The face was joined by a hand bearing the money bag. "Here," he said, "I din' take nothin' outa it." "Don't you want it?" the girl asked. "Let's do it over again," the thug said. "Only this time give it a little somethin', will yuh? Scream and carry on a little bit so's I can get the feel of it better." "Oh, okay," the girl said listlessly. She accepted the bag and returned to Marc and Toffee. "Whatta pest," she said. "All day all he does is hold me up, that's all, just hold me up. I get tired of it." "Doesn't the manager mind this sort of thing?" Marc asked. "Geez, no," the girl said. "The manager don't mind anything any more. Why should he? He'll cork off just as fast as the janitor when the bombs drop." At this juncture the thug stepped from behind the glove display, waving his gun excitedly. "This is a stickup!" he announced. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," the girl murmured. "What else?" "Go on an' scream," the bandit said in a lower tone. "You said you would. You promised." "So okay," the girl agreed. She turned to Marc and Toffee. "You see how it is--borin'." Then she threw back her head and gave vent to a shriek that echoed back from the high ceiling with all the painful discord of a trainload of jealous opera stars going through an underpass in full voice. When it was over she leaned back on the counter and stifled a yawn. "So was it okay?" she asked. "Not bad," the bandit said admiringly. "Now hand over the dough and git down on the floor!" "Aw, have a heart," the girl said. "I've been down on the floor so much today I'm beginning to feel like a dust mop." She nodded to Marc and Toffee. "Make them get down on the floor for a change." The thug glanced around, then quickly away. "I couldn't!" he whispered. "They're total strangers!" "Take the money and git," the girl said. "And don't come bringin' it back, 'cause I'm through for today. I'm bushed." "Okay," the thug said. "Okay. You don't have to get sore about it!" Drawing himself up, he departed in a huff of indignation. "Now," the girl said. "What was it you wanted?" But just then the hand of the purse snatcher eased up to the counter and started edging toward her. She reached out and dealt it a stinging blow. "Sometimes he takes it into his head to pinch some things that ain't purses," she explained. "A girl's got to keep an eye on the shifty little devil or she might get the shock of her life." "Where could we find the manager of the store?" Marc asked. "I think if we talked to him directly...." * * * * * Just then from across the store came the fearsome sound of steel jaws closing with a vicious snap, this accompanied by the clatter of chains and a blood-chilling shriek of pain. "That's the manager now," the girl said unconcernedly. "I guess Dolly's got him trapped again. I'd know his scream anywhere." "Trapped?" Toffee asked.