Marc and Toffee stared at each other with silent bewilderment; they were completely nonplussed. Slowly they got out of the car and presented themselves on the sidewalk.
"Now, just a minute, boys ..." Marc said.
"Shut up," Gerald snarled. "Our car is right behind you. Get in the back seat and sit quietly."
Toffee turned and looked at the black sedan. "I wish that thing didn't look so much like a hearse," she said unhappily.
"It's going to look more like a hearse if you don't shut up and do what we say," Cecil said.
With that clammy piece of news, Marc and Toffee advanced to the forbidding vehicle in question and deposited themselves stiffly in the back seat. Cecil and his gun joined them in the back, while Gerald climbed into the front and started the engine.
"It's so embarrassing," Toffee said disconsolately as they pulled away from the curb. "That's what hurts; being shoved around like this by a pair of subnormal pygmies."
"Where are you taking us?" Marc asked. "What do you want with us?"
"None of your business," Cecil answered promptly. "And what do you care?"
"Oh, go on, Cecil," Gerald said from the front, guiding the cumbersome automobile through traffic. "Tell them. They're going to find out anyway."