THE bedroom door opened and closed on its oiled hinges without a sound, and a man walked over to the closet. With methodical care he hung his coat on its accustomed peg before moving deliberately over to his bureau. On its highly polished top he laid down a soiled scrap of paper. His quiet, orderly actions gave no indication of the rage consuming him. As he raised his head his eyes traveled upward and he started back involuntarily at the face contemplating him in the mirror. His face--but was that distorted countenance his face? With a shudder he glanced over his shoulder and about the room; then slowly, fearfully he turned to face his other self mirrored in the glass before him. Judith Ric…
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