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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eye of Wilbur Mook, by H. B. Hickey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Eye of Wilbur Mook
+
+Author: H. B. Hickey
+
+Release Date: July 2, 2010 [EBook #33047]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EYE OF WILBUR MOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Karina Aleksandrova and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+    [Transcriber's Notes
+
+    1. This etext was produced from Amazing Stories November 1948.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+    3. Variations in spelling ("gray" vs. "grey") have been retained
+    as they appear in the original publication.
+
+    2. Obvious misprints were corrected. Full list of corrections made
+    is available at the end.]
+
+
+[Illustration: There was a cloud of smoke, a horrid visage, and Mook's
+legs grew weak beneath him.]
+
+
+
+
+The EYE of WILBUR MOOK
+
+by H. B. HICKEY
+
+
+"Wilbur!" his mother called. "Better get up or you'll be late for work!"
+
+Slowly but surely Wilbur Mook came out of his beautiful dream. And what
+a dream it was! He had Peter Bellows down and was busily punching his
+head. What a dream!
+
+Then his mother's voice pulled him away from Pete Bellows and dragged
+him back to reality. Wilbur opened one eye and looked at the clock on
+his bedside table. Its hand said eight o'clock.
+
+Wilbur flung off the covers and slid his bare feet into lamb's wool
+bedroom slippers. If he didn't hurry, Wilbur thought, he'd be late to
+work. At the thought of facing Pete Bellows' angry stare Wilbur
+shuddered. It was all right to dream, but real life was quite another
+thing.
+
+Quickly, he ran water into the washbowl and washed his hands and face.
+No time to shower or shave. Running his hand over his chin Wilbur found
+he didn't need a shave anyway. By skipping that operation he could get
+to the office early.
+
+[Illustration: When the world's most cowardly man met the world's
+bravest--history was changed]
+
+He took a moment to survey himself in the long mirror on the back of
+the bathroom door. "Every day in every way I am getting better and
+better," Wilbur muttered. Then he heard his mother's footsteps outside
+in the hall and he hurried to put on his robe. Just in time he got his
+head out of the way as the door swung inward.
+
+"You look nice this morning," Mrs. Mook said. "Now hurry before your
+breakfast gets cold."
+
+He did look pretty good, Wilbur admitted to himself as he looked again
+into the mirror. At twenty-five his skin was firm and healthy looking,
+his body straight and neither too thin nor too fat. His reddish-brown
+hair was free of dandruff, his blue eyes clear.
+
+Only one thing wrong with the picture. He had the soul of a rabbit. He
+was a coward. There was a tinge of desperation in his voice as he spoke
+again to his image in the mirror:
+
+"Every day in every way I am getting braver and braver."
+
+Unfortunately it was not true and Wilbur Mook knew it. And the only
+reason he was not growing more timid, Wilbur reflected miserably, was
+that such a thing lay outside the realm of possibility.
+
+What was even worse was the fact that everyone else knew it too. It
+could not have been more evident had Wilbur carried a sign. The only
+thing he could say was that his mother loved him anyway. Small
+consolation.
+
+"Read the paper on the streetcar," she said as she helped him into his
+coat. "And don't run. You know it upsets your stomach when you've just
+eaten breakfast."
+
+His breakfast had consisted, as always, of orange juice, one poached egg
+on toast and warm milk. Anything stronger than warm milk, Mrs. Mook had
+discovered, disturbed Wilbur no end.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he walked to the car Wilbur's mind went back over the dream. That was
+the stuff! And one of these days he was going to make that dream come
+true. Pete Bellows was going to find out a thing or two.
+
+"Whyncha look where you're goin'?" a shrill voice demanded.
+
+Wilbur stopped abruptly. In his trance-like state he had stepped on the
+heel of a twelve-year-old boy bound for school. The boy was glaring at
+him fiercely and Wilbur cringed.
+
+"I'm dreadfully sorry," he said, knowing that his face was losing color.
+
+"Yah!" the boy snarled. "Look where you're goin' and you won't have to
+be sorry."
+
+For a moment Wilbur feared the boy was going to hit him. Then a call
+came from down the street as another school-bound lad hove into sight,
+and the first one promptly forgot about Wilbur.
+
+Heaving a sigh of relief, Wilbur crossed gingerly to the safety island
+and waited for his car. When it came he found that all the seats were
+occupied but he discovered a vacant corner at the front and huddled
+there.
+
+Unfolding his paper carefully he scanned the world news and found it
+depressing. It always was, Wilbur thought. He turned to the sport pages
+for solace. That too was depressing, for it featured the doings of those
+public heroes who battered each other to a pulp for profit and applause.
+
+Not that Wilbur would have been unwilling to attend a prize fight. No
+indeed. He would have enjoyed it immensely, except that he could not
+stand the sight of men beating each other. And the blood! Even the
+thought of blood made him slightly ill.
+
+He turned quickly to the want ads. Those were always safe, sometimes
+even exciting. Today there was a man who needed a bodyguard. Wilbur
+reflected wistfully that he would have made a fine bodyguard, if only
+things were different.
+
+Actually he was a writer of greeting-card poetry, and as he swung off
+the car his mind was already busy on a poem for Mother's Day. All he
+needed was a good last line. So far it went:
+
+    "To the Mother so loving and tender,
+    On this day that is yours alone,
+    Homage I willingly render,
+    Ta ta-ta tum ta ta."
+
+The last line would come to him, Wilbur knew. It always did. In the
+meantime he nodded shyly to the elevator starter and found himself a
+place at the back of the car. It rose swiftly and his heart pounded.
+
+What if it should stop suddenly between floors? There was a beautiful
+girl standing next to Wilbur and he thought how fear would flood her
+face. That was the time when a cool and confident voice could avert
+panic. But Wilbur was aware that there was more chance that the voice
+would be the girl's rather than his.
+
+His mind went back to the last line of the ditty he had been composing.
