Just then the elevator doors slid back to disclose Dolly, the impassioned wild-gamester, struggling with the stringy vagaries of an enormous tuna net. She staggered forward and paused to disentangle a cork float from the door latch. Then, hunched forward under her burden, she started determinedly toward the salon. "On the scent again already?" Toffee inquired amiably. Dolly stopped and peered back over her muscular shoulder. "Uh-huh," she panted. "Only this time I've got a switcheroo for the sonofagun. This time I not only toss him into the trap but fling myself in after him." She winked. "Get it?" "In detail," Toffee said. She turned to Marc. "Isn't it nice to meet a girl who knows her own mind--even when it's cracked seven ways to Sunday?" "You should know," Marc glowered. "You should damned well know, you little heller." Congressman Bloodsop's study was a mammoth vault paneled solidly with the finest oak that purloined money could buy. It was vast-ceilinged and set solidly at one end with leaded windows of a thousand panes. Beyond the windows, like a magazine illustration, one could see formal gardens softened with twilight. To Toffee's mind it fairly stank with class. * * * * * From the depths of her leather-covered chair, she lowered her coffee cup to the table and observed the spectacle of Congressman Bloodsop sitting like a high magistrate behind a kennel-sized mahogany desk. "Do the guards _have_ to stay outside in the hallway?" she asked. "Won't they be lonesome?" "A matter of form, dear," the congressman said. "Looks good. Besides, I've told the maid to give them tea." Marc standing beside the fireplace stirred with agitation. "Mr. Bloodsop...!" The congressman raised his eyes with slow patience. "Young man," he said evenly. "Is there something the matter with you? What is this curious compulsion of yours to rasp my name every few minutes? If you have something to say, say it." "Yes, Marc," Toffee said sweetly. "Don't let the congressman think you're dull." Marc choked, presumably with emotion. "I only wanted to inquire just why I can't use the telephone to try to find my wife?" he said in a strained voice. "Another matter of form," the congressman said. "Good heavens, man, do you really care so much to find your wife? It's the most extraordinary thing I've ever heard of. I must remind you that you and the young lady now constitute a matter for official inquiry." Marc clenched his fists tight at his sides. "Oh, Christ!" he wailed. "At least he's shouting for someone else for a change," the congressman said complacently. "An erratic type. Subversives usually are, though. Next he'll be calling for Phillip Morris." "Poor Marc," Toffee put in appealingly. "He just can't bring himself to view the end of civilization with the same happy composure the rest of us do. It upsets him."