Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Amazing Stories January 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The Chameleon Man
By WILLIAM P. McGIVERN
Perfect adaptation, that's what it was.When a human being can blend with hissurroundings, funny things can happen!
I've got an office in the Daily Standardbuilding and sometimes whenthings are slow in my line—theatricalbookings—I drift upstairs andtalk to the guy who writes the column,The Soldier's Friend, for the Standard.
On this particular morning I walkedinto his office and found it empty soI sat down and waited, figuring he wasdownstairs getting a mug of coffee.After I cleaned my nails and glancedthrough Jake's mail I propped my feetup on the desk and relaxed.
Things in my line were strictlystinkeroo. With the army taking anoption on every available hunk of maleflesh, it made it pretty tough to getacts together. Of course, I still had afew dollies to peddle, but the situationdon't look too good there, what withthe WAVES and the WAACS and thedemand from factories for powder-puffriveters.
I sighed and moodily contemplatedmy uncreased trouser legs and thoughtof my non-existent bank balance.Whoever said war was hell, sure hitthe nail on the head.
The door opened and I heard a shuffleof footsteps on the floor. I tippedmy derby back and looked up, expectingto see Jake, but the office wasempty.
The door was standing open and Iscratched my head. Maybe it hadblown open. Then I remembered thesound of footsteps I'd heard and mybewilderment increased.
"Hello," a voice said.
My feet came down from the deskwith a crash. I sat up straight andstared about the small room.
"Who said that?" I demanded.
"I did. I'm right here." It was thesame voice and I jerked my head inthe direction of the sound.
For an instant I didn't see a thing.But then, my eyes seemed suddenlyto focus, and I saw a tall, lanky youngman standing a few feet from me. Hehad a shock of straw colored hair andmild blue eyes. He wore a light suit.
"Can you see me now?" he asked,and his voice sounded strained, as ifhe were exerting himself in some manner.
"Yes, I can see you," I said. I wasa little nettled. "What do you meancoming in and scaring people thatway?"
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't meanto scare you. I just can't help it.I'll have to relax now."
"You'll have to what? Are you—"
I broke off and goggled. The youngman had completely disappeared. Myforehead was suddenly damp withnervous perspiration. I closed my eyesand forced myself to think calmly. Thiswas some trick of my imagination. I'dbeen working too hard. My nerveswere shot. I'd have to take a rest.
I opened my eyes cautiously. Theroom was empty. I drew a relievedbreath.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you," afamiliar voice said apologetically."But, you see, I can't help it."
I stood up warily and peered aboutthe room.
"Where are you?" I whispered.
"Right here in front of you."
"If you're a mahout for pink elephants,I don't want to see you," Is