Toffee drew her brief tunic closer around her. "Ghost or no ghost," she said icily, "I'll not be referred to as that naked lady." The ghost looked at her appraisingly. "You may not be any lady," he said, "but you are certainly naked." "For heaven's sake!" Marc cried desperately. "This is no time to be going on about naked ladies." "It's as good a time as any," Toffee said pertly. "You stay out of this. It may develop into something interesting." Her hold on the tunic relaxed slightly. "Naked ladies don't grow on trees, you know." "I don't care if they grow in ash cans!" Marc rasped, a little out of control. "I don't care about naked ladies at all!" "You don't?" The ghost stared at Marc wonderingly. "No, I don't! What I care about is this mess you've gotten me into. It's got to be straightened out!" "Oh, that," the ghost said, suddenly unconcerned. "That's easy, now that I think about it. There was some sort of slip up this morning, but I'm sure it was all your own doing. Our office never makes mistakes. All you have to do now is just bump yourself off, and everything will be all right. Better late than never, I suppose." "What!" The word shot from Marc's mouth like a handful of gravel. "You expect me to commit suicide just for the sake of your precious records! I never heard of anything so callous!" "Oh, come now, old man," the spirit smiled blandly. "Let's not be sentimental about it. Why don't you just toddle down to the corner and slip quietly under a truck?" Suddenly he burped and his legs, in simultaneous accompaniment, disappeared up to the knees. For a moment he seemed to hover, half-legless, in mid-air. Looking down at this curious phenomenon, he smiled apologetically. "It's the liquor," he said. "Can't handle my ectoplasm worth a damn when I'm drinking." Closing his eyes, he seemed to concentrate a moment, and the legs reappeared in their entirety. He looked up, beaming proudly. "Oh, good grief," Toffee moaned. "As long as I live I'll never see anything worse than that!" "And now," the spirit began, turning to Marc, "as I was saying...." "No!" Marc looked like an animal at bay. * * * * * Moving to the chair, the spirit sat down, crossed his legs and elegantly lifted the bottle from the floor. After a long swallow, he looked up and shook his head. "It's on the books that you're dead, and I've got my ectoplasm and a job to do. I don't care what you do, I'm going to stay and haunt this place." He crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. Marc glanced up peevishly. "_Haunt_ this place?" he said sarcastically. "A wrecking crew could do the same thing, if that's what you call it."