Toffee pointed to a door marked JANITOR'S CLOSET. "In there," she said. "Quick!"
They ran to the door, threw it open and darted inside just as their pursuers surged into view at either end of the hallway. They paused in the darkness to listen. As the sounds of the chase continued outside they turned their attention to their new surroundings. The air was close with the heady aroma of cleaning fluid, wax polish and disinfectant.
"Isn't there a light in here?" Toffee asked.
"I can't find one," Marc said. "I've looked all over."
"Well," Toffee said, "at least it's a place to relax for a bit and catch our breath. I just wish it didn't smell so oppressively clean. I was hoping for a bit of dirt tonight—of the right sort, of course."
"You stay on your side of the closet," Marc said, "and I'll stay on mine."
"We'll never get anywhere that way," Toffee said. "Suppose Romeo had taken that attitude with Juliet?"
"They'd both have lived a lot longer," Marc said.
"I suspect that George is in here with us," Toffee said. "I fancy I hear him breathing back there amongst the mops and brooms."
"I suppose he is," Marc said. There was a pause, followed by a number of rattling sounds. "What are you doing?"