+He almost had it, then it was gone. He bit down on his tongue in
+concentration, unaware that he was staring at the girl next to him.
+
+"My devotion you'll always own," Wilbur murmured.
+
+"On such short acquaintance?" the girl smiled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wilbur turned pink, then red. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant it
+that way, and he found himself wishing he had. She was the kind of girl
+he sometimes dreamed about, tall and not too thin, with golden hair and
+gray eyes in which flecks of color danced.
+
+"I meant my mother," Wilbur managed at last.
+
+"How sweet. Now would you mind getting out of my way?"
+
+Wilbur looked down and found that he had somehow managed to walk from
+the elevator to his office without knowing it. He had his hand on the
+doorknob.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he mumbled, and flung the door open in what he
+hoped was a gallant gesture.
+
+There was a crash as the door swung inward for a few feet and stopped.
+The crash was immediately followed by a howl of pain. A moment later
+Pete Bellows' flushed and furious face came around the side of the door.
+He was rubbing his head.
+
+"Mook, you idiot!" Bellows roared. "I ought to punch your nose for
+this!"
+
+"He didn't know your head was in the way," the girl said.
+
+"Huh?" Bellows grunted. He took a good look at the girl and the anger
+drained from his face. Without thinking he straightened his tie and
+slicked back his oily black hair.
+
+"You must be Miss Burnett, the girl the agency said they were sending,"
+Bellows murmured in his most dulcet tones. "Well, well, Wilbur, this is
+my new secretary."
+
+"But how do you know I'll do?" Miss Burnett said, startled.
+
+"Oh, you'll do. I just know you will," Bellows told her. "You and I are
+going to get along just dandy."
+
+"My shorthand is a little rusty," the girl said.
+
+"What's a little thing like that?" Bellows laughed, ignoring the fact
+that he had fired his last secretary because she had misspelled an
+eight-syllable word.
+
+But the last secretary had worn thick glasses, Wilbur recalled. That
+would make a difference to Pete Bellows. He was suddenly aware that
+Bellows was frowning at him.
+
+"Get to work, Mook," Bellows said cheerfully. "Mother's Day is coming,
+you know."
+
+With what he pretended was a gentle pat on the back Bellows flung Wilbur
+toward the tiny cubicle he occupied at the rear of the large office.
+Once Bellows had played tackle on a football team and although he was
+beefier now he was still very strong. Wilbur almost went through the
+thin partition.
+
+He bounced off and recovered his balance, then went into his cubicle
+through the door. It was a windowless hole, lit by a single small bulb.
+Wilbur worked at an old table which was neatly stacked with sheets of
+blank paper. He furnished his own pen.
+
+There was a small window in Wilbur's door, but contrary to what a
+visitor might have expected, it had not been placed there for Wilbur's
+convenience. The window was the means by which Bellows could watch his
+poet and be certain that he was working every minute of the time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Today Wilbur found himself at a loss for rhymes. By mid-morning he had
+completed only fifteen poems in praise of Mother. He still had some
+fifty to go. But instead of writing he too often caught himself
+listening to what was going on in the outer office.
+
+"Mr. Bellows--" the new girl started to say.
+
+"Call me Pete," Wilbur heard Bellows tell her. "I'll call you Jean. Just
+one happy family, you know, you and I and Wilbur."
+
+"Does Mr. Mook write all the poetry?" Miss Burnett wanted to know. She
+sounded quite impressed and Wilbur glowed with a new found pride.
+
+"Just a knack. Doesn't take any brains," Bellows deprecated. "Any fool
+could do it."
+
+I'd like to see you try, Wilbur thought. You're one fool who couldn't.
+He thought that was pretty good repartee, even if it was only mental.
+Wilbur wished he had the nerve to say the words to Bellows' face. But he
+didn't.
+
+His newspaper, still folded to the classified ads, reposed in Wilbur's
+wastebasket and his eyes chanced to fall upon it. Something stirred in
+Wilbur. There had been one advertisement in particular. Just below the
+request for a bodyguard. He wondered if he had read it right.
+
+Keeping one eye on the window to make sure Bellows did not observe him,
+Wilbur retrieved his newspaper. Quickly his eye sped down the column.
+There it was:
+
+     Are you timid? Do you lack confidence? I can help you. A. J. Merlin,
+     136 W. Erie St.
+
+Wilbur shook his head and dropped the newspaper into the wastebasket. He
+was rather inclined to think A. J. Merlin was overestimating his powers.
+Probably a fake, anyway. Most of those fellows were.
+
+Looking out of his window, Wilbur saw Bellows patting Jean on the
+shoulder as he explained something to her. He was a fast worker, was
+Pete Bellows. By the time Wilbur got the next line of poetry written
+Bellows was asking Jean if he could take her to lunch.
+
+Before answering she turned her head toward Wilbur and he could see that
+she was none too happy about the offer. She seemed to be trying to think
+of a good reason for not accepting.
+
+"Well?" Pete asked. Jean looked back at him.
+
+"I--I guess so," Wilbur heard her say. Bellows patted her on the
+shoulder again.
+
+I wonder, Wilbur thought, what she would say if I asked her sometime?
+That looked like a question which would never find an answer. It would
+take more nerve than he had to ask. But the very thought of him inviting
+a girl like Jean to lunch sent a pleasant tingle down Wilbur's back. He
+even allowed himself to think that she might prefer a smoother type of
+man than Pete Bellows. Smoother, Wilbur reminded himself miserably, not
+mushier.
+
+Just before noon Pete Bellows came in to get the copy Wilbur had turned
+out through the morning. At the sight of the tiny stack which had
+accumulated Bellows' mouth turned down.
+
+"Loafing!" he accused. "Just because I've been too busy to keep my eyes
+on you!"
+
+It occurred to Wilbur that the only thing he'd seen Pete do that morning
+was pat Jean's shoulder, and that hardly seemed like hard work. But he
+didn't say anything.
