"Mid-brain? What's that doing here?"
"Why, that's for getting at your That must be there by mistake"
Little lines tightened around the queer hazel eyes. "Yeah?" He remembered the look Dunbar had given him, and Dunbar's general reputation. "Say, could I use your phone a minute?"
"Why I suppose what do you want to phone for?"
"I want to call my lawyer. Any objections?"
"No, of course not. But there isn't any phone here."
"What do you call that?" The gnarly man got up and walked toward the instrument in plain sight on a table. But Mahler was there before him, standing in front of it.
"This one doesn't work. It's being fixed."
"Can't I try it?"
"No, not till it's fixed. It doesn't work, I tell you."
The gnarly man studied the young physician for a few seconds. "Okay, then I'll find one that does." He started for the door.
"Hey, you can't go out now!" cried Mahler.
"Can't I? Just watch me!"
"Hey!" It was a full-throated yell. Like magic more men in white coats appeared.
Behind them was the great surgeon. "Be reasonable, Mr. Gaffney," he said. "There's no reason why you should go out now, you know. We'll be ready for you in a little while."
"Any reason why I shouldn't?" The gnarly man's big face swung on his thick neck, and his hazel eyes swiveled. All the exits were blocked. "I'm going."
"Grab him!" said Dunbar.
The white coats moved. The gnarly man got his hands on the back of a chair. The chair whirled, and became a dissolving blur as the men closed on him. Pieces of chair flew about the room, to fall with the dry, sharp ping of short lengths of wood. When the gnarly man stopped swinging, having only a short piece of the chair back left in each fist, one assistant was out cold. Another leaned whitely against the wall and nursed a broken arm.
"Go on!" shouted Dunbar when he could make himself heard. The white wave closed over the gnarly man, then broke. The gnarly man was on his feet, and held young Mahler by the ankles. He spread his feet and swung the shrieking Mahler like a club, clearing the way to the door. He turned, whirled Mahler around his head like a hammer thrower, and let the now mercifully unconscious body fly. His assailants went down in a yammering tangle.
One was still up. Under Dunbar's urging he sprang after the gnarly man. The latter had gotten his stick out of the umbrella stand in the vestibule. The knobby upper end went whoosh past the assistant's nose. The assistant jumped back and fell over one of the casualties. The front door slammed, and there was a deep roar of "Taxi!"
"Come on!" shrieked Dunbar. "Get the ambulance out!"
James Robinette was sitting in his office, thinking the thoughts that lawyers do in moments of relaxation, when there was a pounding of large feet in the corridor, a startled protest from Miss Spevak in the outer office, and the strange client of the day before was at Robinette's desk, breathing hard.
"I'm Gaffney," he growled between gasps. "Remember me? I think they followed me down here. They'll be up any minute. I want your help."
"They? Who's they?" Robinette winced at the impact of that damn perfume.
The gnarly man launched into his misfortunes, He was going well when there were more protests from Miss Spevak, and Dr. Dunbar and four assistants burst into the office.
"He's ours," said Dunbar, his glasses agleam.
"He's an ape-man," said the assistant with the black eye.
"He's a dangerous lunatic," said the assistant with the cut lip.
"We've come to take him away," said the assistant with the torn coat.
The gnarly man spread his feet and gripped his stick like a baseball bat by the small end.
Robinette opened a desk drawer and got out a large pistol. "One move toward him and I'll use this. The use of extreme violence is justified to prevent commission of a felony, to wit: kidnapping."
The five men backed up a little. Dunbar said: "This isn't kidnapping. You can only kidnap a person, you know. He isn't a human being, and I can prove it."
The assistant with the black eye snickered. "If he wants protection, he better see a game warden instead of a lawyer."
"Maybe that's what you think," said Robinette. "You aren't a lawyer. According to the law, he's human. Even corporations, idiots, and unborn children are legally persons, and he's a damned sight more human they they are."
"Then he's a dangerous lunatic," said Dunbar.
"Yeah? Where's your commitment order? The only persons who can apply for one are: (a) close relatives and (b) public officials charged with the maintenance of order. You're neither."
Dunbar continued stubbornly: "He ran amuck in my hospital and nearly killed a couple of my men, you know. I guess that gives us some rights."
"Sure," said Robinette. "You can step down to the nearest station and swear out a warrant." He turned to the gnarly man. "Shall we throw the book at 'em. Gaffney?"
"I'm all right," said that individual, his speech returning to its normal slowness. "I just want to make sure these guys don't pester me any more."
"Okay. Now listen, Dunbar. One hostile move out of you and we'll have a warrant out for you for false arrest, assault and battery, attempted kidnapping, criminal conspiracy, and disorderly conduct. And we'll slap on a civil suit for damages for sundry torts, to wit: assault, deprivation of civil rights, placing in jeopardy of life and limb, menace, and a few more I may think of later."
"You'll never make that stick," snarled Dunbar. "We have all the witnesses."
"Yeah? And wouldn't the great Evan Dunbar look sweet defending such actions? Some of the ladies who gush over your books might suspect that maybe you weren't such a damn knight in shining armor. We can make a prize monkey of you, and you know it."
"You're destroying the possibility of a great scientific discovery, you know, Robinette."
"To hell with that. My duty is to protect my client. Now beat it, all of you, before I call a cop." His left hand moved suggestively to the telephone.
Dunbar grasped at a last straw. "Hm-m-m. Have you got a permit for that gun?"
"Damn right. Want to see it?"
Dunbar sighed. "Never mind. You would have." His greatest opportunity for fame was slipping out of his fingers. He drooped toward the door.
The gnarly man spoke up. "If you don't mind, Dr. Dunbar, I left my hat at your place. I wish you'd send it to Mr. Robinette here. I have a hard time getting hats to fit me."
Dunbar looked at him silently and left with his cohorts.
The gnarly man was giving the lawyer further details when the telephone rang. Robinette answered: "Yes . Saddler? Yes, he's here . Your Dr. Dunbar was going to murder him so he could dissect him . okay." He turned to the gnarly man. "Your friend Dr. Saddler is looking for you. She's on her way up here."
"Zounds!" said Gaffney. "I'm going."
"Don't you want to see her? She was phoning from around the corner. If you go out now you'll run into her. How did she knew where to call?"
"I gave her your number. I suppose she called the hospital and my boardinghouse, and tried you as a last resort. This door goes into the hall, doesn't it? Well, when she comes in the regular door I'm going out this one. And I don't want you saying where I've gone. It's nice to have known you, Mr. Robinette."
"Why? What's the matter? You're not going to run out now, are you? Dunbar's harmless, and you've got friends. I'm your friend."
"You're durn tootin' I'm going to run out. There's too much trouble. I've kept alive all these centuries by staying away from trouble. I let down my guard with Dr. Saddler, and went to the surgeon she recommended. First he plots to take me apart to see what makes me tick. If that brain instrument hadn't made me suspicious, I'd have been on my way to the alcohol jars by now. Then there's a fight, and it's just pure luck I didn't kill a couple of those interns, or whatever they are, and get sent up for manslaughter. Now Matilda's after me with a more-than-friendly interest. I know what it means when a woman looks at you that way and calls you 'dear.' I wouldn't mind if she weren't a prominent person of the kind that's always in some sort of garboil. That would mean more trouble, sooner or later. You don't suppose I like trouble, do you?"