Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “I’m sorry for staring,” he said, in a soft, quiet voice, “but you seemed unhappy and I thought”—his smile became apologetic—“that I might be of some assistance.”

  Reggie patted him on the shoulder.

  “Appreciate your interest, and all that,” he muttered, “but I’m beyond help. Girl doesn’t love; all that rot. Sorry. Not much you could do.”

  The little man edged closer. There was an interested look on his small drab features.

  “Sometimes things aren’t quite as dark as they seem,” he murmured.

  Reggie looked at him with distaste. He was not in any mood for a cheery, inspirational sermon; and the little man seemed on the verge of launching into a pep-talk straight out of Dale Carnegie.

  “Things are plenty dark,” he said firmly. “And whether they are dark, or just seem dark is beside the point. Either way, the situation is no good.”

  The little man cleared his throat.

  “I think I can help you,” he said.

  THERE was no mistaking the firm note of sincerity in his voice and for an instant Reggie’s heart fluttered with hope. He looked at the drab little man with new interest.

  “What makes you think you can help me?” he asked finally, a note of caution in his voice.

  “I am a scientist,” the little man said with quiet pride. “My work lies in the field of—ah—adjustment.”

  “Adjustment?”

  The little man nodded. Precisely. I adjust people to their environment. When a man is unhappy is it usually because he is not in a proper attunement with his surroundings.”

  “That’s very true,” Reggie said thoughtfully. He finished his drink and nodded to the bartender. “And bring one for my friend, please,” he said.

  “Thank you,” the little man said.

  “Not at all. Now go on with your story. How can you help me?”

  “Well,” the little man said, “I’d have to know more of the circumstances involved. Supposing you tell me the facts behind this unreciprocated affection of yours.”

  “Gladly,” Reggie said. He found himself warming to this kindly little man; and he found himself warming also to the mellow effects of the Scotch.

  “I am in love with a girl named Eileen Ravenal,” he began pensively. “She is the most wonderful girl in the world.”

  “Naturally,” the little man said.

  Reggie glanced at him suspiciously.

  “How do you know?”

  The little man smiled.

  “The girl a young man loves is always the most wonderful girl in the world. Go on.”

  “Well,” Reggie continued moodily, “she doesn’t love me. She thinks I’m an aimless, witless, irresponsible young fool, and she doesn’t go for that type. She prefers big strong men of character and so she’s going to marry one.” Reggie shuddered and gulped his drink. “She’s going to marry an amateur sportsman, a gentleman jockey, with big muscles and piercing eyes. Serves her right,” he added bitterly.

  “When is this marriage to take place?” the little man asked.

  “I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”

  “Who is this man?”

  “His name,” said Reggie, “is Guy Mannering. His estate adjoins her fathers; and Eileen and he have known each other since they were old enough to bull-dog steers.”

  “Do they live near here?”

  “No. Their estate is down in Virginia, in the blue grass country. Her father breeds show animals. Dogs, horses, chickens, things like that.”

  “And you’re sure you love this girl?”

  “I adore her,” Reggie said fervently. “But it’s no use. Their engagement is being announced at a house party this week-end.” He shook his head sadly and ordered another drink. “She even had the heartless gall to invite me down for the festivities.”

  “Splendid,” the little man said, beaming. “There is hope yet.”

  Reggie blinked at him.

  “You’re drunk,” he said, hiccuping gently. “She and I are through. She said I just didn’t add up to what she wanted in a husband.”

  THE little man slapped his hand emphatically on the bar.

  “That is where I come in,” he said. “What do you mean?” Reggie said dazedly.

  “Now listen to me closely,” the little man said, staring fixedly at Reggie with his curious solid blue eyes. “She said you didn’t add up to what she wanted, didn’t she?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  The little man cut him off imperiously.

  “My job is to see that you do add up to what she wants,” he said quietly.

  “What’s that?” Reggie said. Everything was getting rather fuzzy, and the little man’s bewildering comments weren’t helping the buzzing confusion in his head.

  “Perhaps I had better explain,” the little man said, with a tolerant smile. “You see, each human being is constructed to an invariable set of laws which regulate his development. Our molecular structure is determined at birth and our subsequent growth is in direct relation to that original molecular structure. Do you understand?”

  “No,” Reggie said flatly.

  The little man chuckled good-naturedly.

  “No one does,” he smiled. “But anyway, I have discovered a formula which alters the original molecular arrangement of a human being and permits him to assume another arrangement which may be more to his liking. As I explained from the start, it’s simply a problem of adjustment. Now, I can change your arrangement and you will become a different person. To use the very words that the girl of your choice did, you will add up to another personality, another character. Now won’t that be wonderful?”

  “Why, I guess so,” Reggie said dubiously. “She certainly wants no part of me as I am now. Maybe if I changed completely I’d be more acceptable.”

  “Precisely,” the little man said emphatically. He extended a hand to Reggie. “Let us shake on it.”

  Reggie shook hands with the little man and they both had another drink to cement their odd pact.

  “What do we do now?” Reggie asked, curiously. He was wondering vaguely what he had let himself in for, but somehow it seemed a little late to be worrying about that.

