The Mask

appeared to be only six or eight feet above the tallest houses. He felt as if he could raise his arm and rap his knuckles on the bellies of the clouds, eliciting a hard, ironlike clank.
    He crouched with his back to the chimney and inspected the TV antenna. The brace-plate was held down by four bolts that went through the shingles, either directly into a roof beam or into a stud linking two beams. None of the bolts was missing. None of them was loose. The plate was firmly attached to the house, and the antenna was anchored securely to the plate. The antenna could not possibly have been responsible for the hammering sound that had shaken the house.
     
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    After washing the dishes, Grace and Carol went into the study. The room reeked of cat urine and feces. Aristophanes had made his toilet on the seat of the big easy chair.
    Stunned, Grace said, “I don’t believe it. Ari always uses the litter box like he’s supposed to do. He’s never done anything like this before.”
    “He’s always been a fussy cat, hasn’t he? Fastidious.”
    “Exactly. But now look what he’s done. That chair’ll have to be reupholstered. I guess I’d better find the silly beast, put his nose to this mess, and give him a good scolding. I don’t want this to become a habit, for God’s sake.”
    They looked in every room, but they couldn’t find Aristophanes. Apparently, he had slipped out of the house by way of the pet door in the kitchen.
    Returning to the study with Grace, Carol said, “Earlier, you mentioned something about Ari tearing up a few things.”
    Grace winced. “Yes. I didn’t want to have to tell you—but he shredded two of those lovely little needlepoint pillows you made for me. I was sick about it. After all the work you put into those, and then he Just—,”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Carol said. “I’ll make you a couple of new pillows. I enjoy doing it. Needlepoint relaxes me. I only asked because I thought maybe, if Ari’s been doing a lot of things that’re out of character, it might be a sign that he isn’t well.”
    Grace frowned. “He looks healthy. His coat’s glossy, and he’s certainly as spry as ever.”
    “Animals are like people in some ways. And when a person suddenly starts behaving strangely, that can be an indication of a physical malady, anything from a brain tumor to an inbalanced diet.”
    “I suppose I ought to take him to the vet.”
    Carol said, “While there’s a break in the rain, why don’t we go outside and see if we can find him?”
    “Wasted effort. When a cat doesn’t want to be found, it won’t be found. Besides, he’ll come back by dinnertime: I’ll keep him in all night, and take him to the vet’s in the morning.” Grace looked at the mess on the easy chair, grimaced, and shook her head. “This isn’t like my Ari,” she said worriedly. “It’s just not like him at all.”
     
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    The number on the open door was 316.
    Hesitantly, Carol stepped into the white and blue hospital room and stopped just past the threshold. The place smelled vaguely of Lysol.
    The girl was sitting up in the bed nearest the window, her face averted from the door, staring out at the twilight-shrouded hospital grounds. She turned her head when she realized she was no longer alone, and when she looked at Carol there was no recognition in her blue-gray eyes.
    “May I come in?” Carol asked.
    “Sure.”
    Carol went to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
    “Okay.”
    “With all the scrapes and cuts and bruises, it must be hard to get comfortable.”
    “Gee, I’m not banged up all that bad. I’m just a little sore. It’s nothing that’s going to kill me. Everyone's so nice; you’re all making too much of a fuss about me.”
    “How’s your head feel?”
    “I had a headache when I first came to, but it’s been gone for hours.”
    “Double vision?”
    “Nothing like that,” the girl said. A strand of golden hair slipped from behind her ear and fell across her cheek; she tucked it back in place. “Are you a doctor?”
    “Yes,” Carol said. “My name’s Carol Tracy.”
    “You can call me Jane. That’s the name on my chart. Jane Doe. I guess it’s as good as any. It might even turn out to be a lot nicer than my real name. Maybe I’m actually Zelda or Myrtle or something like that.” She had a lovely smile. “You’re the umpteenth doctor who’s been in to see me. How many do I have, anyway?”
    “I’m not one of yours,” Carol said. “I’m here because… well… it was my car you stepped in front of.”
    “Oh. Hey, gee, I’m awfully