Though Toffee had no way of knowing it, one aborigine inquired of the other if they were eye to eye in the opinion that they were seeing things. The other replied in the affirmative, adding that if it were not illegal to entertain such notions, he might venture that they had just been bypassed by an angel from heaven. Of course, since everyone knew that heaven and angels did not exist, the notion was silly.
"Nothing descends from heaven but bombs," his companion observed with native starkness. "The Great Leader has said it is so."
"Then it is so, and we are only the victims of a delusion."
Shrugging their massive shoulders they returned to their posts and hoped for the best.
Inside the building Toffee found herself confronted by a wide foyer from which innumerable corridors stretched away in all directions. Guards of a similar stamp to those who had accosted her on the steps literally infested the place, two to the corridor. They seemed so much a part of the sombre decor, however, that Toffee did not notice them at once. She had proceeded nearly to the center of the room before, overtaken by a certain feeling of uneasiness, she stopped and reconnoitered.
As she glanced around, the walls began to bristle with bayonets. She appraised this nasty state of affairs with concern and decided to adopt the policy of the congressman and his colleagues. A song on her lips, if not in her heart, she fixed her eyes straight ahead on the center corridor and resumed nonchalantly in that direction—perhaps if she pretended that these bayoneted orangoutangs were beneath her notice they might go away and leave her alone. They didn't appear to be the friendly, informative type anyway.
For one brief moment it seemed that the ruse, by dint of sheer boldness, was going to work. Toffee was almost to the corridor when one of the benumbed guards suddenly began to vocalize in an overwrought fashion. In a voice that slammed against the vaulted ceiling like a trumpet blast he shouted something that sounded loosely like, "Gamnovitch!" His tone did not convey the feeling of warm welcome. Toffee, sizing the situation up as the sort that only comes to a head with delay, bolted.
She darted into the corridor and kept going at a pace that utilized her lovely legs to the utmost. A noisy clatter from the rear, however, told her that she was not in the sprint just for exercise. She renewed her efforts. Then suddenly stopped.
It wasn't so much that the corridor terminated in a huge doorway only a few yards ahead—though that was bad news enough—the real thing was that before the door there stood not two but four enormous guards, supplied like the others with those ugly weapons. The guards and Toffee caught sight of each other simultaneously, but the really filthy part of it was that the surprise element in the incident shoved the guards into action while it only held Toffee motionless.