Marc pressed his hands to his temples and sank lower in his seat.
"What!" the Chair said. "You're the young woman known as Toffee?"
"The same," Toffee said complacently. "The very same."
"How did you get there on the stand all of a sudden?"
"Ask me no questions," Toffee said, "and you'll reduce the lie expectancy by at least fifty percent."
Marc's forlorn moan was lost as the Chair cleared his throat. He flicked a pencil in Marc's direction. "Take your place over there with your confederate, please."
"Sure," Toffee said. Abandoning her perch, she leaped lightly to the floor and shoved off in Marc's direction, pausing on the way to pat Congressman Bloodsop on the head. The congressman winked at her, withdrew the pocket flask which had been affixed to his mouth and wiped his lips genteelly on the back of his hand.
"Government," Toffee observed, settling herself happily at Marc's side, "is much the same the world over—full of medicinal purposes."
"Why did you have to show up now?" Marc asked sourly. "They'd have called the whole thing off in another few minutes."
"That's what I like," Toffee said, patting his hand, "a rousing welcome from the one you left behind."