Horning came to an abrupt halt.
The blandness was gone from the other's face now. The deep-set eyes were cold, the sardonic lines set.
He said: "There's another reason, Doctor. I like my life; I like my wife. And I'm afraid the temptation to relieve me of both might prove too great for you."
"You're being absurd," Horning snapped. "Not to mention insulting."
"Am I?" His counterpart smiled thinly. "I doubt that, my friend. You see, we're one, really. Though we live on separate planes, we both feel the same drives, the same tensions, the same impulses."
"You're talking nonsense!"
"No nonsense, Doctor." The pistol in his counterpart's hand was very steady. "Given the proper pressure, a strong enough motive, I know that even I could kill. In your situation, I'd certainly feel justified in murdering you. So I have no intention of giving you the chance to make me your victim."
"So—?" snapped Horning.
"So, you're going to leave now," his coexisting self answered bluntly. "You can be thankful I'll even let you go alive." He gestured with the pistol. "Strap on your unit. And be assured I'd have no hesitancy about shooting you if I have to."
Horning clenched his fists, caught up in a churning sea of fury. "So help me—!"