"I'll kill him!" Toffee cried. "I'll kill him with my own two hands! Look here, you jelly-headed gendarme, these two are dangerous criminals!"
"Criminals?" the cop said. "Them? Why they wouldn't hurt a fly. Just look at their faces."
Toffee looked at the Blemishes, then came close to choking. The twins had assumed expressions of angelic innocence such as might have been equalled only by Little Eva in the moment of her ascension.
"Why, you dirty little frauds!" she hissed.
"All right," the cop said, "you'll have to get along now; you're blocking traffic."
As Gerald set the gear and put the car in motion once more, Toffee fell back in her seat, weak with emotion.
"There's one guy I'll enjoy seeing blown into space," she said. "I hope he gets air sick."
The mood in the car deepened after that, and there was silence. Gerald made a left turn and headed the car away from the center of the city. Marc and Toffee stared pensively at the passing scene while Cecil hummed a soundless tune and smiled annoyingly over private thoughts; presumably of the devastating thing he and his brother were planning to do. Evening deepened into final night and lights began to glitter everywhere. And then the incident of the door occurred.
It was just as Gerald brought the car to a stop at an intersection that the door promptly opened itself, wavered for a moment, then closed. Unmistakably it marked George's arrival. Toffee looked up sharply.