From a curtained doorway, a small dark woman, the manageress of the department, looked out and emitted a thin cry of disbelief. The model, now stripped to the waist, was hugging herself in a paroxysm of horror. Throwing back the curtains, the manageress ran forward. "Madam!" she cried. "Madam! You really mustn't!" She hastened to Toffee's side and tried to pull her away from the terrified girl. "If you like the dress, please step back to the fitting room." "Step back to the fitting room yourself!" Toffee snapped. "And don't call me madam!" "But the model...." "She'll have to take her chances," Toffee gritted determinedly. "I need this dress worse than she does." The skirt came free in her hand, revealing the model in nothing more than a pair of very sheer panties. "Oh, madam!" the girl wailed. "Well, don't just stand there, exposing yourself!" the manageress cried. "Grab something and put it on!" Gazing about frantically, the girl's eyes shot to the next model who had been displaying a negligee when all the trouble started. Reaching out, she deftly grabbed the zipper and yanked. The garment relinquished its hold and slithered to the floor in a vaporous cloud. The first model snatched it up and hurriedly put it on. The second model, finding herself revealed in the flesh, announced her shock in a shrill scream and made a wild grab for the mink coat that lay in the lap of a nearby customer. The customer, however, was too quick for her. Despite her over-padded figure, she shot out of her chair on the run. "No you don't!" she screamed, "not after all I went through to get this!" "Come back here!" the model yelled determinedly and took out in hot pursuit. * * * * * As bedlam became the general order of the day in the salon, Sergeant Feeney and his crew charged heroically up the stairway, announcing their arrival with a shrill blast from the sergeant's whistle. At the sight of the scrambling customers and models, the men in blue jolted to a flat-footed halt. "Lord in heaven!" the sergeant gasped, removing the whistle from his lips. The fur-bearing customer and denuded model shot past him, collided with a plaster manniquin and tumbled to the floor in a frantic tangle of arms, legs and mink. The sergeant flushed furiously and turned back to his followers. "Scour lightly here, men," he said. "We don't want nobody bruised." Taking advantage of the sergeant's momentary dismay, Marc shoved a bill into the hand of the screaming manageress, grabbed Toffee, who had now struggled into the dress, and, flanking the befuddled law, led her quickly to the stairs. "Hurry!" he said. "And be quiet." "You're under arrest!" the sergeant roared behind them. "Everybody's under arrest--probably!" In record time, Marc and Toffee gained the level of the second floor and kept on running. As they ran, Toffee returned Marc's coat and he slipped it on.