Marc glanced down at her brief costume. In the morning sun it seemed almost non-existent. Quickly he took off his coat and held it out to her. "Here!" he said imperatively, "put this on!" "On one condition," Toffee said. "I want a new dress. I'm through hinting about it." "And you shall have one," Marc agreed. "No one ever needed one more acutely." With mild regret Toffee put the coat on. In it, she looked rather like a shapely scarecrow whose lack of hands had been more than amply compensated for by a pair of stunningly formed legs. This settled, Marc shook his head, just to get the remaining cobwebs out, and looked around. "Are you sure this is all right," he asked, "my leaving like this?" "The man gave me the key, didn't he?" Toffee said. "I don't know," Marc said doubtfully. "I can't think quite clearly, but somehow it doesn't seem quite regular." "Regularity is so dull," Toffee said, "in spite of what all those cereal manufacturers say." Shrugging, Marc followed along as she started off down the street. A passing delivery boy, catching sight of the briefly-draped redhead, paused to whistle. Toffee waved at him happily and whistled back. "Don't do that!" Marc said. "Stop attracting attention to yourself!" Toffee grinned up at him. "It's myself that attracts attention to me," she said. "You made me that way and I must say I dearly love you for it." Glancing down the street, her gaze stopped at a tall department store building which was fronted by long, gleaming show windows. She pointed to it eagerly. "That looks wonderfully extravagant," she said. "Let's go charge things to your account." As they approached the store, Marc's step became firmer, his head unclouded. He stopped just outside the entrance with an abrupt burp. "I just remembered," he said. "I've got to get out to the country house. I.... What am I going to do with you, though?" "You're going to buy me a ridiculous dress at a ridiculous price," Toffee said. "We'll worry about Julie and her shabby amours with that lecherous paint-dauber later." "How did you know about that?" Marc asked. "From sitting around in that arid mind of yours," Toffee said. "Sometimes I tune in on what's going on just out of sheer boredom." * * * * * Meanwhile, within the jail, a moiling drama of considerable scope was swiftly reaching a head. Sergeant Feeney had discovered, with much goggling of the eyes, that hallucinations not only could steal keys, but had. With a thrill of horror he called in the members of the force on duty, six in all, and instituted an inspection of the cells. In due time, it was noted that the jail's prize prisoner had flown the coop. "Mary, mother of triplets!" Sergeant Feeney shrieked. "We gotta get that bird back in his cage before the chief hears of this!" "He couldn't have gotten too far away, sergeant," one of the city's hearties observed moodily. "We better scour the streets, I think."