"They're something like you," Marc said absently. "Sometimes they are, and sometimes they aren't. Anyway, I understand they're always raising hell with somebody." "They sound fine," Toffee said. "How do you go about stirring up a few?" "Never mind," Marc replied, "we wouldn't have time for it, even if you could. Besides, no self-respecting spook would have anything to do with you. He'd rather be caught dead." "Oh yeah?" Toffee said unexpectedly. "I'll bet I'm looking at one right now." "Nonsense." "If you don't believe me," Toffee said woundedly, "just look over there." Humoring her, Marc turned his gaze in the direction that she had indicated, and suddenly froze. A claw-like hand was moving stealthily around the edge of a nearby head stone, and the effect was something worse than ghostly. [Illustration: Marc and Toffee stood petrified as a claw-like hand and wizened head crept into view.] Transfixed, Marc watched it as it came to rest at the foot of the stone, and was suddenly followed by a wizened head. Marc tried hard to suppress a gasp of astonishment as he identified the ferret-like face as the same one that had appeared beneath the table at the club. He had only a moment in which to recognize it, for as before, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, to be followed by the clicking sounds, that now echoed weirdly through the cemetery. "Oh, that's not a spook," Toffee said disappointedly, and then, on second thought added, "at least I don't think it is." "You bet it isn't," Marc cried, jumping quickly to his feet. "That's probably the guy that's got my brief case!" Swiftly, he took a step forward, caught his toe on a low marker, and sprawled, head long, into a landing that was all grin and gravel. His breath unhesitatingly rushed out to meet the night air, and apparently liked the company, for it didn't bother to come back for a while. In the ensuing stillness, hasty footsteps could be heard making their way out of the cemetery. "Well, that's that, I guess," Marc groaned morosely, then he had regained his breath. "I scared him away, and he was my last chance. And to think that he was right next to us in the night club all the time!" He sat up and rested his chin defeatedly in his cupped hands. "With my wife gone, and my business gone, I might just as well go away and try to forget it all right now." "Maybe you could go where those other men went," Toffee said in a baffling attempt to be helpful. "What other men?" "The ones that work for you. You said they'd gone cavorting, and that sounds pretty forgetful. Did they have something to forget?" "No. They all got urgent telegrams." "Who from?" "How should I know?"