+
+"Probably reading the paper while my back was turned," Pete went on. He
+reached down and got the paper and put it in his pocket. "Now, listen to
+me, Mook. You'd better have some work done when Jean and I get back from
+lunch!"
+
+Wilbur nodded without looking up at him. He was always afraid to look at
+Bellows when the burly man was angry. Pete could get a vicious glint in
+his eye. After Pete had left the cubicle Wilbur sneaked a look after
+him. He saw that Jean had heard the whole thing. And at sight of the
+distaste on her face he flushed.
+
+Why couldn't he have told Pete off? Wilbur started to dream about what
+he should have said. Then he stopped. It was all right to daydream but
+Pete had sounded sore when he had said he wanted to see some work done.
+Wilbur put his head down and started writing.
+
+Within the hour he had completed six odes to Mother. One of them, Wilbur
+knew, he could sell to a magazine for twenty times what Bellows would
+pay. For a moment he was tempted, even going so far as to pick up the
+sheet of paper preparatory to putting it in his pocket. Then he thought
+of what Pete Bellows might do if he found out. Wilbur set the paper back
+on the pile.
+
+He was just in time. There were footsteps out in the hall and then the
+door swung open. Bellows and Jean came in. The girl was laughing now,
+and as Pete helped her off with her coat he was practically breathing
+down her neck. It looked as though he had made some progress.
+
+"Is it all right if I go to lunch now?" Wilbur asked timidly. He had to
+wait until Pete had checked over his work. Then he got permission to go.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Until he was outside Wilbur felt hungry. For an hour his stomach had
+been reminding him that it was time to eat. But suddenly the pangs of
+hunger were gone. The thought of food was even unpleasant.
+
+Maybe a short walk would give him fresh appetite, Wilbur thought. The
+day was pleasant and sunny. If he spent a half hour walking he would
+still have twenty minutes in which to gulp a sandwich. Pete Bellows had
+decreed that fifty minutes constituted a lunch hour for Wilbur.
+
+It was with no conscious motive that Wilbur headed south. He found
+himself walking at a gait much faster than his usual one, but attributed
+that to the fine weather which he assured himself was exhilarating.
+Before he realized how fast he was going he had covered a dozen blocks.
+
+The neighborhood had changed. Behind him lay the business district with
+its skyscrapers. All about him were the sagging and unsightly houses of
+a once fine residential neighborhood which had deteriorated into a slum
+area. The only places which seemed at all cared for were the rooming
+houses.
+
+A poem of protest rose in Wilbur's breast, and was stilled as he became
+aware that he was on Erie street. The street had some meaning for him
+but it took several minutes before he realized why. Then he gasped. Only
+two doors from where he stood was 136 West Erie Street!
+
+For a long time Wilbur stood looking at the house. It was an old red
+brick structure three stories high. The upper two floors appeared
+untenanted. If they were not, the occupants must have liked fresh air
+for there were no windows.
+
+Wilbur directed his attention to the first floor. The windows there were
+too dusty to see through, but at least there were windows. A fat grey
+cat sunned itself on the window ledge and regarded Wilbur with
+unblinking eyes. He shuddered and had to summon all his courage to climb
+the stairs and look at the card nailed to the front door. A. J. Merlin,
+the card said, in an unusual script that Wilbur had trouble deciphering.
+
+He raised his hand to knock, then changed his mind. But as he was
+turning away he heard the door open.
+
+"Looking for me, bub?" a creaking voice said. Wilbur turned around.
+
+He found himself face to face with an old gentleman wrapped in what
+appeared to be a blue dressing gown with white stars all over it. The
+old man had a wisp of a beard and white eyebrows that slanted way up at
+the outside corners. He was wearing on his head a blue dunce cap which
+also had white stars on it.
+
+"Are you-uh-Mr. A. J. Merlin?" Wilbur stammered. "I mean the Mr. Merlin
+who gives people confidence?"
+
+"I might be," the old man said cagily.
+
+He stared down at Wilbur, and for the first time Wilbur noticed the old
+man had eyes as black and mysterious as a pool on a dark night. Those
+eyes regarded Wilbur, noting his size, weight and general construction.
+
+"Bah," the old man snorted. "You won't do. Not timid enough."
+
+"Yes, sir," Wilbur chattered. He started backward down the stairs and
+almost fell.
+
+"Wait a minute," the creaky voice ordered.
+
+Wilbur halted in mid-step. The black eyes regarded him. A hand tipped by
+long, curving fingernails stroked the wisp of a beard.
+
+"On the other hand," the old man said, "you might be more timid than you
+look. Come on in."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wilbur trailed after him down a long dark hallway that was musty with
+age. At the end of the hall was an equally musty room, sparsely
+furnished with sagging and broken odds and ends. It was not the
+furniture which engaged Wilbur's attention, but the other features of
+the place.
+
+On an ancient stand a sun-dial reposed, and next to it a large and
+milk-white glass ball. Near the stand a tripod stood over a sheet of
+metal on which a small fire blazed, and from the tripod a kettle was
+suspended. Something bubbled in the kettle, something that gave off a
+strange and noxious odor.
+
+Around the room jugs were scattered, and as Wilbur caught sight of the
+labels a chill ran up his back. There were such unusual items as
+_Essence of Dried Toad_, _Basilisk Oil_, _Chimera's Breath-Distilled_.
+
+"Sit down," A. J. Merlin said suddenly. Wilbur sat down with such
+abruptness that he almost went through an ancient sofa to the floor.
+Merlin's eyes lit up.
+
+"You really are timid," he said.
+
+"Yes, sir," Wilbur agreed hastily. "Do you think you can help me?"
+
+"Depends. It isn't my regular line. I came here looking for a special
+kind of person. If you're that person you can help me. In return I'll do
+the same for you. All depends on how cowardly you are."
+
+"I've never been brave about anything in my life," Wilbur said
+truthfully.
