Horning laughed curtly. "For my part, I found it a very adequate reason."
For a long moment the other stared at him. Then, abruptly, he, too, laughed. The snub-nosed gun's muzzle lowered.
"You amaze me," his captor chuckled. He bowed. "Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Doctor Raymond X. Horning."
"My coexisting counterpart on this plane—?"
"Of course. The alter ego is bound to serve as a focal point when you cross the barrier." The man pocketed his gun and walked over to the table. "Let me mix you a drink. After such an experience, you need a pickup."
Horning leaned back, studying the other obliquely and trying to fathom the sudden change in his attitude.
Too, he still marveled at the similarity between them. They were so alike they could pass as twins, he decided. Identical twins. The only difference between them lay in details of expression—the sardonic twist to the other's mouth; the chill, penetrating gleam in the deep-set eyes.
His counterpart handed him a glass. "You amuse me, my friend. But I'm afraid you don't realize the full implications of what you've done."
"Such as—?" Horning queried, sipping at the drink and finding it good.