"Now, why be difficult? We'd be just crazy to have you capture us some other time, but right now.... It's not that you're not perfectly sinister and all that.... Now put those guns away and go spy on someone else for a while." "No," said Cecil. "Huh-uh." "Huh-uh," Gerald echoed. Marc leaned forward impatiently. "Look here," he said firmly. "I don't have time for any more of this nonsense. I've got to get home. Now either you get off this car or you don't, but I'm leaving." For a moment the brothers looked at each other in sad consultation. Then, as though having reached a decision by telepathy, they simultaneously quitted the side of the car and stood back a pace. Marc threw the car into gear and prepared to leave. However, just as he was pressing down on the accelerator the whole street suddenly boomed with the sound of gunfire. The car jarred forward, then settled into a lop-sided stop. The Blemishes grinned happily on their handiwork; they had air-conditioned both tires on the right side. * * * * * Attracted by the sound, one of the officers in front of the Wynant started forward, but Cecil waved him back. "Just a blowout!" he called. He pointed to the crippled car. "We'll see that he gets fixed up." The officer nodded and went back to his chores with the Wynant guests. "Why, you little...!" Marc grated. "Holy smoke!" Toffee broke in, staring steadily at the two brothers. "Those kids are using real bullets and everything!" "That's what we've been trying to tell you," Cecil said mildly. "We're just as mean as we can be." "You certainly are," Toffee agreed. "You're just about the most awful little grubs I've ever run into." "Sugary phrases aren't going to get you anywhere," Gerald said virtuously. "Now get out of that car and come with us." Marc and Toffee stared at each other with silent bewilderment; they were completely nonplussed. Slowly they got out of the car and presented themselves on the sidewalk. "Now, just a minute, boys ..." Marc said. "Shut up," Gerald snarled. "Our car is right behind you. Get in the back seat and sit quietly." Toffee turned and looked at the black sedan. "I wish that thing didn't look so much like a hearse," she said unhappily. "It's going to look more like a hearse if you don't shut up and do what we say," Cecil said. With that clammy piece of news, Marc and Toffee advanced to the forbidding vehicle in question and deposited themselves stiffly in the back seat. Cecil and his gun joined them in the back, while Gerald climbed into the front and started the engine. "It's so embarrassing," Toffee said disconsolately as they pulled away from the curb. "That's what hurts; being shoved around like this by a pair of subnormal pygmies." "Where are you taking us?" Marc asked. "What do you want with us?" "None of your business," Cecil answered promptly. "And what do you care?"