+
+He went on in detail. In a short history of his life he made it clear
+that he was a complete and abject coward. He was afraid of anything that
+walked or swam or flew, no matter how small. He was afraid of dark
+rooms. A dirty look made him tremble.
+
+"Perfect," Merlin breathed. He rubbed his taloned hands together. "Not a
+shred of courage in you."
+
+"Is that good?" Wilbur gasped.
+
+Merlin smiled, and with his smile his eyebrows slanted more than ever.
+His ears were suddenly elongated.
+
+"Ordinarily not," he said. Wilbur had a hunch that this time there would
+be nothing extraordinary to alter the case.
+
+"I've tried everything," he told Merlin. "I've gone to psychologists,
+read books, even tried Yoga. Nothing helps."
+
+"Naturally," Merlin said. "I'll tell you why: Everyone is a mixture of
+traits handed down from his ancestors. Somewhere in every man's ancestry
+is a brave person. Even if that bravery is hidden, it's still there, and
+it can be brought out."
+
+"What happened to me?" Wilbur wanted to know.
+
+"You got cheated," Merlin said as though he were immensely pleased. "You
+got only half the traits, and they were the cowardly ones. That's why
+you couldn't be cured. There was no bravery in you to be brought out."
+
+"Oh," Wilbur gulped. "I guess I'd better be going." He started to rise.
+
+"Sit down," Merlin said. Wilbur plunked back into the sofa. He watched
+Merlin walk to the stand and lift the glass ball. The old man peered
+into the ball and its color changed to rose, then purple. Something was
+going on inside it but Wilbur couldn't see what.
+
+"Who's this fellow Pete Bellows?" Merlin wanted to know.
+
+Wilbur was astonished. He hadn't mentioned Pete's name. When he told the
+old man who Pete was Merlin chuckled.
+
+"Thinks he's quite a man with the ladies, doesn't he? I'll fix him."
+
+Merlin made a pass over the glass ball and muttered a few words which
+Wilbur didn't catch. There was a sudden thump, clearly audible to
+Wilbur, and Merlin chuckled gleefully.
+
+"What happened?" Wilbur asked.
+
+"The door opened just as he was going by and he walked into the edge of
+it. He's got a black eye."
+
+"Good-bye," Wilbur said. The hair on the back of his neck was standing
+on end as he moved toward the door of the room.
+
+"Come back here," Merlin commanded. "You want me to make you brave,
+don't you?"
+
+Wilbur's mind whirled. He had fallen into the hands of this old madman
+and now he didn't know how to get away. Who knew what might happen to
+him? He had to think of something.
+
+"What do you charge?" he asked. No matter what Merlin said Wilbur was
+prepared to say he didn't have that much. In no way was he prepared for
+Merlin's words.
+
+"Your right eye."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A cold sweat formed on Wilbur Mook's brow. His teeth chattered. Down at
+his little toe a tremor started and worked its way up along his spine.
+The roof of his mouth turned dry as dust and his throat was parched.
+
+"I haven't got it," he choked. Because he had been ready to say that he
+had said it automatically. Too late he realized it was the wrong answer.
+
+"Don't be a fool," Merlin told him sternly. "Wouldn't you rather be a
+one-eyed hero than a two-eyed coward?"
+
+"No," Wilbur said.
+
+Merlin glared at him balefully and Wilbur quailed and cringed. What sort
+of nightmare had he wandered into? He would gladly have given everything
+he owned to be back in the office. Even Pete Bellows was better than
+this maniac!
+
+"Could I please go, Mr. Merlin?" Wilbur begged. "I'll be late if I
+don't. Pete will be sore."
+
+"Tell you what I'll do," Merlin said, in a manner of one offering an
+added incentive. "You let me have your right eye and I'll see to it that
+Bellows falls down the stairs and breaks his neck."
+
+He picked up the glass ball again and Wilbur felt himself grow faint.
+Now he was certain that this old man was not only a maniac but a
+_homicidal_ maniac!
+
+"Wouldn't anything but my right eye do?" he asked plaintively.
+
+"I don't think so, but I'll look it up," Merlin said. Out of the folds
+of his white-starred gown he drew a book. Wetting his index finger,
+Merlin turned pages until he came to the one he wanted.
+
+"_Elixir of Caution_," Merlin read aloud. "One part _Fawn's Breath_, one
+part _Dove's Heart-Dried_, one part _Tears of Despair_, and _Right Eye
+of Complete Coward_. Simmer for one hour with proper incantations."
+
+"But I'm cautious enough already!" Wilbur protested. He got to his feet
+hopefully. "Well, I guess this has been a mistake. I'd better be running
+along."
+
+Merlin regarded him with a steady eye and Wilbur wished he could divine
+what was going on behind those black and glittering orbs. Maybe Merlin
+was going to let him go. From the way Merlin was nodding his head it
+seemed that way.
+
+"Very well," the old man said. "But we must have a drink together."
+
+"Oh, I never drink," Wilbur assured him virtuously. Merlin waved aside
+the protest.
+
+"Nothing stronger than tea," he said.
+
+He went to a far corner of the room and lifted a small vial which was
+made of some material that shimmered irridescently. Wilbur watched
+fascinated as Merlin poured a small amount of a smoky liquid from the
+vial into a pair of tiny cups.
+
+"Are you sure this isn't strong?" Wilbur asked as Merlin handed him one
+of the cups. Inside the cup the strange liquid bubbled, and from its
+surface a fine vapor rose.
+
+"No." That was all. Then Merlin went to the sun-dial on the stand and
+turned it around several times. When he had adjusted it to his
+satisfaction he turned back to Wilbur and lifted his cup.
+
+"Here's how," Merlin said.
+
+Wilbur lifted his cup to his lips and drank. Merlin was right. The
+liquid seemed no stronger than tea. In fact it tasted much like tea,
+except that it had a smoky flavor, not at all unpleasant.
+
+"Thank you," he said politely, and started for the door. But he had no
+more than started than he turned back and sat down again.
