"It wasn't there at first," Lafayette insisted. "Too bad I don't have a witness—"
"What about Daphne?" Sprawnroyal suggested. "You said she was with you."
"But I don't know where she is, Roy," O'Leary moaned. "I've been trying to pick up some trace of her, but it's no use. For a minute or two, I thought this Henriette was Daph, but she betrayed me, just lured me there to her place to turn me over to Frumpkin here." O'Leary prodded the black-clad leg of the red-nosed but still haughty Frumpkin, who responded with a cold smile.
"But, don't you understand, poor fool, the wench was indeed this Daphne of yours. But when I explained to her the consequences that would result if you were allowed to run loose any longer, she at once fell in with my plan."
"Prolly done it just to save you from something worst," Roy suggested sympathetically. "And maybe he tortured her—you can't expect a female to stand up to no PPS, even if she is over five foot high."
Lafayette groaned, "If even Daphne's against me, what's the use of going on?"
"Precisely, Lafayette," Frumpkin seconded eagerly. "Just relax now and let events take their course—and I'll still cut you in for a share."
"Maybe you oughta talk to the kid first before you go condemning her out of hand, like," Roy suggested.
"Sure, but how?" O'Leary returned. "She's not here. I should have brought her along, but I was pretty busy with Frumpkin here."
"Sure, Slim, nobody could fault you," Roy agreed. "But we could find her—or give it a try, anyways."
O'Leary turned to the little man gratefully. "Then you'll help me, Roy? With your Ajax gear we can get something done. Come on. Let's get started. We can truss Frumpkin up and leave Casper and Rugadoon to watch him."
"Sure." Roy gave quick instructions to his two helpers, who bustled off to procure ropes.
"Now," Roy said gravely, "we gotta figure our next move. How do we get back to Aphasia?"
"Easy," O'Leary assured him. "The room where I left her is just on the other side of the wall here. So—we use the flat-walker again and go back."
"Slim," Roy said, wagging his head heavily. "I guess I never tole you, but tryna use a one-man unit to merge two guys is risky. Fact is," he went on, turning to look at Frumpkin, still hunkered down on his haunches, watching blankly as Casper came back with a coil of fine white line, "... fact is, I'm surprised you got away with it that once without leaving old Skin's innards strung out in half-phase."
"Can't you rustle up another one?" Lafayette asked.
"That ain't too easy," Roy told him. "We had our problems here at Ajax too, Slim. This here troublemaker"—he jerked a thumb at Frumpkin—"has put a crimp in operations. We managed to trace the interference to him before our energy tap was cut."
"He cut your energy tap?" O'Leary echoed in alarm. "That means you're out of business, for all practical purposes, according to what Flimbert told me about how you manage all your tricks."
"Bert always did have too big of a mouth," Roy said. "Anyways, you see how it is. Fact is," he added, "the only thing we can do, is I take the flat-walker and see what I can do on my own."
"Nonsense," O'Leary came back at once. "If only one of us can go, it'll be me. After all, Daphne's my wife."
"Sure," Sprawnroyal concurred, "and the whole future of Ajax is riding on us now, Slim—or on me, rather. I got to take some prompt and effective action, or all Melange will revert to unrealized status, and b'lieve me, Slim, that'll be a poor way to go."
"Struggle as you will, poor fools," Frumpkin contributed with a note of triumph, "you and your petty entropic level are doomed. The wheels I have set in motion cannot now be stopped, short of a cataclysm which will destroy the Prime Postulate itself."
"Ignore him, Roy," O'Leary advised his old comrade. "He's cracked."
Roy nodded. "Sure he is. But unfortunately, Slim, the data we recorded before everything shut down confirms what he's saying. Still, you might as well go on and try to see Daph one last time. S'long, kid." Roy thrust out his hard square hand. "We had a few kicks together, din't we? Good luck—and you better try the same spot, so's to catch the aura of temporarily enhanced permeability before it fades. Only lasts about ten minutes."
"I've been here nearly that long already," O'Leary said hastily. "And don't look so glum, Roy. Things have looked bad before, and we got out of it somehow."
"Do good, Slim," Roy urged solemnly. "Looks like you're the only chance we got. Make it count."
O'Leary nodded and stepped to the wall to stand facing it, the flat-walker in his hand.
"Little to the left, Slim," Roy advised from behind him. Lafayette nodded and stepped forward.
He felt the momentary resistance of the masonry, then thrust impatiently forward, ignoring the display of darting points of light which moved together and coalesced into a uniform dim grayness. Lafayette looked quickly toward the central panel; Frumpkin was nowhere near it. He went over, looked at the safety-locked knife-switch the Man in Black had been about to throw the last time he was here. O'Leary looked around carefully for the first time, saw nothing but an immense room like the deserted lobby of an out-of-date hotel, its walls dim with distance through the grayish air. A blinking light on the panel caught his eye. It was one of a row of amber, blue, and white indicators, directly beneath which were tiny dials. They were cryptically marked: MAYHAP, CINCH, GET READY, THIS IS IT, FORGET IT. The one under the flashing amber lens read LET'S FACE IT.
"Good idea," Lafayette said aloud. "I'm wasting time. I need to get out of wherever I am, and back to work." He started forward, met resistance, pushed harder, and was abruptly clear, standing in another dim light looking at the dangling skeleton. He turned at a clanking sound to his right to see Duke Bother-Be-Damned coming toward him.
"What—where's the scoundrel got to?" Bother demanded. "My eyes play tricks on me. It almost seemed you were gone for an instant, lad. But as I started forward to search for a hidden panel, here you are. But where is the wretch Frumpkin?"
"Take it easy, Bother," O'Leary suggested. "He's in good hands, under guard. Excuse me; I have to find Daphne—I mean Lady Henriette." He strode past the man in armor and went to the open doorway through which Her Ladyship had disappeared. His eyes strayed en passant to the hardwood wall cabinet beside the dark opening. On impulse, he paused to open the door. There, amid dust curls and spider webs, was the tall, old-fashioned black dial telephone which linked the lab to Central. O'Leary hesitated, then lifted the receiver and put it to his ear. A feeble dial tone sounded. He frowned, wondering if he could remember the ten-digit number after so long a time ... He dialed: nine five three four nine zero zero two one one, and waited, not even breathing. Then he heard the tinny rattle of the ring signal. Bawp—bawp ... bawp-click, rattle.
"Central," a tired-sounding voice said.
"Uh," O'Leary said, "Central—this is an emergency! I'm Sir Lafayette O'Leary, part-time agent, and I'm calling from a locus known as Aphasia. We've got big trouble here. A nut-case named Frumpkin from some far-out plane claims to be reshaping all Greater Reality, and he doesn't care what he runs over in the process. I need help to interrogate him and find out what we can do to save what's left, if anything. Artesia's gone, and so is Aphasia I by now; and Melange is in deep trouble—even Ajax doesn't have any ideas—so get somebody in here fast to straighten things out!"
"Please note," a tinny voice said, "that this line is for limited official use only. Please cite your priority and classification code."
"No time," O'Leary cut in briskly. "Listen: This is an emergency! The world—several of them—is, or are, coming to an end! We have to do something!"