"We have an undetectable anesthetic in my world," he observed. "A few drops of it on a handkerchief, pressed over your Myrtle's face tonight, will make her sleep as soundly as my wife is sleeping over there." He nodded to the still figure on the floor.
Horning scrubbed the sweat from his hands against his pant-legs. Shivering, he ran his fingers through his hair.
"You'll be free to follow your research, wherever it leads you," his counterpart murmured dreamily. "For me, I'll have my Myrtle's fortune to console me." He laughed softly. "What could be simpler, or sweeter?"
Horning slumped deeper into the chair. He rubbed at his cheek; squeezed his eyes tight shut and then opened them again. The skin across his forehead seemed to draw tighter and tighter, like a band of steel, till it was all he could do to keep from screaming aloud. He twisted, shifted, slid down further.
His counterpart stretched. The dreamy look left the deep-set eyes.
"We're dawdling too long. It's time we got started." He straightened. "Come on."
"No," said Horning.
The man from across the barrier between the parallel worlds half turned, head tilted, brows suddenly knitting. "What—?"
"I said no," Horning answered through dry lips. "I'm not going to do it."