"Now—stand there. You are just as I was—only I didn't expect anything."
She was pantomiming someone approaching stealthily while Kennedy watched her with interest, tinged with doubt. Behind Craig, in his closet, Dan was reaching for the switchboard button.
"You see," she said advancing quickly and acting her words, "he placed his hands on my shoulders—so—then threw his arms about my neck—so."
She said no more, but imprinted a deep, passionate kiss on Kennedy's mouth, clinging closely to him. Before Kennedy could draw away, Dan, in the closet, had pressed the button and the switch several times in rapid succession.
"Th-that's very realistic," gasped Craig, a good deal taken aback by the sudden osculatory assault.
He frowned.
"I—I'll look into the case," he said, backing away. "There may be some scientific explanation—but—er—"
He was plainly embarrassed and hastened to make his adieux.
Kennedy had no more than shut the door before Dan, with a gleeful laugh, burst out of the closet and flung his own arms about Florrie in an embrace that might have been poisoned, it is true, but was none the less real for that.
. . . . . . . .