truth is stranger than fiction, ha, ha!
Police officials deny that the famous amateur criminologist Reginald tie Meister has interested himself in this case. Mr. de Meister himself could not be reached by our reporters for comment. Mr. de Meister is best known to the public for his brilliant solutions to over a dozen crimes, as chronicled in fiction form by his so-called 'Watson,' Mr. Grayle Doone.
Graham quivered and his arms trembled in an awful desire for blood. De Meister was haunting him - but good. He was losing his individuality, exactly as had been threatened.
It gradually dawned upon Graham that the monotonous ringing noise he heard was not in his head, but, on the contrary, from the front door.
Such seemed likewise the opinion of Miss June Billings, whose piercing call shot down the stairs and biffed Graham a sharp uppercut to the ear-drums.
'Hey, dope, see who's at the front door, before the vibration tears the house down. I'll be down in half an hour.'
'Yes, dear!'
Graham shuffled his way to the front door and opened it.
Chapter Four
'Ah, there. Greetin's,' said de Meister, and brushed past.
.Graham's dull eyes stared, and then fired high, as an animal snarl burst from his lips. He took up that gorilla posture, so comforting to red-blooded American males at moments like this, and circled the slightly-confused detective.
'My dear fellow, are you ill?'
'I,' explained Graham, 'am not ill, but you will soon be past all interest in that, for I am going to bathe my hands in your heart's reddest blood.'
'But I say, you'll only have to wash them afterwards. It would be such an obvious clue, wouldn't it?'
'Enough of this gay banter. Have you any last words?'
'Not particularly.'
'It's just as well. I'm not interested in your last words."
He thundered into action, bearing down upon the unfortunate de Meister like a bull elephant. De Meister faded to the left, shot out an arm and a foot, and Graham described a parabolic arc that ended in the total destruction of an end table, a vase of flowers, a fish-bowl, and a five-foot section of wall.
Graham blinked, and brushed away a curious goldfish from his left eyebrow.
'My dear fellow,' murmured de Meister, 'oh, my dear fellow.'
Too late, Graham remembered that passage in Pistol Parade:
De Meister's arms were whipcord lightning, as with sure, rapid thrusts, he rendered the two thugs helpless. Not by brute force, but by his expert knowledge of judo, he defeated them easily without hastening his breath. The thugs groaned in pain.
Graham groaned in pain.
He lifted his right thigh an inch or so to let his femur slip back into place.
'Hadn't you better get up, old chap?'
'I will stay here,' said Graham with dignity, 'and contemplate the floor in profile view, until such time as it suits me or until such time as I find myself capable of moving a muscle. I don't care which. And now, before I proceed to take further measures with you, what the hell do you want?'
Reginald de Meister adjusted his monocle to a nicety. 'You know, I suppose, that MacDunlap's ultimatum expires tomorrow?'
'And you and he with it, I trust.'
'You will not reconsider.'
'Ha!'
'Really,' de Meister sighed, 'this is borin' no end. You have made things comfortable for me in this world. After all, in your books you've made me well-known in all the clubs and better restaurants, the bosom friend, y'know, of the mayor and commissioner of police, the owner of a Park Avenue penthouse and a magnificent art collection. And it all lingers over, old chap. Really quite affectin'.'
'It is remarkable,' mused Graham, 'the intensity with which I am not listening and the distinctness with which I do not hear a word you say.'
'Still,' said de Meister, 'there is no denyin' my book world suits me better. It is somehow more fascinatin', freer from dull logic, more apart from the necessities of the world. In short, I must go back, and to active participation. You have till tomorrow! '
Graham hummed a gay little tune with flat little notes.
'Is this a new threat, de Meister?'
'It is the old threat intensified. I'm going to rob you of every vestige of your personality. And eventually public oninion will force you to write as, to paraphrase you, de Meister's Compleat Stooge. Did you see the name the newspaper chappies pinned on you today, old man?'
'Yes, Mr. Filthy de Meister, and did you read a half-column item on page ten in the same paper. I'll read it for you: "Noted Criminologist in 1-A. Will be inducted