"We surrender!" they yelped in unison.
Then Cecil turned around, saw Toffee, the gun in her hand. He reached out and took it from her.
"You're not supposed to have that," he said woundedly. "What kind of prisoner are you, anyway?"
"Sorry," Toffee said. "It was an emergency."
Then she ran to Marc, followed by the Blemishes, and began to scrape some of the debris from his head and shoulders. No sooner had she arrived, however, than another crisis loomed on the horizon. The door of the dining room flew open and the manager of the Wynant, accompanied by two of the city's finest, ran inside.
"Arrest them all!" the manager screamed shrilly. "Arrest everybody!"
"Get down!" Toffee said quickly and dragged Marc with her to cover beneath the nearest table. The Blemishes followed swiftly after.
In the deathly stillness that ensued, the manager and the two policeman advanced menacingly into the room. Then suddenly they stopped as a jangling sound broke the quiet. It was as though a handful of silver had been dropped to the floor somewhere across the room. It was obvious, however, that there was no one in that direction.
"Okay, Bill," one of the policemen said. "Let's round 'em up!"
In the activity that followed no one noticed the kitchen doors swing open, quietly and slowly, to permit the curious passage of four crawling figures.