This Way for a Shroud

"What do we do?" Frances asked as she walked just ahead of him. "It's awfully stuffy in here, isn't it?"

"You won't find it stuffy once we get into the maze," Pete assured her. "It's in the open air."

They walked a few yards and then they found themselves suddenly in the maze.

The maze was constructed of fifteen-foot-high walls, lined on either side by mirrors. The passage between the wall was six foot wide, just wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The mirrors were so angled that they reflected from one mirror to the other, and as Frances and Pete stepped into the first long passage they were immediately hemmed in and surrounded by their own reflections, multiplied thirty or forty times.

The effect was so startling and overpowering that Frances came to an abrupt standstill.

"I don't think I'm going to like this," she said, turning to Pete. "Do you think we'll ever find our way out?"

"It's all right," he said, taking her arm. "We just go straight ahead, and when we come to a cross section we turn to the left. If we keep turning to the left we'll be out in ten minutes or so."

"Well, all right," Frances said doubtfully. "But I don't really like it."

He took her arm and walked her forward. He wanted to get her into the centre of the maze in case Moe had seen them and was following them. For some minutes they walked along the mirror-lined paths, turning to the left when they came to the cross sections.

Above them as they walked they could see the blue sky and hear the strident noise of the amusement park. Each path that they came to was a replica of the one they had just left. Their reflections surrounded them. What appeared to be an endless path would suddenly terminate in a cul-de-sac so they had to retrace their way until they found a turning which they had passed without noticing it.

After they had walked for two or three minutes, Frances said suddenly, "I think we should try to get out now. It's rather dull, isn't it?"

Pete stopped. He looked back down the path along which they had come. Twenty faces with twenty disfiguring birthmarks stared at him, making him feel a little sick.

Now he had come to the moment when he had to tell her the truth, he realized how difficult it was going to be. There was so little time. Any moment Moe might appear at the end of one of these paths.

"I brought you here to tell you something," he began. "I'm afraid it is going to be a shock to you."

She looked quickly at him, and he saw her stiffen slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not Burt Stevens. My name is Pete Weiner. We haven't much time. Please listen to me and please don't be frightened."

He saw alarm jump into her eyes, and he felt desperately sorry for her. To suddenly find herself in this complicated maze with someone who now turns out to be a complete stranger was an alarming experience, he thought, as he tried to smile at her.

"I don't understand," she said steadily. "Is this a joke?"

"I wish it was," he said earnestly. "Before I say anything more I want you to know I wouldn't harm you for anything in the world. You're safe with me. So please try not to be frightened."

She moved a step away from him.

"What do you mean?"

"There's so little time," he said, his mind groping for the right words. "I don't know what it is all about myself. I was sent to hurt you. That man who has been following us came with me. He's dangerous. I know it sounds unbelievable, but he will kill you if he can get you alone. The only way to save you is for me to kill him while you escape. That's why I brought you here. You must do exactly what I tell you . . ." He broke off as he saw terror darken her eyes.

As she listened to the quiet, tense voice, she believed that she was listening to a madman. The newspapers were always mentioning horrible cases of lunatics who trapped girls in lonely places and murdered them. She backed away, staring at Pete, and she raised her hands in an imploring gesture for him to keep his distance.

Seeing her rising panic, Pete remained still. He had realized the danger of telling her the truth. He guessed she might jump to the conclusion that he was a lunatic, and with a sick feeling of despair he saw now that was exactly what she was thinking.

"Please don't be frightened, Frankie," he said. "Please trust me. I'm not cracked, and I wouldn't hurt you. Can't you see that? Can't you see I only want to help you?"

"Please go away," she said, white-faced but still calm. "I can find my way out without your help. Just please go away and leave me."

"I will go," he said earnestly, "but you must first listen to what I have to say. This man who is following us has been told to kill you. I don't know why, but he will do it unless I stop him. They sent me a photograph of you so I should know you. Look, I'll show it to you. Perhaps it will convince you I'm speaking the truth."