+
+It was a strange feeling which assailed Wilbur Mook. His legs seemed
+weak, yet through the rest of him a strength flowed which was like
+liquid fire. Then there came a giddiness. His head was feather light.
+
+Merlin receded, not walking but floating back and back. And as his
+figure drifted away from Wilbur it grew strangely taller. The eyebrows
+were more slanted than ever and the ears were longer and more pointed.
+And as Merlin's figure grew larger it began to dissolve.
+
+Now Wilbur's entire body seemed as light as air to him. It felt as
+though he too could float if he tried. He saw, as through a haze and at
+a great distance, Merlin bending over the kettle which hung from the
+tripod.
+
+From inside his flowing gown Merlin produced a wand and a packet. Out of
+the packet drifted a fine white powder into the kettle. There was a wave
+of the wand, and out of the kettle poured a thick black smoke which
+filled the room until there was nothing but blackness.
+
+Wilbur's ears were filled with a roaring. He felt himself lifted and
+whirled. Around and around he whirled, and faster and faster. He was
+being sucked into a vortex, pulled down into a black tunnel that was
+endless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Somewhere nearby there was a crowd of people. Wilbur knew that because
+he could hear the murmur of many voices. But when he opened his eyes he
+found himself in a forest glade. The sun was bright overhead and on a
+limb above him a bird sang.
+
+He shook himself and looked around. He was not alone. Only a few feet
+away stood Merlin, still wearing his blue robe and his conical hat. He
+nodded when he saw that Wilbur was awake.
+
+"How do you feel?" the old man asked.
+
+"Fine, thank you," Wilbur answered without thinking.
+
+It was when he looked down at his body that he sucked in his breath. Not
+only was he no longer in that musty room, but he no longer wore his own
+clothes! His body was encased in a gown of brown monk's cloth!
+
+"Your clothes would have been out of place here," Merlin told him,
+guessing what Wilbur thought.
+
+"But--where am I?"
+
+"Near Camelot," Merlin said. "Better get up now. We haven't much time."
+
+Wilbur got to his feet slowly, his eyes darting about. If he saw a
+chance he would make a run for it. But Merlin's hand was like a claw on
+the sleeve of Wilbur's robe.
+
+"You try to run and I'll put a curse on you that will fix you
+permanently," the old man whispered hoarsely.
+
+Wilbur followed him like a lamb to the slaughter. They took a path that
+led out of the glade and to a road only a few yards away. Ten yards or
+so down the road they came on the crowd whose voices Wilbur had heard.
+His hair stood on end.
+
+They were before the doors of an ancient church. And in the cleared
+space before those doors milled a strange throng. Men on foot wore robes
+of the plain monk's cloth and carried wooden staves. Towering above them
+were mounted men, men dressed in hauberks and doublets of chain mail.
+All of them had their eyes fixed on something in the center of the
+crowd.
+
+Then someone caught sight of Merlin and his name was whispered. As by
+magic the people parted to let him and Wilbur through. For the first
+time Wilbur saw what they had been staring at. It was a rough block of
+stone, and buried to the hilt in the stone was a sword!
+
+"Merlin," a voice said, a voice that was heavy and assured.
+
+Wilbur looked up and shrank away from the armored giant on horseback who
+towered over him and the old man. The giant raised the visor of his
+helmet and Wilbur beheld a face that was as cruel as a hawk's. Dark
+eyes gleamed from beneath black and bristling brows.
+
+"What mummery is this?" the dark man asked.
+
+"No mummery, but the good bishop's prayer answered," Merlin said calmly.
+"Is not the stone inscribed, Sir Kay?"
+
+"Inscribed," Sir Kay echoed. "And its message is that he who withdraws
+the sword shall be king of England."
+
+His scowl made Wilbur's knees weaken, but Merlin remained unaffected. In
+fact the old man seemed quite cheerful.
+
+"Excalibur it is called," Merlin said. "He who wrenches it free shall
+rule."
+
+"Hear me," Sir Kay grated. "If this be one of your tricks, know this:
+none but a son of Uther Pendragon will reign."
+
+For a moment Wilbur forgot the two. He had caught sight of the
+inscription of the stone and was reading it. Apparently it was meant to
+be a poem but it did not rhyme. On the spot Wilbur produced what he
+thought was a better one. He tried it out, not realizing he spoke aloud.
+
+    "Who from this stone Excalibur draws
+    Shall be England's king and make her laws."
+
+Sir Kay frowned blackly and his hand hovered near a dagger at his side.
+
+"What have you to do with this, varlet?" he demanded.
+
+"He is but a troubadour," Merlin interjected quickly. "A bard who will
+sing your praises after the tourney."
+
+"I had forgotten the tourney," Sir Kay grunted. "But see you forget not
+my warning."
+
+He reined away, knocking people aside like tenpins. Behind him the other
+knights followed, and after them went the common people. In a few
+minutes Wilbur and Merlin found themselves alone. In the distance, and
+in the direction the crowd had vanished, Wilbur saw the towers of a
+medieval castle.
+
+"Camelot," Merlin told him.
+
+"I don't like this," Wilbur said. "That fellow looked as though he
+wanted to slit my throat."
+
+"Yours wouldn't be the first one he's slit," Merlin said. "But you stay
+close to me and you'll be safe enough. Although I must admit that Kay
+has become quite a problem since his father died."
+
+"Is he a son of Uther Pendragon?"
+
+"Why do you think he insists that none but Uther's sons may rule?"
+Merlin snarled. "But with a king like him we'd have nothing but corpses
+around. That's why I needed you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wilbur was bewildered, but not completely baffled. It had become
+painfully clear to him that Merlin had found him, not vice versa. The
+advertisement in the paper had been a trick to lure a timid man. But
+there was still a little clearing up to be done.
+
+"Would you please explain what I have to do with all this?" Wilbur asked
+plaintively. Merlin clawed gently at his beard and shrugged.
