Marc was already doing it. Aiming at the ceiling, he brought a shower of plaster thunderously down over the scene of the battle. The Harpers instantly became transfixed, a frozen study of hand-to-hand combat. Leaning over the table, their faces almost together, they stared fixedly at each other through a screen of fingers. They had the look of people suddenly remembering something very important. "Hands up!" Toffee piped. * * * * * The Harpers came to life in the same moment and reacted with their customary single-mindedness. Two pairs of hands shot into the air, and as a result the bottle crashed to the top of the desk, pills rolling in all directions. The desk and portions of the floor around the desk seemed to have been the scene of a recent snowstorm. "I'll keep them covered," Toffee told Marc. "You get the police." "The police?" Marc said. "How will we explain who they are? With their new faces, I mean. For that matter, how will we explain who _we_ are? The cops are looking for us, too, you know." "I see what you mean," Toffee said thoughtfully. "It's rather an impasse, isn't it?" She turned to Mr. Culpepper who, roused by the sound of the shot, was now weaving his way toward them. "What about that antidote?" she asked him. "If whiskey's supposed to restore us, heaven knows we've had whiskey aplenty." "Takes time," the little man said thickly. "Mustn't expect miracles, you know." "Oh, mustn't I?" Toffee said with sudden heat. "You change me into a miserable little blob of flab and then you have the gall to tell me not to expect miracles. That's a laugh ... a fair howl." The little man chuckled. "It is rather humorous, isn't it?" he said. "I ought to kick in your bridgework," Toffee said dully. "You don't like me," Mr. Culpepper said with no particular expression. "You think I'm disgusting." "You think you're kidding," Toffee said. "You've just shown real insight." "Thank you," the little man said gravely. "Sometimes I think...." In a start of surprise he lurched to one side, grasping a chair for support. His eyes, like Agatha's and Chadwick's, were fastened on Marc and Toffee. Suddenly, the two erstwhile youngsters had begun to stretch upward like a pair of extending telescopes. They were growing and aging with the speed of lightning, it seemed. In a matter of seconds Marc became once again a tall, serious-eyed businessman ... one that had unaccountably rolled up his trousers to go wading. At his side Toffee was again a scantily clad redhead ... a fine figure of a girl with a fine figure. The effect was impressive to say the least. The Harpers gasped in unison. Toffee stretched out one of her exquisite legs and surveyed it with satisfaction. "Well, that's more like it," she said happily. "A girl can really get places with a pair of pins like that." "I told you!" Agatha shrieked. "I told you there was something funny about her. Only it isn't funny!"