They left the car and entered the Empire, where aisles and counters stretched into the distance over gleaming floors. A dark girl with circles under her eyes lounged dreamily at a counter displaying gloves and handbags. They approached. But just as they did so a short, stocky individual in a turtle-neck sweater hurried up to the girl from the opposite direction. He stopped abruptly and stuck a revolver in the girl's face, waggling it just beneath her nose. Crossing her eyes drowsily, the girl observed the gun, then the man. "Oh, fer Cris'sake," she murmured. "Hand over the cash, sister," the man growled. "Okay," the girl yawned. "Only don't rush me, see?" She reached under the counter and brought forth a bag such as money is kept in. She scratched herself delicately and dropped the bag on the counter. "I figured I'd have it ready this time," she said. "Anything else, sir?" "Yeah," the thug snarled, brandishing the gun anew. "Now lay down on the floor and don't open your trap until I'm gone." "Aw, that corny routine, huh?" the girl sneered. "G'wan!" The girl shrugged indifferently, then boosted herself away from the counter and disappeared slowly beneath its horizon. The thug departed in the direction of the street. For a moment Marc and Toffee were left to ponder this episode in solitude, then the girl slowly reappeared, leaned her elbows on the counter. She swiveled her bored eyes in their direction apathetically. "Yuh want something?" she drawled. "Aren't you going to scream or something?" Toffee asked with quiet curiosity. "Scream?" the girl asked. "What'd I want to scream for?" "Well," Toffee said. "It may be that I'm just the excitable type, but if I'd just been robbed I'd sound off like a crash alarm." "Oh, that," the girl murmured. "That wasn't nothing, honey. Take a look over there." Marc and Toffee gazed in the direction she indicated--a counter laden with expensive handbags. As they looked a hand darted furtively from beneath the counter, grasped one of the bags and instantly disappeared again. A moment later the action was repeated. "What in the...?" Marc said. "A purse snatcher," the girl said. "He's good, too. He can clean out a whole counter in half an hour sometimes." "Don't you care?" Toffee asked. "I should care," the girl shrugged. "They're stealin' the store blind from end to end. What's the diff? What's the store going to do with money when it's blasted off the face of the earth?" * * * * * Toffee and Marc, before they had had time to digest this, were diverted by a small movement at the end of the counter. The face of the thug who had presumably just departed appeared briefly from behind a display of gloves. "_Psst!_" it said. "The place is infested!" Toffee said. "Excuse me," the salesgirl said, "I'll be right back. If you see anything you like just slip it into your stocking, honey." She ambled over to the glove display. "Yeah?" she inquired.