Meanwhile a scene of rather complex agitation had been revealed within the narrow confines of the elevator. It seemed that Marc, still increasing in the degree of his buoyancy, was no longer afforded any particular measure of security from the weights in his pockets. Even during the brief interval which had transported him from the roof to the foyer, he had levitated to the height of about a foot and was still inching upward. Marc's companions were inclined to take a sour view of the whole procedure. Indeed, the Blemishes felt called upon to express their displeasure with firearms. Cecil Blemish aimed his gun at the small of Marc's back and sighted tensely down the barrel. "Come down," he threatened. "Stop doing that or I'll shoot. I will, too." "Stop that," Toffee said agitatedly. "Look where you're aiming. He's risen another four inches. There's no need to be vulgar about it." "Oh, excuse me," Cecil said, and aimed the gun higher. "If you two don't put those guns away and stop waving them about," Toffee said, "I'm going to snatch them away from you and beat your brains out with them. I'll admit it'll be something like hunting butterflies with a sledge hammer, but I'm willing to have a go at it. How about it?" The twins paused in their activities and looked at each other. "I'll bet she would at that," Cecil said. "Those poor defenseless butterflies," Gerald nodded. "I shudder." "And well you should shudder," Toffee put in. Together the brothers turned to her with undisguised admiration. "You're really mean," Cecil said. "Have you ever thought of being a spy?" "Have you ever thought of being a dead spy?" Toffee said waspishly. "Now stop that nonsense and help me get him down. Find something to weight him down with." * * * * * Marc, already beginning to crouch to keep his head away from the ceiling of the car, looked down imploringly. "Just get me something to eat," he pleaded. "I'll be all right if you'll only feed me." "You see," Gerald Blemish said. "He's just being stubborn. This is all just a childish trick to get us to feed him." He raised his gun again in Marc's direction. "Don't be silly," Toffee said. She explained to the Blemishes that food reacted chemically to temporarily relieve Marc's condition of buoyancy. "Just help me get him down, and we can get him something to eat in the hotel dining room." The brothers were thoughtful. "I suppose we'll have to take her word for it," Cecil said. "Anyway, he's not much good to us up there." "I suppose so," Gerald agreed, "but personally I think he's just the flighty type." Cecil went to the door of the elevator and looked out. Then he stepped outside and called back to Gerald to come and give him a hand. Absentmindedly, Gerald started to hand his gun to Toffee, but at the last moment he thought better of it and put it in his pocket. "It's hard to tell who's captured whom sometimes," he said sadly, and went outside.