  “We will go to my laboratory,” the little man said decisively.

  “Fine,” Reggie said. “Let’s have one quick drink before we go.”

  “An excellent idea,” the little man said.

  They had an extra drink, and then another to wash it down. The house popped then for a drink, and out of common decency Reggie bought back, and then they left.

  Outside, it was almost dark. Reggie hailed a cab and the little man mumbled an address to the driver. When they stopped it was before a unpretentious drugstore.

  “This it?” Reggie asked.

  The little man nodded. Reggie paid the driver and they got out.

  “Follow me,” the little man said, putting a conspiratorial finger to his lips.

  HE led Reggie up a rickety flight of steps into a small, sparsely furnished room and closed the door. He switched on an overhead light and Reggie saw that a work bench had been built against one wall. It was covered with bottles, retorts, beakers and several Bunsen burners.

  The little man walked unsteadily to the lab bench and picked up a small bottle. Reggie sat down on the side of the bed and blinked dazedly at him. He was conscious of being definitely drunk, but he had reached the state where that fact was no longer worrisome. While glancing about the room he noticed a bottle of whisky on a chiffonier. He stood up and crossed the room unsteadily to pour himself a drink.

  The little man had been fussing about the laboratory bench and now he returned to Reggie’s side. In his hand he held a glass of some substance that looked just like water.

  “Drink this,” he said.

  Reggie looked at the mixture dubiously.

  “Will it change me?” he asked.

  “You’ll see,” the little man smiled.

  Reggie took the glass and, after a moment’s hesitation
, drank it down. The stuff tasted just like water. He waited for an instant, but nothing happened. He burped and glanced accusingly at the little man.

  “It didn’t work,” he muttered.

  “It takes a little time,” his host answered. “Don’t you feel anything?”

  Reggie shook his head solemnly.

  “Not a thing.”

  “Go home and get a good night’s rest,” the little man said. “Tomorrow it should start to work.”

  “Then what?” Reggie asked.

  “Then,” the little man triumphantly, “take a train down to Virginia and win back your girl. You will be a changed person. Your molecular arrangement will be completely different. She will love you at sight.”

  “What will I be like?” Reggie asked, intrigued.

  The little man looked puzzled.

  “I’m not quite sure,” he said thoughtfully, “but you’ll be changed, and that’s the important thing.”

  “Fine,” Reggie said. “And then I go down to Virginia, is that right?”

  The little man nodded.

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Reggie said fervently. “You’ve brought hope to life again. Isn’t there anything I can do for you?”

  The little man smiled and shook his head.

  “Just let me know how things turn out,” he said. “That will be reward enough.”

  REGGIE thanked him again and left.

  He remembered very little about getting home to his apartment. There was an interval in the rear of a car, so he assumed he was in a cab, but his next conscious memory was entering his large, well-furnished apartment and trying to turn on the light.

  But something was wrong!

  He couldn’t reach the switch. He stood on his toes but his hands were several inches short of the switch. And when he gave up trying he heard something scratch against the wall, and realized with a drunken start that the sound was produced by his nails sliding down the wall.

  And then, to add to his bewilderment, he found that he was on all fours, trotting about the room.

  This wouldn’t do, he decided. He stopped and looked down and he couldn’t believe his eyes. For his hands were much smaller than they should have been and surprisingly enough they were covered with hair.

  They looked just like paws!

  Reggie deliberated over this phenomenon for several minutes. Obviously something was wrong. He trotted to the window and looked out. A full moon was just rising in the pale blue of the night sky.

  A peculiar urge came to him as he stared at the rising moon, and he sat down on his haunches and lifted his nose in the air. A plaintive bay sounded in his ears, and he peered about in sudden surprise until he realized that he was making the sound.

  This thing was getting more ridiculous all the time, he decided uneasily.

  With a bewildered shake of his head he decided he’d better get to bed. He trotted unsteadily across the room and hopped up on the bed. As he dropped off to sleep he decided that he’d better slow down a bit on his drinking. Things were coming to a pretty pass if a fellow started imagining he had turned into a dog.

  He curled up comfortably and closed his eyes.

  But something suddenly fell across his nose. He opened his eyes and saw that it was a soft, bushy tail. And it seemed to belong to him. At least it was attached to him in the customary manner.

  He decided then he’d better quit drinking altogether.

  CHAPTER II

  THE following morning Reggie awoke and, except for a slight headache, felt exceptionally fine. He bounded out of bed, took a few deep breaths and then walked to the window to admire the strong, glorious sun that splashed on the green lawn like streaming shafts of gold.

  Everything seemed wonderful, for some reason.

  And then he remembered the events of the previous night, his meeting with the little scientist at the bar, the drug he had taken to alter his personality, and he suddenly realized why he felt so wonderful.

  He was leaving today for Virginia to impress Eileen with his magnificent, sterling, brand-new character!

  A sudden thought occurred to him and he walked to a wall mirror and peered closely at himself. He still looked the same, so he decided that his transformation had been mental and spiritual.