+
+"I suppose it would be only fair, after abducting you from the twentieth
+century and dragging you back here. The point is this: after Uther died
+there was a squabble over who should be king. We couldn't stand a civil
+war so the bishop of this church prayed for a sign, and the next day
+this stone and sword were found here. So far nobody has been able to
+pull it out."
+
+"You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" Wilbur asked
+naively.
+
+"I'm not saying. Anyway, Sir Kay is the logical man for the job, except
+that he's too quick with his blade. That left only one other, and he's
+got his fault too."
+
+Wilbur was thinking about his right eye. A little flattery might go a
+long way.
+
+"I should think you would make a good king, Mr. Merlin."
+
+"My father was an incubus," Merlin said, as though that explained
+everything. He peered down the road as the sound of hoofs reached them.
+
+Wilbur followed Merlin's gaze and saw a young man on horseback coming
+toward them from the direction of Camelot. The young fellow wore a shirt
+of mail but no helmet, and his horse was not armored. Merlin held up his
+hand and the mounted man drew rein. Wilbur got a good look at him.
+
+He was almost as big as Sir Kay, but with a fair complexion and light
+hair. He could not have been much over fifteen, despite his size. His
+manner was easy, giving the suggestion of enormous strength in reserve,
+yet with a hint of gentleness. But it was his eyes which were his
+outstanding feature. They were a clear brown, wide, and with an
+expression of complete fearlessness.
+
+"Where to, Arthur?" Merlin asked.
+
+"My brother Kay has broken his sword. I must get him another."
+
+"Tarry a moment," Merlin said. "I have a question which troubles me. The
+enemies of our land march against us, and they outnumber us five to one.
+Were you king, what would you do?"
+
+Arthur laughed, a clear ringing laugh that showed rows of white teeth.
+His brown eyes glowed with an inward fire.
+
+"Do? I would take the field against them, of course! Even though they
+outnumber us fifty to one."
+
+Wilbur thrilled to the words. But Merlin shuddered slightly and Wilbur
+heard a faint groan of distress come from his lips.
+
+"Got here in the nick of time," the old man muttered. He looked up at
+Arthur and said aloud: "You may have your chance. But first you must
+make me a promise. You must come to my castle this very night and drink
+the draught I shall prepare for you."
+
+"I promise," Arthur said unthinkingly. "And now I'll be getting that
+sword for Kay."
+
+"This looks like a good one," Merlin said. He pointed to the sword in
+the stone.
+
+"It does indeed," Arthur agreed. Without a second look he bent and
+seized the hilt and wrenched it free. He raised the sword in a salute to
+Merlin and Wilbur, laughed his ringing carefree laugh, and was gone in a
+cloud of dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Merlin's castle was not overly large, and as far as Wilbur could see
+after he got inside, most of it was under ground. He and the old man
+were in a great damp chamber, the walls of which were solid rock. The
+room was filled with Merlin's jugs, with tripods from which boiling
+kettles hung, and with great black cats which prowled everywhere. The
+door was of solid oak and immovable. Wilbur knew; he had tried it once
+when Merlin had gone out.
+
+At the moment Merlin and he were sitting facing each other on a pair of
+stone couches. They had been sitting so for some hours and the silence
+was wearing Wilbur down.
+
+"So Arthur is going to be king," he said at last, in an effort to start
+a conversation. "He looks like a fine boy."
+
+"He is," Merlin agreed. "Chivalrous and all that. It was foreordained.
+That's why I had to get back. I knew he was going to be along that road
+today, and I knew he was going to pull out that sword."
+
+"I thought you said he had a fault."
+
+"What a fault," Merlin sighed. "He's got your trouble, but in reverse.
+He was born without fear. It's a bad thing for a king to be like that.
+He'd lead his people into sure death. You heard what he said this
+afternoon. Even odds of fifty to one mean nothing to him."
+
+For the first time Wilbur saw the whole thing. Until now he had
+entertained a faint hope that Merlin might not really want his eye. But
+this was the clincher. The _Elixir of Caution_! Desperately he cast
+about for a means of escape. There was none. And Merlin was watching him
+with an eagle eye.
+
+"Maybe," Wilbur offered weakly, "a few drops of my blood would do the
+trick. You don't want Arthur to get _too_ timid."
+
+"Nice of you to think of it," Merlin said. "But I really couldn't fool
+with that recipe."
+
+Wilbur wished with all his heart that he had the courage to put up some
+kind of fight. Merlin was an old and feeble man. But he knew his
+genetics. Wilbur had been born without a gene of courage. Wilbur rubbed
+his right eye, the one he would soon be without, and felt tears well up.
+His last glimmer of hope was borne on a sigh.
+
+"Maybe he won't come."
+
+"He'll come all right. Arthur never breaks a promise. That's one of his
+best points. What I'm trying to do is see to it that he isn't so rash
+about making them in the first place."
+
+It seemed that Merlin was right, for just then there came to their ears
+the sound of iron shod hoofs in the courtyard above their heads. The
+ceiling trembled slightly and a drop of water fell on Wilbur's head.
+Then footsteps clattered down a long flight of stairs and the door swung
+open. It was Arthur, and from his appearance it was plain he had been in
+a fight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From a cut alongside his temple blood dripped. His shirt of mail had
+been pierced at the left shoulder and blood glistened redly there. Some
+had trickled down and lay in beads like rubies on the gleaming mail. His
+face was streaked with sweat and dirt and his hair lay in wet clumps,
+and he was breathing hard.
+
+"What happened?" Merlin asked quickly. Arthur let out a laugh and his
+eyes glowed fierce.
+
+"A band of varlets tried to ambush me on my way here. Had I not been in
+so great a hurry to keep my appointment with you I'd have brought you
+some heads on Excalibur's point."
+
+He held up the great sword and Wilbur turned faint at the sight of the
+gore along its blade. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes rolled
+upward.
+
+"Wipe that blade before this one perishes of fright," Merlin said
+quickly. Then he became solicitous. "Are you sore wounded?"
