"About these cases," the congressman said. "That fellow in England...." "Oh, the one who thought the magistrate was a beautiful girl? It's hard to believe, of course, but you must remember it was an extreme case. The most severe ever recorded, I believe. The funeral was only a formality, of course, since there wasn't even a scrap of him recovered. Exploded, you know." "Exploded!" "That's right. The only thing of its kind in medical history. Poor devil went right off. With a great whopping roar, they said. The doctors said it was caused by repressed emotion." "Oh, Mona!" the congressman groaned. "Didn't mean to upset you, old friend," Toffee said. "It's an unpleasant thing to talk about." "But couldn't they have saved him?" the congressman asked. "Suppose they had gotten him to a psychiatrist or something before it happened?" "Actually it was much simpler than that," Toffee said ponderously. "The fellow could have saved himself merely by confessing. Confession, you know, is the only thing for a bad conscience. Highly recommended by all the best authorities. Those church people are doing it all the time--can't stop church people from confessing--and you never heard of one of them exploding, did you?" "That's right," the congressman said hopefully. His gaze travelled out the window, a clouded look of inner turmoil on his face. "It was just one of those things," Toffee put in. "One minute this chap was standing there in court just as hail and hearty as beans and the next--boom!--and the spectators were whisking him off their coat sleeves and passing round the cleaning fluid!" The congressman whirled about in a convulsion of anguish. "I confess!" he blurted. "I confess _everything_!" "Not everything," Toffee said. "Leave the racy personal stuff for another time." The congressman reached out the gadget and dropped it on the bench. Toffee picked it up as he followed that contribution with a key. "There's the key to the storeroom," the congressman said, "and the one to the private files. And here's a list of the members of the organization." He started as Rooney stepped forward and took him by the arm. "Take him away," Toffee said blithely. "Find him a cell with lots of padding. And take his body-guard too." * * * * * As the congressman and the thug disappeared in the custody of Rooney, Toffee mashed out her cigar, quitted the bench and proceeded across the court where the blonde was still throttling the judge. "Better let him up, honey," she advised gently. "He's turning a very nasty blue." The blonde stopped to consider the judge's complexion and let him drop to the floor. "Loathsome old bore!" she hissed as he sat up and rubbed his neck, then got to his feet and tottered off toward the bench. "That'll teach you next time." Toffee moved on to Marc. "Well, don't just sit there," she said, "Let's get at it." Marc looked up apprehensively. "At what?" he asked.