Together they hastened down the stairs. On the first floor the guard led the way to the study and switched on the lights. He watched Toffee with concern as she swept past him into the room. "My, miss," he said. "You're looking paler every minute. You'll soon be nothing more than a ghost the way you're going." Heedless, Toffee ran to the desk. There she reached for the globe and turned it with a hurried hand. The guard joined her curiously. "Let's see," Toffee mused. "We're here. You Know Where is there. If you concentrated in a straight line in that direction...." "Miss," the guard said softly. "I'm sure Miss Sylvia Pinkham wouldn't like it at all...." "And I wouldn't like Miss Sylvia Pinkham at all," Toffee said shortly. She turned back to the globe. "This must be the capital of You Know Where, this heavy black dot over here. It is, isn't it?" "Yes, Miss. But if you're thinking of going there, they won't let you in, you know. There's the Brass Curtain." "I thought it was iron," Toffee said. "It used to be. But after a few dealings with those people everyone decided it must be brass." Without comment Toffee snatched up the newspaper and studied the picture of You Know Who as though she were committing the unlovely features to memory. Finally she set it aside and turned to the guard. "There now," she said. "I think I've got everything fairly straight in mind. There's just one thing. Mr. Pillsworth is going to sleep now. Don't let him sleep too long--just a little while, then wake him up." "Are you certain he'll want to...?" the guard began. "Don't forget," Toffee said positively. "It's a matter of life and death." "Well, okay," the guard agreed. "I'll tell him you said...!" Then, with a gasp, the poor man's voice descended down his throat with the gritty rattle of a parcel of bones dumped into a disposal. As he watched, shaken to the very roots of his soul, the girl by the desk gradually faded into thin air.... * * * * * Dusk had come to a distant land. Toffee stood in the formidable square and looked with disfavor on the great concrete pilings that brooded over the clear area in the center and isolated it from the waning light of day. Functional architecture, with frippery--cold, grey and starkly oppressive. Very functional, like a straight jacket, and just as pleasant to look at. There were hardly any signs of human life. A couple of men, so grey and so gross that they seemed only a part of the buildings around them, lumbered down the steps of the largest and most formidable of the structures, stopped to look at Toffee curiously, then passed on. Toffee shrugged and turned toward the building from which they had just come. The best way to obtain information, after all, was to ask someone for it. And if those men had just come from the building, life must exist inside the place in spite of appearances.