"I'm all right, doctor," Marc said, his voice unnaturally loud. "I'm perfectly okay. So you see, I really don't need you! It was just a little joke. Hah, hah!" His laugh was false and a little hysterical. "So you can run along back to your nuts ... ah ... patients." He glanced nervously at the door to the photographer's room. Everything was ominously quiet. The hissing from George's chair had stopped. The doctor cleared his throat, glanced significantly at Julie. "Well, yes," he said, edging closer to Marc. "I'll run along. But I want you to answer a few simple questions for me first. Is that all right?" "Sure! Sure," Marc said feverishly. "I'll answer your questions. Only make it fast, doctor. I'm a busy man, you know." "All right," the doctor said, taking a pencil from his pocket and carefully spreading a notebook over one knee. "I'm going to give you a list of words and I want you to give me the first response that comes into your mind. Understand?" "Sure, doctor," Marc replied. "You say a word and I come back at you with the first thing it reminds me of. Only hurry, will you?" "Fine." The doctor poised the pencil over the notebook. "Now this is the first word. Black." "Future," Marc answered absently, gazing fearfully at George's chair. "Hot," the doctor continued. "Seat," Marc replied, still absorbed in the chair. "Cut." "Throat." "Door." Marc glanced frightenedly at the door to the photographer's room. "Closed!" he yelled, taking advantage of the situation. "Keep the door closed!" The doctor turned worriedly to Julie. "These are very strange responses, Mrs. Pillsworth," he said. "Frankly, I don't know what to make of them. There's some sort of anxiety complex here that's not quite clear." "Ask half-witted questions, and you get half-witted answers." The voice was Marc's, but still it hadn't come from Marc, though it appeared to. Obviously George was awake and entering into the spirit of things again. Marc's gaze went wild and finally stopped at the chair. It was still empty. "What did you say?" the doctor asked politely, turning back to Marc. "I said," the voice broke out again, "that I wish you would get the hell out of here and leave me alone. If I have to listen to you any longer, I'll probably get sick all over myself." * * * * * The doctor stared at Marc, his face heavy with incredulity. "Now," he whispered, "he's talking without even moving his lips." "Marc Pillsworth!" Julie put in severely. "I don't care if you are sick, you can at least be civil." "Oh, stop your silly yapping," the voice returned. "You're no seasick remedy, yourself." "What!" Julie's blue eyes were suddenly as hard as ice and twice as chilly. The very sight of them put icicles on Marc's spine. "I didn't mean it!" he cried. "I mean, I didn't say it!" "You've made your bed," Julie snapped. "Don't try to lie out of it."