in selling you the idea of a trip. I am simply telling you that you are going on a trip. I have already made all the arrangements. There is nothing that can possibly change them."

"Where am I going?" Reggie asked. His voice was a whisper.

"With me," Mr. Demise said.

"That's no answer," Reggie said, clutching at straws. "Who are you? Where are you going?"

Mr. Demise smiled again, very faintly. He walked slowly to the mantelpiece and plucked a rose from a vase. His hand closed gently over the flower as he turned to face Reggie.

"Perhaps this will answer your questions," he said softly.

He opened his hand and dropped the flower to the floor at Reggie's feet. Reggie's eyes widened in sheer amazement.

Reggie looked at the seared rose, and then he knew...!

For the soft glowing beauty of the flower was faded forever. It lay on the floor, a blackened, dead reminder of its former glory.

"It's dead," he said incredulously. "It withered at the touch of your hand."

Mr. Demise nodded slowly and there was a wistful sadness in his face.

"All living things die at my touch," he said. "For I am Death!"

"Death!" Reggie echoed. For an instant he stared blankly at Mr. Demise. "Death!" he repeated. "Why that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He actually felt a sensation of relief in the realization that he'd been entertaining some loony instead of an Axis agent as he'd feared. "You're off your trolley," he said to Mr. Demise. "You'd better get moving before your keeper finds you. Death! What a gag!"

"I assure you it is not a gag," Mr. Demise said slowly. "Your time is near at hand and I have been sent to take you to the land of Darkness."

"Think again, chum," Reggie said emphatically. "I'm not going to Harlem with you or anyone else and that's final."

"It is useless to protest," Mr. Demise said. "Your destiny is sealed. You must come with me."

"You are plain balmy," Reggie said. "I've never heard a sillier yarn in my life. So you're Death, are you?"

Mr. Demise nodded. "I am one of his agents."

"Changing your story a little, aren't you?" Reggie said triumphantly. "Well, since when has Death been announced by personal messengers? A man steps in front of a car. He's killed. That's all there is to it. There aren't little black men standing on the curb pushing him into the street, are there? And they don't come around a couple of hours in advance tipping him off, do they? No!"

"When a mortal passes over," Mr. Demise said, "there is always an agent of Death present superintending the details. But he is not always visible to his charge."

Reggie poured himself a drink and lit a cigarette.

"Well, thanks just the same," he said, "but I don't want any special effects when I pass over. If there's a messenger of Death around I don't want to see him. Just let him stay invisible. That's the way I want it."

Mr. Demise looked slightly pained. There was an embarrassed look on his normally expressionless features.

"Usually the agent of Death is invisible," he said. "In fact his orders are to remain invisible under all circumstances."

"Okay then," Reggie said. "You're breaking orders. Be a nice obedient chum now and fade away."

Mr. Demise shrugged and stepped backward—and suddenly he was gone! He had disappeared into thin air, soundlessly, instantaneously.

"Why what?" Reggie said blandly. He started to sip his drink when suddenly the full realization of what had happened burst on him. The drink fell from his nerveless fingers with a crash.

He stared frantically about the room.

Mr. Demise was gone! It was incredible! It was unbelievable! But it was a fact!

He poured himself another drink and drained it in