"Don't kill yourselves running," Carstairs said. "Llewellyn and Buck and I are signing up for this little expedition, providing the clown can give the right answers to a few questions when we get outside." He smiled as he got up. "Just one thing, Mitz. This time there better be no cops." Mitzie laughed. Phil accepted the situation with a "Glad to have your help, boys," and started to take Mitzie's arm, but she linked hers with those of Carstairs and Llewellyn, not sparing Phil another look. The sequined singer had shifted to a snappier rhythm. Slap me silly, honey, Beat me till I break. Love is very funny, Laugh until I ache.... To solace his injured feelings, Phil veered over to Phoebe Filmer's booth, where the green-blonde was being rather pointedly annoyed by two bearded young men while her escort looked on agitatedly. Phil tapped the nearest ruffian on the shoulder. "Lay off, boys," he commanded, with a meaningful nod toward his own party. Buck at least looked his way and Otie growled. The bearded ruffians slunk off. Phil made Phoebe a tiny bow. "Thank you," she said weakly and astoundedly. He gestured that it was a mere nothing and walked off. "Say," she asked, hurrying after him and dragging her escort with her, "did you ever find that green cat of yours?" He smiled at her. "No," he said, "but I'm going to." X "And how did you plan to get inside when the place is closed for the night?" Carstairs prodded sardonically. For answer Phil cocked his eyebrows defiantly and gave the restaurant door a smart shove. It swung silently inward. He led them in haughtily, vaguely aware that Llewellyn was examining the lock. The long room was very dark. It smelled stalely of people and liquor and seared meat; Phil even thought he could distinguish Juno's burned rabbit chops. Otie snuffed eagerly and tugged Buck forward by his leash. Phil steered their course confidently between the counter and the booths. He was feeling particularly pleased with himself because Mitzie had found opportunity to ask him for his address on the way over. "All right, all right," he heard Carstairs whisper behind him to Llewellyn, "so the lock was burned. Somebody's ahead of us. We'll be watching out." Phil pushed open the door to the stairs, and hesitated. Inside it was now completely black. Something hissed softly beside him and a luminescent cone puffed out. A couple of seconds later, the half dozen treads of the stairway glowed milkily. Buck chuckled inches from Phil's ear. "Lum'niscint mist," he explained with professional casualness. "You get going. I'll spray." Phil started up, the milky surface light keeping two or three treads ahead of him in blobby advances. The mist got on Otie, so that he glowed like the Hound of the Baskervilles. Some of it even got on Phil's trouser bottoms and sockasins.