Before the enraged Justice, Marc began to sway slightly, all but leaning against the bench for support. He passed an unsteady hand over a forehead that was throbbing dreadfully. This was unquestionably the end. His doom was being swiftly sealed by a master craftsman called Fate, and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Worst of all, he was being taken away from Julie just at the time when she needed him most. He wondered feverishly why they didn't just lynch him and get it over with. Even through the calamitous events of the previous day he had managed to bolster his spirits with the notion that everything would somehow clear itself up when the time came, but now he realized that he had only indulged in wishful thinking. Now, he just wanted to have done with it all. Compared to this yowling courtroom, a nice quiet cell seemed a haven of unblemished loveliness. He glanced behind him and shuddered. He seemed to be surrounded by a wall of accusing, pointing fingers. Then he blinked and turned about. There appeared to be a curious divergence in the direction of the pointing fingers. Most of them, it was perfectly true, were pointing at him, but a few indicated a region far to the right. And even as he watched, others began to waver from him and move uncertainly away. Then, a great collective gasp scraped through the room, and was followed by a charged silence. Marc stepped forward and immediately echoed the gasp. George, fully materialized and smiling, was leaning nonchalantly against the right hand wall. Casually smoking a cigarette, at the sight of Marc, the spirit plucked the smouldering cylinder from his lips and tossed it to the courtroom floor. Marc's eyes promptly sought the face of the Justice. It was a grave mistake. The Justice's face, never a thing of beauty, was now an item of extreme repugnance. More than a human face, it looked like an ugly, mottled sponge that had been squeezed dry. The Justice's lips, a fierce blue color, were working at odds with each other in an attempt to say something that was probably better left unsaid. One of the waitresses broke the spell with a shrill, hysterical giggle. "Oh, my God!" she jabbered. "Now there's two of them!" This accurate statement of matters seemed to steady the Justice's nerves somewhat. "How ... how did you get in here, may I ask?" he demanded. [Illustration: Justice Harvey pounded his gavel noisily as he pointed an accusing finger at George and bellowed: "How did he get into this court?"] George boosted himself away from the wall and sauntered indolently toward the bar. "None of your fat-necked henchmen dragged me in," he said. The Justice's gavel wavered uncertainly a moment, then remained at rest. The Justice regarded it dolefully. Somehow, in the last few minutes it had lost some of its appeal. "As someone seems to have remarked," the Justice observed sadly, "we now have two of them." He sighed deeply. "Will someone volunteer to tell the court which is which?"