"Let's see," Toffee mused. "We're here. You Know Where is there. If you concentrated in a straight line in that direction...."
"Miss," the guard said softly. "I'm sure Miss Sylvia Pinkham wouldn't like it at all...."
"And I wouldn't like Miss Sylvia Pinkham at all," Toffee said shortly. She turned back to the globe. "This must be the capital of You Know Where, this heavy black dot over here. It is, isn't it?"
"Yes, Miss. But if you're thinking of going there, they won't let you in, you know. There's the Brass Curtain."
"I thought it was iron," Toffee said.
"It used to be. But after a few dealings with those people everyone decided it must be brass."
Without comment Toffee snatched up the newspaper and studied the picture of You Know Who as though she were committing the unlovely features to memory. Finally she set it aside and turned to the guard.
"There now," she said. "I think I've got everything fairly straight in mind. There's just one thing. Mr. Pillsworth is going to sleep now. Don't let him sleep too long—just a little while, then wake him up."
"Are you certain he'll want to...?" the guard began.
"Don't forget," Toffee said positively. "It's a matter of life and death."