"If you press that trigger," the doctor said calmly, "I'll press this button." His hand was already moving across the desk.
Marc swung quickly out of his chair, but overlooked the fact that one foot was still twisted nervously around a metallic leg. It was a disastrous oversight. The tardy foot, working in stiff opposition to his urgent forward movement, he sprawled awkwardly in mid-air, then came down, head-first, on the gleaming floor. Coming to haphazard rest, he rolled over, grinned foolishly, and closed his eyes in involuntary slumber. He was out like a cat at night.
The minute Marc's eyes closed, the gun skittered chatteringly across the floor. Toffee couldn't have held it any longer, if she'd wanted to. She'd vanished into thin air.
Dr. Herrigg stared bewilderedly at an area which, to his scientific mind, had no right to be vacant. A moment ago it had been occupied by a highly disconcerting young lady with red hair. Now, it was as empty as a rejected lover's heart. He passed a hand over his eyes, then looked again. It was still empty.
Something cool and damp struck Marc across the face, and he opened his eyes to find the doctor peering anxiously down at him, a cloth in his hand.
"Where is the girl?" he demanded.
Marc sat up and stared at him blankly, wondering the same thing. Toffee should be materialized, now that he was conscious again.
"I don't know. You haven't done anything to her?"
"Of course not. She was right here when you fell. She simply vanished."