together, frowning heavily.

"What--did--you--say?" he asked with great deliberation, biting
off his words. Then he noticed that he and his companion were no
longer in the barroom, but in a little room back of it. His
personality divided itself. There was one Ross Wilbur--who could
not make his hands go where he wanted them, who said one word when
he thought another, and whose legs below the knee were made of
solid lead. Then there was another Ross Wilbur--Ross Wilbur, the
alert, who was perfectly clear-headed, and who stood off to one
side and watched his twin brother making a monkey of himself,
without power and without even the desire of helping him.

This latter Wilbur heard the iridescent sweater say:

"Bust me, if y' a'n't squiffy, old man. Stand by a bit an' we'll
have a ball."

"Can't have got--return--exceptionally--and the round table--pull
out hairs wi' tu clamsh'ls," gabbled Wilbur's stupefied double;
and Wilbur the alert said to himself: "You're not drunk, Ross
Wilbur, that's certain; what could they have put in your
cocktail?"

The iridescent sweater stamped twice upon the floor and a trap-
door fell away beneath Wilbur's feet like the drop of a gallows.
With the eyes of his undrugged self Wilbur had a glimpse of water
below. His elbow struck the floor as he went down, and he fell
feet first into a Whitehall boat. He had time to observe two men
at the oars and to look between the piles that supported the house