+
+"There were only ten," Arthur laughed. "They were too busy defending
+their lives to do me much harm. Now, where is that drink you invited me
+here for?"
+
+"It will take a while to prepare," Merlin said. He busied himself with a
+kettle and some jugs and powders.
+
+Wilbur was turning a pale green from fright. He had to think of
+something. Suddenly he turned to Arthur.
+
+"You won't like this drink," he whispered urgently. "It may even poison
+you!"
+
+Arthur stared down at him. "Even so I needs must drink it. I have given
+my word. A promise may not be broken."
+
+Merlin was coming toward them now and Wilbur saw that the old man held
+in his hand an instrument which looked like a surgeon's scalpel. He let
+out a shriek of terror and would have run had his legs not been
+paralyzed.
+
+"What is this womanly fright?" Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose.
+
+"I need his right eye to make the _Elixir of Caution_," Merlin
+explained. He laid a claw on Wilbur's shoulder and it was like the hand
+of doom.
+
+"Yeeow!" Wilbur howled. He began to babble. "You lied to me! You said
+you'd make me brave! False pretenses!"
+
+He stopped abruptly. Merlin's hand had fallen from his shoulder. There
+was a sudden silence that grew thick and ominous. Looking up fearfully,
+Wilbur saw that Arthur had fixed Merlin with a hostile glare.
+
+"Did you so promise?" Arthur demanded. He stood straight and regal.
+"Answer me, and forget not I am your king."
+
+Merlin's hands made feeble and apologetic gestures.
+
+"What could I do?" he pleaded. "One like him is born seldom. I had
+searched the centuries, and there was no more time."
+
+He turned to Wilbur and his face betrayed an apprehension that made
+Wilbur's hopes rise. Arthur did not act like he would stand for any
+promise-breaking among his subjects.
+
+"Tell you what I could do," Merlin said. "I could put your eye back when
+I'm through with it. In fact, that's a promise."
+
+"Will that make him brave?" Arthur demanded.
+
+"Well...." Merlin hesitated. Arthur's finger slid suggestively along the
+blade of his sword.
+
+"I'll look it up," the old man finished hurriedly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His hand dipped beneath his robe and came out with the ancient book. A
+long nailed finger ran through the pages. There was a pause, and then
+Merlin began to mumble.
+
+"_Elixir of Fortitude_: One part _Eagle's Heart-Dried_, one part _Lion's
+Breath-Distilled_, one part _Essence of Steel_, hm-m-m." His voice
+trailed off in a hum, then picked up again. "Simmer for one hour.
+_Caution_: MUST BE FINISHED BEFORE MIDNIGHT."
+
+"Well?" Arthur said.
+
+"I've got everything except the last ingredient," Merlin said unhappily.
+Suddenly his face lit up. "We'd better hurry. There is only an hour and
+a half left."
+
+He scurried to a bottle which hung on the wall and brought it back to
+Wilbur. "Drink some quickly. You will feel no pain." When Wilbur had
+gulped some down Merlin took the bottle and handed it to Arthur. "You
+too."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Above their heads there was a rumbling and the pounding of hoofs in the
+courtyard. Quickly Merlin ran to the oak door and slammed it shut. He
+seemed to be expecting trouble. It turned out he was right again.
+
+More than one pair of feet was on the stone stairway. Loud voices
+shouted, "Open up!" Wilbur recognized one of the voices and he groaned.
+Then bodies were hurled against the door.
+
+It held against the first assault, and against the second. The third
+time there was a splintering of wood. Wilbur held his breath. A hinge
+had torn loose. Once more there was the crash of armored bodies against
+the oak and the door flew inward. Sir Kay was inside in a flash, and
+behind him came five more. The dark man's eyes lit on Wilbur.
+
+"So, varlet!" Kay bellowed hoarsely. "My suspicion was right. You are in
+the plot against me!"
+
+Without waiting for a denial he flung himself at Wilbur and his sword
+swished through the air. How he managed it Wilbur never knew, but he
+ducked in time. The flat of Kay's sword caught him a glancing blow on
+the head and knocked him off the stone bench.
+
+Then the great room was filled with the clash of steel as Arthur went
+into action. Out of eyes that were glassy Wilbur saw him decapitate two
+men with a single stroke. Another fell dead before he could raise his
+shield. The other two fled with Kay's curses following them. Only
+Arthur's brother was left.
+
+"Yield," Arthur warned grimly. Kay's reply turned Wilbur's ears red. The
+two went at it. For a few minutes it was an even battle, and then
+suddenly both swords came together with a force that drew sparks. Kay
+was left with only a hilt in his hand.
+
+What happened next Wilbur hardly knew. There was a clang as something
+bounced on the stone floor, and a great round object that looked like a
+helmet rolled past him.
+
+"Quickly now," Wilbur heard Merlin say. "There is barely the hour left
+to us."
+
+Wilbur could hear but he could see nothing. There was a black veil over
+his eyes. Powerful arms lifted him and laid him on the stone bench. Then
+there was the sound of bottles being emptied into kettles. Wilbur heard
+feet approach him but he was too sleepy to care. Something touched his
+eye but he felt no pain.
+
+In his dazed state time passed quickly for him. There was always the
+scuffling of Merlin's feet, and now and again the old man's creaky voice
+rose in weird incantations. Then something hot was pressed against
+Wilbur's lips.
+
+"Drink," Merlin said. Wilbur opened his mouth and felt a hot liquid gush
+down his throat.
+
+"I want my eye," Wilbur mumbled.
+
+"Don't worry," Merlin told him. "I'm getting it."
+
+He was taking his time about it, Wilbur thought. He could hear a great
+stirring going on. There were muffled curses and he heard something
+bouncing on the floor.
+
+"Darn stuff is so thick I can't tell them apart," Merlin was muttering.
+
+"Hurry!" Arthur called. "The cock crows midnight!"
