"Yes, sir!"
They pushed the swinging door open and shoved Ron ahead of them. The room was an anomaly in this pristine government building, a warm room of deep-colored woods and thick carpeting. He was placed in a leather chair, his feet not touching the floor. The two men exited, and Ron Carver's body walked to an oaken desk and sat in the padded swivel chair behind the blotter.
"Well," he said. "This is something of a surprise for me."
"And how about me?" Ron said hoarsely.
The man laughed. "Yes, we are both surprised. Was it Robert Burns? Yes, of course. 'To see ourselves as others see us....'" He chuckled, and reached for a cigarette. "Filthy habit, this. Don't know how I picked it up. Possibly a deep-seated trait of yours, Mr. Carver. Odd how these things can be transferred."
The door opened again.
"Dr. Minton!" Ron leaped to his feet.
The doctor's face went white behind the gray beard and moustache.
"Then you've found him," he said softly, to neither of them in particular.
"No," Ron Carver's body answered. "I didn't find him, doctor. Rather, he found us. Isn't that right, Mr. Carver?"