"How ya feeling, Johnny?" I said. "Great," he said, though he didn't sound it. "Things seem a lot clearer this morning." "Good. I thought they would. You know, you really had me going last night. I thought you meant all that stuff, but I guess imagination and a few beers can do a lot." "Cut the kidding," he said grimly. "What?" "I said, cut it. I'm not in the mood." "Now what's the matter?" "This," he said. He held up a pair of glasses, twins to those destroyed. "But--how could you have made another set? You haven't been near the lab today." "When I first discovered this web business, I made two pair of glasses. I figured two people could do something about it a whole lot easier than just one. But I was afraid to let anyone in on it. I thought maybe I _was_ batty." "So?" "I made this pair for you. For you, Charlie, so you could write the stuff up in your paper to let people know. That's a laugh, isn't it?" "Say--that's swell. But--" "Stand back!" Johnny cried suddenly, as I started to move toward him. He snatched a gun from beneath a pillow and waved it threateningly. "Know what I was doing this afternoon before you came in?" "Johnny, this is crazy! Put down that gun and listen to reason." "I had the glasses on," he continued, "and I was looking out the window here. I'm getting real brave--even in broad daylight--but there comes a time when you just don't care. I saw _spiders_ in the streets. Huge spiders walking along the streets, mingling with human beings. And get this, Charlie--when I took the glasses off, they were like human beings. Like humans, you understand. You know what that means? They're in disguise all around us!" "That's not true, Johnny," I insisted. "There are no webs in the sky. There are _no_ spiders. It's your imagination. The strain. Working in the lab--" "No," he cried, and the gun never wavered. "You know what else I saw? A few minutes ago. I was looking down into the street, and a spider got out of a car just in front of the hotel here and started coming in. I took off the glasses to see if it might be someone I knew." He began to laugh hysterically. "You know who it was, Charlie--" I leaped forward, trying to knock the gun down. But Johnny's hand came up, and the gun jumped, spurting noise and flame. The bullet slammed into my body. Desperately, I drove forward. My arms went around him. The gun went off again, before I could prevent it. A furrow of pain shot across my stomach, and I shrieked out in sudden anguish. "Johnny, Johnny. Stop it. Stop!" I struck his hand. The gun clattered to the floor. He was struggling frantically, striking out against me with doubled fists. His shirt was splattered with my blood. He gasped, clearing his lungs for a scream. There was nothing else I could do. The life was draining from me. I held his arms and legs together and tried not to look into the terrified expression crossing his face. I held him tightly while he squirmed in helpless frustration.