Toffee regarded Marc with satisfaction. "That should hold you," she said. "Unburden yourself." Willing to risk anything by now, Marc put down the urn. He remained stationary. With an echoing sigh of relief and a loud clattering of silver, he seated himself at the table. "Thank God!" he groaned. The other diners, feeling that they were now in for a period of respite, turned back to their cooling meals and a general buzz of low-key conversation. It was at this moment that a waiter, just on duty and starkly unappraised of recent developments, made his entrance into the dining room, picked up a pitcher of water, and went to the aid of the newcomers. He moved forward with the light step of the happy and the innocent. Toffee saw him coming. "May we have more silver?" she asked. The waiter stopped short, put the pitcher of water down heavily on the table. The dining room quieted for a second time. "What happened to the silver that was here?" he asked. "A Wynant table is never left without silver." "Oh, that," Toffee said. "We used all that up." "For what?" the waiter wanted to know. "What did you do with it?" Toffee pointed blandly to Marc. "He has it in his pockets," she said. Marc shifted in his chair with musical unease and refused to meet the narrowed gaze of the waiter. There was a long moment of silence before the waiter turned back to Toffee. "You mean he just picked it up and put it in his pockets?" "Oh, no," Toffee said. "Of course not. We picked it up and put it in his pockets for him." She nodded to her dark-browed accomplices. * * * * * For a moment the waiter stood undecided. One could almost see the desperate churnings of his mind. Finally he bent low toward Toffee in a manner of great confidence. "Since you're so open about the whole thing," he murmured, "I trust you and your friends are playing some sort of game to amuse yourselves. I assume that you intend to take the silver back out of the gentleman's pockets and return it to the table. Am I right?" "Certainly not," Toffee said. "We wouldn't think of it." "I'd be very pleased if you would," the waiter said a bit more firmly. "Oh, you wouldn't be pleased at all," Toffee said. "You'd despise it. Now just run along and get some more silver." "So you can stuff this fellow's pockets with it?" the waiter said. "If you put any more in them they'll rip off." "We want to eat with it," Toffee said. "How novel," the waiter said. He turned to the Blemishes and blanched slightly. "Would you ... uh ... gentlemen please remove your hats?" "Now look here," Toffee said. "There's no use getting petty about this thing." She nodded toward the vacant chair on the other side of the table. "Sit down, and I'll explain everything." The waiter gazed on her with heavy disdain. "I can't sit down," he said.