He caught one glimpse of innumerable people—terrifying to him, under the circumstances—ranged around the big room, and then fled through a doorway on his right. It was definitely no time to face giants, dwarfs, dog-faced boys, or wild men from Sumatra. Vanderhof wanted only peace and quiet.
He got neither.
He found himself in a small anteroom containing a mirror and a dwarf. The latter whirled and snapped. "Didn't you see the sign over the door? This is private! I-huh?"
He stopped talking, and presently resumed. "Say, that's a clever trick. Are you one of the boys? A magician, huh?"
"Yeah," said the now dwarfish Mr. Vanderhof. "I d-do it with mirrors."
"Damn good," returned the little man, whose name was Bingo. "Wait a minute. I want Ajax to see this."
"Don't bother," Vanderhof started, but he was too late. Bingo whistled, and immediately the room was darkened by the shadow of Ajax, who was seven feet nine inches tall, and would have had no need for snowshoes.
Vanderhof shut his eyes. He tried to assert his will-power, or what little remained of it, and was rewarded with pleased noises from giant and dwarf. "Clever!" said the latter. "Did you see that? He was little a minute ago. Now he isn't."
"That's right," the giant rumbled. "He looked like you, too, Bingo. Did you notice? Who are you, Mister?"'
"I wish I knew," Vanderhof gasped, feeling lost and helpless. He dared not open his eyes. He was again in his normal semblance, but the very sight of either Ajax or Bingo might cause another metamorphosis.
"You!" a new voice broke in—one familiar to Vanderhof as that of the drunk in the arcade. "I been looking for you. I want to punch you in the snoot."
Vanderhof, feeling set-upon, almost had a mad impulse to sock the drunk, but habit prevailed. He took refuge in flight, or tried to. Unfortunately, he ran into the mirror, bumped his nose, and turned, opening his eyes.
He saw Ajax and Bingo.
The drunk lunged forward, lifting his cane. Then he halted, and a scream of stark terror burst from his throat.
"Yaaaah!" he shrieked. Apparently considering this an insufficient comment, he threw up his hands and added, "Waaaah!"
He fled, leaving a memento in the form of his cane, which he flung at Vanderhof with unerring aim. Nose and cane collided.
Ajax and Bingo whistled in chorus: 'Wow!" said the latter. "Didja see that? Mister, you're good! You almost scared me."
Vanderhof, tears of pain in his eyes, turned to the mirror. "Yeah," he said in a shaky voice. "You may not believe it, but I'm scaring myself. Am I crazy, or do I look like both of you?"
"Well," the dwarf said judiciously, "the top part of you looks like me, but the bottom half looks like Ajax. I don't see how you do it. You must be on the big time."
Vanderhof was silent, considering the impossible reflection in the mirror. From the waist up he was Bingo, the dwarf. His lower extremities were those of a giant. The result was harrowing in the extreme. It was like putting a chameleon on Scotch plaid.
With a mighty effort he resumed his normal appearance. There were cries of amazement and appreciation from his companions. Leaving them to their simple pleasures, Vanderhof walked unsteadily back into the main show. He was bound for fresh air—lots of it. And peace.
Chameleons, however, do not lead peace-
