"They're gone!" she said. "They've gotten away. And after all the trouble we've gone through to bring those two crooks to justice!" A look of speculation crept into her eyes, and she turned to the nearest cop. She grabbed his arm with an urgent hand. "My babies!" she wailed dramatically. "My babies! They're gone. You've got to find them! You've got to! I'll kill myself!" "What's that?" the cop asked mildly. "I'll kill myself, Dumbo," Toffee said sourly. "Go get my babies. They've run away." "I don't blame 'em. Where did they go?" "How should I know?" "Kill yourself, lady," the cop said tiredly. "I'm too worn out." "Why you...!" Toffee started. A sudden shriek from the foyer interrupted her. It was a scream with a purpose in life, it was ambitious, it was soul searing and nerve shattering. In a body, the cops and the apprehended fugitives ran to the doorway. Then they stopped, completely stunned by the spectacle before them. Two lank and very mature figures, clothed only to the essential degree in brief scraps of black velvet, were crawling serenely across the foyer floor. The ancient librarian, holding onto her counter to keep from slipping to the floor, was screaming her dreadful head off. The Harpers, apparently in the midst of escape, had suddenly and quite unbeknownst to themselves been restored to adulthood. At each movement the velvet wrappings were slipping a bit further afield. A number of people, some with books in their hands, were standing about the room in attitudes of fascinated bewilderment. Beyond the apparent chronological transformation, even stranger changes had been wrought in the Harpers. Their faces were no longer the works of art that they had previously been. Agatha was definitely moon faced, in a wall-eyed, colorless sort of way, and Chadwick's handsome features appeared suddenly to have been run over by a steam roller. "Holy gee!" one of the cops breathed, recovering from the first shock of surprise. "It's the homicidal Harpers!" "What a catch!" his companion exclaimed excitedly. "We'll both get promoted, sure. Agnes and Chester Harper! They're wanted for things that ain't even got a name yet ... in five continents!" In light of this sensational development, the ambitious policemen hastily abandoned their captives and started in pursuit of the Harpers. Agatha and Chadwick, at the sound of running footsteps, glanced up, caught glimpses of each other and became instantly animated. Springing quickly to their feet, they frantically clutched their brief coverings to them where they would do the most good, and started to run, their bare feet slapping dully against the tiled floor. They raced through the entrance and out onto the sidewalk, the policemen in hot pursuit. At the other end of the room Toffee plucked urgently at the sleeves of Marc and Mr. Culpepper. "Why hang around?" she asked, motioning them back toward the bookshelves. "Follow me, men." * * * * *