely humdrum. This figure reflected a hundred times throughout the room, wore a golden mask and a skin-tight suit of many colors, each color in the shape of a diamond, each diamond a different hue from the other. The figure approached, and as it did so, the tiny bells attached to its ankles and to its wrists and to its high-peaked cap tinkled wildly.

”What goes up the chimney down but not down the chimney up?”

”I don't understand the question,” said Kinkaid. ”Would you repeat it?”

”No,” said the belled figure. Pointing the stick at Biddle: ”Tell him.”

”An umbrella,” said Biddle.

The man with the black face slapped his knees. Peculiar noises issued from his throat. They were, Kinkaid thought, like the noises of the Laff-Tracks on TV; but also not like them.

”Mister Bones,” said the belled figure, ”it's toodle-oosville, _s'il vous plait_.”

The man with the black face tapped his _tambourine_, turned and walked headlong into the wall.

Again Kinkaid felt the strange constriction in his chest. The ends of his mouth curled upwards as the man crashed to the floor, rolled, picked himself up and staggered through the doorway.

”I don't know, Biddle,” said the harlequin figure. Kinkaid could feel hot eyes staring upon him from behind the golden mask. ”I'm very dubious.”

”He smiled,” said Biddle, frowning.

”Yes, but that was a yok. We've got to be _so_ careful.”

”Of course. I know that. That's why I waited to be sure.” Biddle put his arm around Kinkaid's shoulder. ”Understand, he's a beginner. And he _was_ amused by the trick cigar.”

The bells tinkled. ”_Was_ he?”

”He very nearly laughed.”

”Well!” Silence. Then, once more, the bells; louder; much louder. The figure reached across the desk. ”Good to meet up with ya, podnuh!”

Hesitantly, Kinkaid accepted the hand. There was a loud buzz, followed by a painful tickling sensation on his palm. He jerked away.

The Laff-Track noise again, from Biddle's throat. Listening, Kinkaid was hardly aware of the lava-hot ball gathering and expanding inside him. When it burst, he was as surprised as the others. ”That's it!” he shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk. ”I don't know what the h.e.l.l all of this is about, but I know one thing--I don't want any part of it. You hear? You people--you're psycho! You know that?

Psycho!”

He strode angrily to the door.

It was locked.

”You see!” said Biddle. ”Emotion.”

”Yes,” said the belled figure. ”That's encouraging, though far from conclusive.” He gestured.

”Mister Kinkaid, please calm yourself. This is all quite necessary.”

”For what?”

”Members.h.i.+p. Do sit down, but take care to remove the Whoopee-Cus.h.i.+on. Now. I gather Mister Biddle has told you nothing.”

”That's right,” said Kinkaid, still annoyed.