It was not that she would not have willingly stayed the night there, had she the choice--but she had not. Being a thought projection of Marc's conscious mind, she would not exist in the material world when Marc slept. She had to return to the land of his imagination until he awoke again; then she would rematerialize wherever she chose. She looked at the bed, imagined the roseate picture of herself amongst the linens and laces, and sighed a sigh of regret. She removed herself from the bed, went to the door and listened. There were sounds; the guard was still there. The other guard would be posted at Marc's door. Toffee glanced at the ornamental clock on the bedstand. It was well after midnight, and she was still in the land of reality. That meant that Marc was still awake--and still worrying about Julie--and the bombs. She crossed to the bed, sat down as before, and ran her hand absently over the lace coverlette. Something had to be done to help Marc before he became a nerve case. It was true that she had gained the attention of the law makers, but now it seemed that the law makers were as irresponsible a group as one could wish for. And there might not be much time left. Something had to be done ... something big ... and in a hurry. If either side could be made to see the sheer idiocy of the situation. If, for instance, You Know Where.... Suddenly Toffee stood up. "My gosh!" she cried. "If I could only...!" She stopped suddenly and a gasp came to her lips. Even as she did so her very being seemed to fade a bit. "Oh, no!" she cried. Then slowly she became more completely materialized again; Marc had yawned. She ran to the door and threw it open. Instantly the guard, a youngish ape in a dark suit, appeared before her. "Yes, miss?" "I've got to see Mr. Pillsworth!" Toffee cried. "He's going to sleep and he mustn't! Not yet." She started forward, but the guard stood firm. "Sorry, miss," he said. "You're not permitted to see Mr. Pillsworth tonight." "But I must!" Toffee cried. "He has to stay awake until...!" "I'm sorry, miss," the guard said, then looked at Toffee more closely. "Aren't you feeling well, Miss? You look a trifle pale around the gills." "And what's worse," Toffee said, "I _feel_ pale too." "Well," the guard said helpfully, "I saw an advertisement once about a lady who recommended a vegetable compound very highly. Of course I couldn't be positive but I believe the lady's name was Sylvia Pinkham, or something of the sort. She was a very kind looking old lady...." * * * * * "Look," Toffee put in distractedly, "could I go to the study if you came with me? It's terribly important." "Well," the guard reckoned, "all right. But don't you think you ought to lie down. This lady ... Sylvia ... seemed to think that other ladies should lie down...." "Blast Sylvia Pinkham," Toffee said. "And blast her compound, too. Come on. Hurry!"