  He shaved and dressed in a hurry. Now that he had actually decided to go to Virginia and make one last try for the affections of Eileen, he couldn’t get started soon enough.

  On the way to the train he remembered one other thing of the night before, and the recollection brought a slight frown to his face.

  For he was recalling his arrival at his apartment and the peculiar sensation he’d experienced before he’d fallen asleep. He had felt like a dog! He remembered that distinctly. He had trotted about the floor, bayed at the moon, and there had been the matter of a tail . . .

  He inspected himself cautiously. No, he was all right now. He smiled weakly at his reflection in the rear-vision mirror of the cab.

  What an odd thing to imagine! And of course it had been his imagination. He remembered then that the little man hadn’t been sure what sort of change the drug would effect on his temperament and development.

  He chuckled aloud.

  What a joke if the drug had turned him into a dog!

  He laughed for a while and then the grin froze on his face and he stared dazedly at his reflection.

  What a joke!

  “Ha, ha,” he said, “very funny.”

  He mopped his suddenly damp brow and put the handkerchief back in his pocket with nervous fingers.

  EILEEN met him at the station. She was sitting behind the wheel of a low-slung station wagon and she waved happily at him when he got off the train.

  “Throw your grips in the back,” she said, as he reached the side of the car. “Gosh, it’s good to see you again, Reggie,” she added, as they started down the dusty road that led to Plainacres, the family estates of the Ravenals.

  Reggie sat beside her, studying her smiling profile with the look of a lost fish on his face.

  Eileen Ravenal was a slim blonde with eyes that seemed to be smiling at some pleasant memory. The wind blew the hair from her forehead as they drove along the winding, tree-lined road and her teeth were startlingly white in her tanned face. She wore a short-sleeved white blouse and shorts and her bare arms and legs were a light smooth brown from the sun.

  She glanced sideways at Reggie as they were taking a turn and grinned.

  “Seems like old times, doesn’t it?” she said.

  Reggie nodded in a preoccupied sort of way. His attention was focused on the road and his hands had a death grip on the door handle.

  “Watch the road, will you please?” he begged. “You still drive like the poor man’s Barney Oldfield.”

  “Oh, I know what I’m doing,” Eileen smiled.

  She missed a startled pedestrian by several scant inches and without pausing for breath said, “You know, Reggie, I was afraid for a while you wouldn’t come down for the week-end. I thought you might have some foolish idea of not seeing me again, since I decided to marry Guy.” She patted his knee affectionately. “But I should have known you wouldn’t be silly about this thing. After all, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be the best of friends, is there?”

  Reggie was about to agree miserably, when he suddenly remembered his new personality. The old Reggie Thorndyke would have been meekly humble, but the new Reggie—well, that was another matter.

  He cleared his throat decisively.

  “Naturally we’ll be friends,” he said. “Most married couples are.”

  Eileen looked at him in surprise.

  “What do you mean, Reggie?”

  “Simply that you’re going to marry me,” Reggie said, knocking the ash carefully from his cigarette. He leaned back comfortably in the seat and ignored the incredulous expression on the girl’s face. He pointed to the passing landscape. “Beautiful up here this time of the year, isn�
�t it?”

  “Have you lost your mind, Reggie?” Eileen demanded.

  REGGIE regarded her with politely raised eyebrows.

  “Lost my mind? I think not. It is beautiful up here, the Chamber of Commerce is saying so all the time.” His expression became concerned. “Don’t you like it?”

  “Stop this double-talk,” Eileen said grimly. “I’m. not interested in the scenery. I want to know what you mean by saying I’m going to marry you.” Her small capable hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous and presumptious in my life.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Reggie said. “For a while you may find the idea rather new, but you’ll get over that. Do you like June weddings, darling?”

  “Don’t call me ‘darling’,” Eileen snapped. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Reggie. You sound as if you’re blind drunk. I invited you down for the announcement of my wedding because I thought of you as one of my friends. But if I thought you were going to cause a scene I would never have asked you.”

  “Oh, perish the thought,” Reggie said, lightly. “There won’t be any dramatics. I won’t ride in on a white horse and carry you off like Lochinvar. We’re both a little old for that sort of nonsense. We’ll just tell your father and dear Guy that we love each other and that will be that. Your father will undoubtedly have a stroke, and Guy will try to punch me in the face, and then we’ll live happily ever after. You see, the whole thing is very simple.”

  “Except for one trifling matter,” Eileen said sweetly.

  “Did I forget something?” Reggie inquired.

  “Yes, you did,” Eileen said, in the same sweet voice. “Of course it’s just a minor oversight, and I know it won’t bother you, but you did forget to ask me to marry you.”

  “Oh, nothing serious then,” Reggie said. “You had me worried for a minute. All right, consider yourself asked. Pip! Pip! Nothing to it.”

  “And it gives me great pleasure to tell you I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth,” Eileen said heatedly. “Now does that change your plans any, Mr. Thorndyke?”

  “Why, no,” Reggie said blandly. “You’ll say no a few times just to be feminine. But you’ll marry me eventually. See if you don’t.”