"Look," Toffee said, "if they went to the woods in that direction, why don't we go to them in the other direction and let Julie do the worrying for a change. Fair's fair, isn't it?" "How could that possibly worry Julie," Marc asked. "She wouldn't even know we were there." "That's right," Toffee said evilly, "she wouldn't, would she?" "Unprincipled little trollop," Marc said. "Unprincipled to the bone," Toffee agreed. She sighed. "But what good does it do me?" "I suppose I should drop in on my guests before I leave," Marc said, "just to make sure they're comfortable." "They're probably so comfortable by now, they're unconscious." "They're better that way," Marc said. This settled, he turned away, then turned quickly back again as Busby, wringing his hands with desperation, suddenly flew through the door and down the steps. "Sir! Sir!" he yelled. "They've done it already, sir! I can't imagine.... They must be quick as cats!" "What are you talking about, Busby?" Marc asked. "The silver, sir!" Busby wailed. "And Mrs. Pillsworth's jewels! Your--associates cleaned out the lot! And they merely passed through the house, sir!" "Like corn through a goose," Toffee murmured. "Oh, Mrs. Pillsworth will be furious, sir!" Busby lamented. "Mrs. Pillsworth puts great store by her silver and jewels!" * * * * * Marc shuddered with apprehension. Julie would be more than furious; she would be livid. And, worse than that, she would be livid at him! Since the pack of thieves who had taken the things were his guests, the whole thing, therefore, would be all his fault. She would never forgive him. "We'll have to get them back!" he said. "I could call the police, sir!" "No!" Marc fairly yelled. "No, Busby, don't call the police." He frowned concernedly. "Are they all down in the cellar now?" "Revelling," Busby said hauntedly. "Revelling and shouting and guzzling. I don't think I'd go down there if I were you. It's a regular den of vice." "Nevertheless," Marc said, "they need a good talking to. It's hardly good manners to accept a man's hospitality and steal his wife's jewels." "It was probably Floss," Toffee said vengefully. "She's got her eye out for a good thing, all right." Together, the three of them entered the house, crossed the wide, cool hall at the front, passed through the solarium and kitchen and drew up at the doorway that led down to the cellar. The sound of coarse laughter momentarily halted their steps. From inside his jacket, Busby extracted a revolver. "Perhaps you should have this, sir," he said. "I keep it for emergencies." "And this is certainly an emergency," Marc said. Taking the gun, he faced the stairway. "I will speak to them firmly and if that doesn't work, I'll--I'll--" "Call the police, sir?" "No! No, I'll--I'll hope for the best." "With that mob," Busby said dismally, "the best is bound to be something worse than the worst, if you get my meaning."