The figure outlined in the light-loop grew sharper. A man lurched through the frame, into the room. His face was Horning's face, and he staggered under the weight of a transdimensional registration unit, plus a great, bulging, cumbersome bundle slung across his shoulder. Horning started forward. His visitor said, "Hold it!" sharply and brought a snub-barreled, too-familiar pistol into view. Horning stopped in his tracks. "You mean--it's you--?" The man from beyond the barrier laughed and spilled the bulky bundle off his shoulder, down onto the floor. "Of course, Doctor! I thought I'd return your visit." He prodded the bundle with his toe. "I even brought you a present." "But ... I thought you said you'd never developed a successful transit unit...." "I hadn't, till you came along and showed me how. As I told you, I'd worked out the components. Once I had a chance to look over your unit, integrating them was no job at all." "But why...?" * * * * * The man with Horning's face laughed again. "That comes later, my friend. After you've admired the present I brought you." Horning eyed the bundle. Limp and bulky, it was nearly six feet long and wrapped loosely in a covering of some greenish plastic. "Go ahead. Look it over," his visitor invited, gesturing with the gun. "It's all yours." New uneasiness crept through Horning. Slowly, he came forward and, kneeling, started to untie the cords that held the bundle closed. "You're too slow," the man said. "Here. Let me do it." He tugged at one corner of the covering. The plastic tore away. Feminine hair came into view. A head lolled over, exposed. Horning found himself staring down into a nightmarish, waxen face. A thin breath bubbled the lips. He leaped back, choking. "Myrtle--!" "Correct," his counterpart chuckled. "Or perhaps I should say--_my_ Myrtle." "_Your_ Myrtle--?" A convulsive tremor shook Horning. "But I thought...." "You thought I had a charming wife who held a fortune in her own name," the other retorted coolly. "The part about the fortune was true. As for the rest"--he shrugged--"well, you can see that I, too, married a wasp-tongued shrew named Myrtle--the coexisting counterpart of your own trouble." With an effort, Horning stilled his trembling. "Then why lie to me?" he demanded in sudden, flaring anger. "What possible reason--" "I was afraid to let you know. And ... I needed time to work out a plan." The sardonic lines about his alter ego's mouth etched deeper. "I've taken care of that detail now." Horning drew back another step. "I don't think I care to hear about it," he clipped tightly. "Oh, but you must!" his counterpart retorted. "You see, you're vital to it." "I don't care for that, either." The other's deep-set eyes glinted. "Not even if it would enable you to get rid of your own wife in perfect safety?" "No." "It's a wonderful plan. So simple...."