+
+"I'm doing my best," Merlin said. He was breathing hard as he bent over
+Wilbur. There was a quick pressure against Wilbur's eye socket and
+Merlin grunted triumphantly.
+
+"There!" the old man said. "I've kept my promise. Now I'm going to send
+you back where I found you, and good riddance. You've been nothing but
+trouble."
+
+Again something hot was poured down Wilbur's throat. It had a familiar
+taste, a sort of smoky flavor. Liquid fire coursed through his veins, he
+felt his body grow light and buoyant, he was floating. Then he was being
+sucked down into a black vortex and through a Stygian passage. The
+passage seemed endless but it was not, and at the end was a tiny hole of
+light which grew steadily larger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wilbur found himself on a sagging porch, before a door that leaned on
+sprung hinges. His head ached, and raising his hand he ran it along his
+scalp until he found a large bump. He rolled his eyes upward as though
+to see where he had been hurt. All he saw was a jagged hole in the porch
+roof. At his feet was a chunk of plaster.
+
+It took a minute for the realization to filter through that he was
+standing on the porch of 136 W. Erie Street. Wilbur recalled walking up
+the stairs. After that everything was a blur. He scrutinized the door.
+There was no card bearing the name of A. J. Merlin. In fact, there was no
+card at all!
+
+"Hey, mister," a boy's voice called. Wilbur turned around and saw a
+tattered urchin regarding him gravely. "Ain't nobody lived in that house
+for years," the boy said. "It's haunted."
+
+Wilbur shuddered and at the same instant became aware of a peculiar
+phenomenon. He seemed to be seeing the boy through only one eye. The
+other was strangely blurred. Wilbur pulled out his handkershief and
+wiped his right eye. His vision improved but as he moved toward the head
+of the stairs he swayed slightly.
+
+"You get hurt or something?" the boy asked as Wilbur came toward him.
+Wilbur rubbed his head.
+
+"I'm all right," Wilbur told him. He said it partly to reassure himself.
+
+He looked at his wrist watch and found he had only twenty minutes to get
+back to work. That was puzzling. There was a lapse of time. Being a man
+of imagination, Wilbur reflected that if he had actually been in the
+past he would not have used up any time in the present.
+
+On the other hand, it was more probable that he had been hit on the head
+by falling plaster and had incurred a slight lapse of consciousness,
+memory, or both. He was inclined to accept that explanation.
+
+At any rate he was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and Pete Bellows
+would be mad as a hornet. Wilbur speeded up his pace. Then he slowed
+down again. If anyone should be angry it was himself. He had missed his
+lunch.
+
+Riding up in the elevator Wilbur checked his watch again and found he
+was only five minutes late. In his working life that represented two
+lines of doggerel. It didn't seem like much to get excited about. But
+Pete Bellows didn't see it that way.
+
+"Mook!" he roared, as Wilbur came through the door. "You're late!"
+
+If he had expected Wilbur to fall into his usual fit of trembling he was
+disappointed. Wilbur was staring at him.
+
+"Your eye!" Wilbur gasped. Pete's left eye was swollen half shut and had
+a blue ring around it.
+
+"He walked into the door," Miss Burnett said. "Honest."
+
+Wilbur smiled at her. She was a very pretty girl. Too pretty to be
+working for a wolf like Pete Bellows. Wilbur had a notion to tell her
+so.
+
+"I said you're late, Mook," Pete told him ominously.
+
+"So what?" Wilbur asked quietly. "If you don't like it you can fire me.
+In fact, considering that you find so much fault with my work I'm
+surprised you haven't discharged me long ago. But I'll save you the
+trouble. I quit."
+
+Pete was staring at him as though Wilbur had gone mad. Maybe he had,
+Wilbur thought. Maybe Pete was going to get sore and punch him in the
+nose. It didn't seem to matter.
+
+"Not only that," Wilbur added. "I'm going into business for myself. How
+would you like to work for me, Miss Burnett?"
+
+"I think I'd like that just fine," she said. She took her purse out of a
+drawer in her desk and got her coat and put it on.
+
+Pete Bellows was a stricken man. For once he had nothing to say. His
+mouth dropped open and he leaned against his desk. "W-wait a minute,
+Wilbur, old pal," he managed to gasp finally.
+
+"Goodbye," was all Wilbur had to say. He held the door open carefully
+for Miss Burnett, then shut it behind them as carefully.
+
+Wilbur knew that he was outwardly calm. Inside, he was filled with
+amazement at himself. Never had he thought to see the day when he would
+stand up to Pete Bellows. Now he had not only done it, he had got away
+with it! He took Miss Burnett's elbow. She was looking at him rather
+queerly, he thought.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"I just noticed the strangest thing about you," she said. "You're the
+first person I've ever seen who had different colored eyes!"
+
+Wilbur gasped. His knees felt weak, and out of the past he heard a
+creaky voice say, "... I can't tell them apart." Now he understood that
+_Arthur's_ right eye had been the last ingredient in the _Elixir of
+Fortitude_!
+
+Wilbur smiled. There was nothing to be angry about. He certainly hadn't
+got the worst of the bargain! His shoulders were squared as he helped
+Miss Burnett into the elevator car.
+
+"Let's go, Jean," Wilbur said.
+
+
+    [Transcriber's Corrections
+
+    Changed "widow" to "window" (A fat grey cat sunned itself on the
+    window ledge)
+
+    Removed extra "and" (He picked up the glass ball again and
+    Wilbur felt himself grow faint)
+
+    Changed "is it" to "it is" ("Excalibur it is called," Merlin said.)
+
+    Changed "face" to "fact" (In fact, there was no card at all!)
+
+    Changed "handkershief" to "handkerchief" (Wilbur pulled out his
+    handkerchief and wiped his right eye)
+
+    Removed extraneous doublequote at the end of the sentence (Arthur's
+    right eye had been the last ingredient in the Elixir of Fortitude!)]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eye of Wilbur Mook, by H. B. Hickey
+
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