As Gerald set the gear and put the car in motion once more, Toffee fell back in her seat, weak with emotion. "There's one guy I'll enjoy seeing blown into space," she said. "I hope he gets air sick." The mood in the car deepened after that, and there was silence. Gerald made a left turn and headed the car away from the center of the city. Marc and Toffee stared pensively at the passing scene while Cecil hummed a soundless tune and smiled annoyingly over private thoughts; presumably of the devastating thing he and his brother were planning to do. Evening deepened into final night and lights began to glitter everywhere. And then the incident of the door occurred. * * * * * It was just as Gerald brought the car to a stop at an intersection that the door promptly opened itself, wavered for a moment, then closed. Unmistakably it marked George's arrival. Toffee looked up sharply. "George?" she said, and her voice was almost hopeful. There was silence. Gerald glanced around with a smile. "Did you see the door open and close just now?" he asked without alarm. "Uh-huh," Cecil said casually. "A ghost, I guess," Gerald said. "You two may think you're joking," Toffee said. "It really was a ghost." "We know," Cecil said. "Gerald and I believe in ghosts. Always have. We've had quite a few of them around from time to time. At least we think we have; ghosts are hard to tell about sometimes." Gerald turned to the empty space beside him. "Make yourself comfortable, ghost," he said graciously. "Just knock twice when you want to get out." "You see," Toffee said to Marc. "They're getting crazier by the minute." Then she paused thoughtfully. "Or are we?" "Pretty tough getting a ride at this time of night, I imagine," Gerald was saying chattily to thin air. "Particularly being a ghost and all." He waited but there was no answer. He turned back to Cecil. "Doesn't want to talk, I guess." Then, as the traffic ahead began to move, he shifted gears and started forward. Thus occupied, he didn't notice that his revolver had suddenly become possessed of a life of its own; he didn't see it nose out of his pocket and take flight into the air. Toffee nudged Marc excitedly. "Look," she whispered. "He's going to help us." Together they watched breathlessly as the gun moved furtively upward. Then they started with surprise and horror as it righted itself and pointed its muzzle purposefully in Marc's direction. "No, George!" Toffee cried. "Don't shoot! It's those two you want! They're planning to blow up the city and float it away. Liquor and all, George!"