"Very shrewd," Toffee said. "Reminds one of the tactics of sulky children. And this You Know Who, I suppose, is the head of the government there?" * * * * * The congressman reached across the desk and drew a newspaper toward them. On the front page was the picture of an elderly man in a short choke-collar effect. He had penetrating eyes and a drooping mustache. "Oh," Toffee said, "you mean...!" "You Know Who," the congressman supplied quickly. "Of course," Toffee agreed. "Then as I see it the country is faced with the question of whether You Know Who from You Know Where is going to drop you know what on the USA?" "Not whether," the congressman amended, "but when. Otherwise, you have stated the situation in a nutshell." "And I can't think of a better place for it either," Toffee murmured. "Outside of a pecan pie it's the nuttiest situation I've ever heard of." "Well," the congressman said, "there's nothing to be done about it now. Unless, of course, your secret weapon has some bearing on the crisis. But I doubt it. We've piled secret weapon on secret weapon and the situation has simply worsened with each one. It's very disheartening." "I see," Toffee reflected. "It makes a murky state of affairs. However, if you could get people away from the idea of blowing each other up and reduce them to the oldfashioned, intimate methods of warfare...." "Oh, Lord!" Marc moaned aggrievedly. "Well," the congressman sighed, "he's still in the religious cycle at least." At that moment the door opened at the far end of the room, and a heavy-lidded French maid appeared in the opening and leaned exhaustedly against the sill. "Someone smeared a French pastry on the woodwork," Toffee commented dryly. "I have served the gentlemen in the hall tea for three hours," the maid sighed, shoving her hair out of her eyes. "They are the devil himself. They play funloving games, like children." She paused and sighed again. "Dinner is served, I presume." The congressman boosted himself out of his chair. "I will speak to those funloving gorillas in person," he said. He turned to Toffee. "Are you hungry, my dear?" "Famished," Toffee said, and looked at Marc. "And you?" "Yeah," Marc said dolefully. "My wife is gone, my business is ruined, my world is about to go up in smoke--but what the heck!" He turned a sardonic eye on the congressman. "Lead on," he said. "Play, gypsy, play!" * * * * * Toffee sat down gingerly on the corner of the bed and surveyed the congressman's best guest room with voluptuous appreciation. It was a production in lace and rococo gilt in which the curly-cued, beflounced bed was lost like a fireworks display in a gaudy sunset. Toffee only regretted that such splendor, for her part, was only to be wasted.