Together, he and Toffee began to run. They proceeded swiftly around a corner and down a flight of steps to the floor below. Suddenly Marc stopped.
"What's wrong?" Toffee asked.
"Listen," Marc said. "What's that?"
Toffee listened. Descending footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them. She whirled about. The stairway was unoccupied.
"George," she said disgustedly. "He's following us."
The footsteps stopped guiltily.
"Okay," Marc said, addressing himself to the empty stairs. "It's no use pretending you're not there. You might as well show yourself."
A subdued hiccough echoed out of the emptiness, but that was the extent of George's communication.
"If you're entertaining any notion of bumping me off so you can stay here," Marc warned, "just forget it. I'm alive and I intend to stay that way."
"Just ignore him," Toffee said. "He's bound to get bored and go away if we refuse to pay any attention to him."