He whirled, prepared to strike.
There was no green ghost. Yet the mirror had shown one clearly.
He continued. And again, the green ghost appeared in the mirror.
Again, he whirled. And again there was no ghost.
Frowning, the Master of Sinanju went to the mirror. His reflection appeared undistorted. And behind him was a ghost.
The Master of Sinanju broke the mirror with a tiny fist, and when he resumed his progress he was not molested.
Passing into the next room he found himself walking at the opposite cant, but he shifted his inner balance as easily as a fly walking on a sheer surface. A mirror to his left showed clearly that a giant scarlet spider was stalking him. Yet the opposite mirror reflected a yellowish mummy, dragging his dusty wrappings.
This was an impossibility, he knew. He was being stalked either by a spider or a mummy. Not both. The mirrors each reflected one apparition, not two.
He stopped. The apparitions stopped. He continued. They followed. When the Master of Sinanju leaped into the next room and stood poised to defend himself, he saw that the room was empty of any shapes, of this world or others.
"What sorcery is this?" he muttered darkly.
Thereafter, as he passed through the crazy procession of rooms, he simply ignored the obviously bewitched mirrors and his progress was undisturbed.
In a room larger than the others, he encountered the mouse.
Chiun lifted his voice.
"Mongo! Hail, entertainer of children. I bring you greetings from the House of Sinanju."
Mongo spoke not a word. Laying a quieting finger to his licorice lips, he beckoned the Master of Sinanju to follow. Then he opened a secret panel in a wall.
"The Mouse has succeeded in drawing him into the Slab Room, Director."
The Director looked away from the screen, which framed Mucky Moose's quivering, defeated bulk.
"When he steps in, drop the ceiling on his head."
"The Mouse, too?"
"Mongo Mouse is immortal. He will never die."
"Yes, Director."
The Master of Sinanju stepped into the chamber and smelled death. It hung in the close air. It was in the walls, which appeared ordinary. The floors felt like stone under his sandaled feet.
And when the Master of Sinanju looked up, he saw that the ceiling too was stone, pitted and discolored where scouring hadn't managed to remove all traces of blood.
"You have lured me to this bitter place for a reason, Mouse," he accused.
The black-and-white figure of Mongo Mouse grinned starchily, and wriggled playful white-gloved fingers.
"Why do you not speak?" Chiun demanded.
The Mouse moved his head from side to side happily. But the Master of Sinanju could smell the sweat he exuded.
Then, the ceiling began to grind downward.
And the mouse spoke.
"No, No, Uncle Sam! I'm your biggest fan!"
"You are not Monongahela Mouse," Chiun said suspiciously, hearing the unfamiliar voice.
"Damn straight, I'm not," said the Mouse, removing his head and throwing it at him. Chiun caught it easily, his eyes stricken with momentary surprise.
From an unseen loudspeaker an angry voice demanded, "Mongo, put your head back on. You are out of character."
In an ugly voice the mouse called back, "The ceiling is coming down, Captain. I'll be crushed!"
"Then die like Mongo would die. With his wooden shoes on."
"Screw you!" said the mouse with a human head, pounding on the walls like a trapped rat.
In its inexorable descent, the rumbling ceiling scraped wallpaper from the walls and knocked portraits off their nails.
The Master of Sinanju turned and attacked the only visible door. Thick and built of heavy panels, it was now fixed and immovable. Stripping the hinges did no good.
Chiun selected one panel and, using a fingernail that had been hardened by diet and exercise, outlined it swiftly. The wood screeched in protest. He repeated the action. Long shavings curled and fell to the floor. On the fourth circuit the panel fell out, leaving an aperture large enough for a child to use.
Tucking the prized mouse head under one arm, the Master of Sinanju passed through it easily. On the other side, he called to the frightened mouse impersonator. "Reveal to me the name of your master, and I will allow you to escape this way."
The mouse turned, said "Huh?" and clopped toward the hole.
The ceiling had swallowed half the cubic area of the room by this time, forcing the mouse to stoop, then crawl.
"Speak now!" Chiun urged.
"Out of my way, you old fart!"
The mouse-man reached the aperture, eyes wild, and attempted to struggle through. He got his head out. That was all.
As the ceiling inched toward the floor, the mouse's human eyes and tongue protruded. He gagged and made strangling noises deep in his throat. Then the blood began to run from eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, and something pinker than its tongue was forced from its mouth like an organic balloon.
Sternly, the Master of Sinanju watched the mouse in its death throes.
"So perish all imposters." Then he turned on his heel to go.
Chapter 18