Memphis gasped. Then she turned to Marc. "Tell me, sonny," she said, "how does your sister like her spankings ... sunny side up or over easy? Or are you a wiseacre too? Now, look here...." She stopped short as her gaze fell on Marc's sagging costume. Her eyes grew wise and fearful. "You're wearing Mr. Pillsworth's suit!" she shrieked. "What have you done to him?" "You'd be surprised, Bertha," Toffee sneered. "In my opinion it wasn't half what he deserved." For a moment Memphis was struck dumb. Then her voice came back to her in a lusty scream. She wheeled around and charged out of the room. A second later there was the sound of a telephone dial being put into frenzied motion. Memphis was bawling for the police even as she dialed. Marc, who had remained in a state of mental and physical paralysis during this disquieting interview, suddenly came to life. "Now see what you've done!" he piped in his child's voice. "Why couldn't you tell her the truth?" "She'd have to be daffy to believe it," Toffee said. "Besides, I didn't like her attitude; she was treating me like a child." "Now we'll have to run for it," Marc said. "Once the police get hold of us, we'll never find Culpepper." They left the office through the rear door and made their way quickly down the hall to the fire escape window. Marc pointed to a blue convertible in the parking lot below. "We'll have to try to drive the thing somehow," he said. "After we've gotten away, we'll do what we can about getting in touch with Culpepper." "I'd like to get in touch with him," Toffee lisped, "with a crowbar." As Marc was boosting Toffee over the sill and onto the fire escape, a nearby door opened and a large, florid woman stepped into the hallway. She stopped at the sight of the children and observed their activities with alarm. "Here, here, kiddies," she said, looking maternal, "you mustn't play out there; you might get hurt. Where are your mummy and daddy?" "Down at the hoosegow," Toffee said evilly. "Mummy's bailing daddy out for peddling hashish at the orphans' picnic. What's it to you?" "Oh, dear!" the woman exclaimed. "You poor, little, neglected, underprivileged things!" She started forward but was suddenly stopped by a warning glance from Toffee. "Better stay out of this, fatso," Toffee cooed. "You might get your girdle fractured." The woman turned red. Then she swung around and continued abruptly down the hall. "Little monsters!" she snorted. "Hope they break their dirty, little underprivileged necks!" * * * * *