"Fancy that!" the little man was shouting. "Just fancy that!" A smile of amazement was on his sharp-featured face. "Have you got it?" Marc asked, running to his side. "I certainly have," Mr. Culpepper said happily. "It was a very difficult experiment, but I got it. And will you be surprised!" "What has he got?" Chadwick asked. "Perhaps it would be better not to ask," Agatha said. "From the way he's been behaving it might be anything." Chadwick nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised. Besides, we've other fish to fry now. Let's be on our way." He started to the door. "I'll get the car started and you bring them down." When he had gone, Agatha stepped over to the doorway and motioned with her gun. "Come, come," she said brightly. "Time to be leaving, everyone." Toffee promptly took to the stairs, but Marc and Mr. Culpepper seemed to hesitate, too absorbed in a whispered conversation to take much note of anything else. "You could have knocked me over with a noodle," Mr. Culpepper was saying. "I simply couldn't believe it at first." "Well, what is it?" Marc asked impatiently. "For Pete's sake, tell me!" The little man leaned closer to Marc's ear. "Common spirits!" he hissed importantly. "Whiskey!" "No!" Marc was incredulous. "You must have made some mist...!" "Here, here," Agatha said, making impatient motions with her gun. "No loitering. I'm really not going to speak to you again." "That's a break," Marc said. He and Mr. Culpepper started forward and as they passed the inverted crate in the center of the room Marc dropped momentarily behind. When he emerged a moment later a rather singular bulge had appeared in the region of his shirt front, and he was clutching his stomach. "What's the matter with you?" Agatha asked wearily. "Bellyache," Marc announced flatly, struggling past her. "You make me sick at my stomach." Agatha's expression became pained. "Vile little boy," she murmured. * * * * * It was dark when the delivery truck nosed out of the alley and headed back toward the city. Having locked the doors to the rear compartment from the outside, Agatha had taken her place beside Chadwick in the front, her pistol draped elegantly over her shoulder. She had been keeping a sharp eye trained toward the compartment, but it was too dark back there for her to see much. Her charges, however, seemed disinclined toward revolt. In fact, as the trip wore on, they appeared to become positively hilarious about the whole thing. Soft tittering occasionally issued from the darkness, sometimes interlaced with boisterous guffaws. Agatha wondered about this but didn't discover the reason for it until the truck reached its destination and pulled to a stop in the parking lot behind Marc's office building. When she unlocked the doors and reopened them, Marc, Toffee and Mr. Culpepper peered out at her owlishly, swaying together in silent harmony.