“But I was only in there two months. And the girls—?”
“Still single. Both of them.”
Michael’s face turned paper white and he nibbled at his lips. “You mean they’re both on the loose and you’ve released me? Oh, Peter, you incorrigible bungler! You—”
“Worse than that,” Martlett interrupted. “They’re both on their way here right now. They’ve decided to marry me, as long as you weren’t available. They’ll be here in—” he consulted his watch—“about four minutes, unless they happen to arrive early.”
Michael was galvanized suddenly into frantic exertion. “Quick, then! I’ve got to leave here! If they ever find me alive they’ll rip me to shreds!”
The butler suddenly rolled into the living room. It darted a confused glance from one Martlett brother to the other, and, its gears meshing and clanking in bewilderment, it announced, “Two ladies have just arrived to see Mr. Martlett.”
“Tell them I’m not home!” Martlett and his brother shouted simultaneously.
“They insist on entering,” the robot said.
Michael clutched at his brother’s sleeve in panic. “What will we do?”
The outer doors were opening. The sound of agitated feminine conversation was audible outside. “Don’t let them in,” Michael ordered the butler. But the shock of seeing duplicate masters had put the robot out of commission; it drooled quietly to itself without obeying.
Martlett said in a voice heavy with defeat, “I guess we’ll have to marry them, I suppose. Explain things first—we’ll say you miraculously popped back into the continuum—and then marry them. We can’t escape, Michael. And we could do worse for women, you know.”
The voices were coming closer. “I guess you’re right,” Michael said. Lines of strain showed on his boyish face. “But—good grief, Peter!—who marries which one?”
Martlett shrugged. “Does it matter? I suppose we can toss for it.”
Sounds reached them: “Peter, darling, are you in there?” And “Who is this horrible woman, Peter?”
Peter looked at his brother. It was the first time he had ever seen Michael actually quaking with fear. “Stiff upper lip, boy,” he muttered. “It shouldn’t be so bad once you’ve explained.”
“You explain,” Michael said. “I don’t dare.”
“You’d better dare,” Peter retorted. “You got us into this in the first place. You and your private Deserializer.”
And there was no getting out, he thought, looking toward the door through which the girls were about to burst. They were trapped for fair. Might as well make the best of it.
Shoulder to shoulder, the Martlett brothers stood their ground and waited resignedly for the enemy to storm the battlements.