“Possibly you’d like to try the antidote?” Reggie said casually.
“Might not be a bad idea,” said Mr. Demise.
Reggie handed him the second drink and watched contentedly as Mr. Demise drank it down. Mr. Demise set down the glass.
“You wush right,” he said, slumping against the back of the chair. “Absolutely right. Second drink ish an antidote. Jush what I needed.”
“Absolutely,” Reggie agreed solemnly.
Mr. Demise closed his eyes but he opened them almost immediately. He struggled up to a sitting position.
“I hash something to do,” he muttered. His hand groped into the inside of his coat, returned with the slim black book. “Very important,” he mumbled. “First assignment. Can’t have any slip ups.”
Reggie moistened his lips nervously. He eyed the little black book carefully. That might be the way...
“How about another drink, old boy,” he said heartily. He mixed one quickly, handed it to Mr. Demise. Mr. Demise took it in his left hand and Reggie deftly plucked the black book from his right hand. Mr. Demise appeared not to notice the exchange. He drank the drink methodically.
Reggie tossed the book under a coffee table.
Mr. Demise climbed unsteadily to his feet.
Reggie took him by the arm. “What say we go out and have a few quick antidotes?” he suggested.
Mr. Demise nodded stupidly. He mumbled something unintelligible and allowed Reggie to lead him to the door. Reggie’s brain was working at full speed. If he could just ditch Mr. Demise and get back to the book everything might be saved. His idea was sheer brilliance...
Their first destination was a bar. Reggie found a cab, shoved Mr. Demise inside and ordered the driver to one of the dozens of friendly bars with which he was familiar.
At the first stop Mr. Demise had two more drinks. When he had drained the second Reggie hauled him to his feet and started for another palate palace. His object was to keep Mr. Demise so bewildered and drunk that he would forget his job.
For a while he succeeded. Mr. Demise followed him helplessly from bar to bar and sat tottering on high stools happily pouring fiery intoxicants into his already overburdened stomach.
But finally he reached the state of saturation where the liquor produced a steadily diminishing effect. Reggie watched him worriedly and ordered more and more drinks.
But it was no use.
In spite of the enormous quantities of liquor he had consumed, Mr. Demise was slowly sobering up. His face was losing its blank expression and an intelligent gleam was creeping back into his eyes.
He began to fumble uncertainly through his pockets, a worried expression settling over his features.
Reggie slapped him on the back resoundingly.
“Have a drink!” he shouted into his ear.
Mr. Demise shook his head stubbornly.
“Got a job to do,” he muttered. He went slowly through his pockets and an expression of horror replaced the worried look on his face.
“Where’s my book?” he gasped. “I’ve lost my book! This is terrible. I’ve got to find it!”
“What book?” Reggie asked innocently.
“The book with all the names and places and dates and methods,” Mr. Demise moaned. “I’ve lost it.”
Reggie shrugged philosophically.
“Too bad,” he said. “But things are never as black as they seem. Maybe it’ll turn up somewhere. The thing to do is just sit tight until someone finds it and reports it.”
“I can’t wait,” wailed Mr. Demise. “These things have to happen on schedule. There’d be an awful rumpus in the complaint department if I started sending people up there haphazardly. And I don’t even remember whom I’ve got on the list. You’re the only one I’m sure of.”
Reggie choked on his drink.
“Yes,” Mr. Demise went on obliviously, “you’re the first. I’m sure of that much. And I’d better send you along right away. I’ll do that much correctly, at least.”
“Now, just a minute,” Reggie said, “how’re you sure you’ve got me right? I looked at that book and I don’t think I’m the man you want at all.”
“You looked at the book!” cried Mr. Demise with sudden suspicion. “So that’s where it went. That’s why you got me drunk. You stole my book, hoping to evade your destiny, didn’t you?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Reggie said, forcing a note of outraged indignation into his voice.
“Yes you did,” Mr. Demise said. “I’m not going to wait a second longer in your case. Mr. Fiddler, prepare yourself for a long trip and don’t plan on coming back.”
Reggie realized that the jig was up. Mr. Demise had a grim business-like note in his voice and there was no hope of prolonging things further. Drastic action was needed, not discussion.
With a leap like a startled gazelle Reggie left his stool and bounded for the door. Before Mr. Demise could turn around, he was in the street, shouting frantically for a cab.
A cab pulled to the curb and Reggie leaped into its dark interior. Over his shoulder he saw Mr. Demise stagger from the bar, a wrathful expression stamped on his dark features.
The cab started away with a roar. Reggie shouted his address at the driver and squirmed about to peek out the rear window.
He saw Mr. Demise clambering into another cab.
“Hurry!” he shouted to his driver.
“Life or death, eh?” the cabby said conversationally.
Reggie winced. “You said it.”
The cab caromed around corners, hit the Outer Drive and hurled along like a frightened cotton-tail until it reached the near North side, where it swung west and sped through the labyrinthine streets that led to Reggie’s apartment.
From the rear window Reggie could see Mr. Demise’s cab speeding after them, steadily closing the gap. His palms were moist and the effects of the liquor had completely faded, leaving him horribly sober. There was nothing funny about this predicament.
His cab jolted to a stop and Reggie threw a bill at the driver and leaped out and raced into the foyer of his building.
By a miraculous stroke of luck the elevator was not in use. He slammed the door and jabbed the button and the car started upward with a jerk. He breathed a long shuddering sigh of relief. Maybe there would yet be time...
The elevator stopped at his floor. Just as he opened the door and stepped out, the elevator suddenly dropped back down the shaft. One of his legs dangled down the shaft. With a startled squawk he pulled himself onto the floor landing.
Mr. Demise obviously meant business. If he’d been in that elevator everything would be all over now. As it was he still had a chance.
He let himself into his apartment, switched on the light and dove underneath the coffee table. The black book of doom was still there. Frantically Reggie opened it to the first page, found his own name.
He jerked a pencil from his pocket...
He was still scribbling furiously when the door of the apartment banged open and Mr. Demise strode into the room, his face black as a thundercloud.
Reggie dropped the pencil and hid the book from view with his body.
“So!” Mr. Demise cried. “You would try to escape?”
He raised both hands commandingly in the air.
Before he could move again Reggie wheeled about.
“Just a minute,” he shrieked. He held out the slim black book to Mr. Demise. “I was sure a mistake had been made. Here! Look for yourself.”
“I want no more of your tricks,” Mr. Demise warned ominously.
“This is no trick,” Reggie said. “You should be grateful to me for catching the error in time.”
Mr. Demise took the book from Reggie and examined it carefully. The frown gradually faded from his face as his eyes lingered on the page. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and cleared his throat.