"I," said Horner, "am your husband."
She looked at him. She looked at the Hugh Horner body, unconscious, on the floor. She sobbed hysterically and Horner said:
"You're both coming with me, in your car."
"A murderer! You'll kill us."
"Janey, listen to me. That time in Jones Beach before we were married and the top of your bathing suit came off while we were swimming—"
It was something only she and the real Horner would know, but he had waited too long. He had been staring down at the unconscious Lionel Overman while he spoke, and when he looked up it was too late to ward off the green-glass pitcher which Jane was bringing down over his head. It exploded there.
So did the world—for Horner.
There was a buzzing. There was a roaring.
Horner opened his eyes. He was seated on the floor and his arms were bound. So were his legs. He looked across the foyer. Overman-in-Horner was similarly seated, similarly bound.