The two of them, linking arms, started toward the door. They were just about to sweep out of the room when suddenly the situation hit a new snag. It was at this juncture that George opened his eyes, waggled them around woozily, then reared up in a sitting position, staring at Marc. "You!" he said with a strangled gasp. "You're alive!" The way he said it, it sounded like a hideous accusation. Marc stopped short, caught off guard. "Of course I'm alive," he said. "But you can't be!" George wailed, great tears of awful disappointment welling in his eyes. "It isn't fair! You _have_ to be dead!" "I'm sorry," Marc said, somewhat at a loss. "I'm not." "It's rotten," George said with drunken bitterness. "It's cruel. I'm probably the only ghost alive who's haunted by a human!" "Well, it's a distinction," Toffee offered hopefully. "Just a minute," the doctor put in suspiciously. "What's going on here? What are you people talking about?" Marc nodded sadly toward George. "The poor chap's delirious," he said. "We're only trying to humor him." "Oh, yeah?" the doctor said. His gaze moved from Marc to George and back to Marc again. "Just which one of you really _is_ Marc Pillsworth?" Marc and George pointed at each other in unison. "He is!" they chorused. The doctor passed a trembling hand over his forehead and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. A tremor of frustration passed through his sturdy frame. He turned to the small blonde. "Is Mrs. Pillsworth still in the waiting room?" he asked. "I believe so, sir," the nurse said. "Will you please call her in here to make an identification?" "No!" Marc said, glancing uneasily in Toffee's direction. "Don't do that...! I mean there's no need to disturb Mrs. Pillsworth. Obviously this pitiful creature here on the floor is Pillsworth. Just by looking at him you can see he's under the weather." At this George drew himself up sedately, stiffling a hiccough. "Nothing of the sort," he said piously. "I'm in perfectly splendid condition." "Go ahead, nurse," the doctor said firmly. "Bring Mrs. Pillsworth." "Yes, sir," the nurse said, and departed. "But, you can't afford to delay the operation that long," Marc said. "You said so yourself. Anyone with half an eye can see that this poor man is getting more feeble by the second. You owe it to him to slit him open immediately...!" In speaking Marc had paused to look at George. The result was that the words froze on his lips. Never had he spoken more truly; George was not only getting more feeble but more non-existent by the second. His legs had evaporated to the knees, his arms were entirely gone. Where his eyes should have been there were now only empty sockets. Staring at this awesome demonstration, the doctor tottered slightly and braced himself against the operating table. "Oh, good Lord!" he moaned. "Stop that, you coward," Marc said angrily. "Stop sneaking out like that!" * * * * *