Marc's thoughts raced wildly. If ever there was a time for Toffee to fade, this was unquestionably it. He clamped his eyes tightly shut and tried frantically to picture peaceful, pastoral scenes in an attempt to induce sleep. However, what occurred to him most frequently were bleak countrysides strewn with assorted wreckage, symbolic of his future. "Exactly what is your relationship with this man?" The judge nodded in Marc's direction without looking at him. "Well," said Toffee. "You see, I sort of belong to him, in a way." "You mean he's your guardian?" This appealed to Toffee and she nodded vigorously. The judge turned to Marc. "Young man--," he began, then looked questioningly at Toffee. "What's the matter with him?" Toffee turned to Marc and sudden anger flashed in her eyes. "You double-crosser!" she hissed. Swiftly her hand shot to Marc's unsuspecting rear and two fingers closed wickedly. Instantly, Marc's eyes flew open and stared wildly at the judge as a piercing scream rent the courtroom and he leaped frantically forward. A small cry of terror was heard from the frightened judge as he disappeared beneath the bench. "He's attacking me!" he screamed from the floor. "Get him out of here! Get them both out of here! Lock them up before they kill someone!" As two official brutes closed in on them, Marc angrily faced Toffee. "If you ever do anything like this again, I'll deliberately contract sleeping sickness!" he shouted. * * * * * Marc awoke wondering how long he had been asleep, and, in the grey morning light, began to inspect his quarters without enthusiasm. The cell that he occupied was like any other, but he had been lucky enough to have it all to himself. He lay, face up in the lower section of the steel, double-decker and reviewed the preceding night's activities. Suddenly, he started forward and propped himself up on one elbow. There was a form clearly outlined in the mattress above him. He tried to remember if anyone had been brought into the cell during the night. As he was thinking about it, the form stirred. Slowly, he advanced a hand to the mattress and prodded it gingerly. His suspicions were immediately confirmed. "Good morning," called Toffee with a hateful cheerfulness as she peered down at him from the upper. "I thought they put you in the women's quarters." "They did, but I decided to materialize here, to be with you." "But, if they find you here--," Marc gave it up. Things couldn't get any worse. "I hope you're happy about this." He waved his hand tragically at the cell. "Well," said Toffee slowly. "I _can_ think of better places. Let's leave." "And how do you propose to get out of here?" "You mean they intend to keep us here?" "It is likely, considering your performance before the judge last night, that we shall rot in this place." "We'll just have to get out." Toffee's brow wrinkled sternly.