"What a lovely little nest," Toffee murmured. "It looks so died in." She turned to Agatha. "With all this, you must feel just like a bird in a gilded cage. A vulture."
"We do not live here," Agatha returned distantly. "We felt, however, that it was more than sufficient for Mr. Culpepper until we were done with him. It will do for you and your little friend, too, now that you're here." She gestured toward the stairway with her gun. "Shall we go up?"
Marc and Toffee, with Mr. Culpepper between them, started up the stairs, and Agatha, Chadwick and their pistols followed. Under their tread the ancient boards screamed threateningly, and the sound echoed weirdly all around them.
"You know, Agatha," Chadwick said suddenly, "just seeing these youngsters has made me rather thoughtful."
"Indeed?" Agatha rejoined.
"Yes, quite." A mellow tone had come into Chadwick's voice. "I was wondering, dear, if it wouldn't be rather nice if we had some children of our own. What do you think, eh?"
"I see no reason why we couldn't," Agatha said agreeably. "There are any number of really well-bred children roving the streets these days. There would be nothing to kidnapping a couple of the nicest."
"No, no," Chadwick said. "That's not what I mean. I thought we might have some that were really our own."
"How common!" Agatha exclaimed, truly shocked. "Really, Chadwick!"
"You've no sentiment, Aggie," Chadwick said, a shade of reproach in his voice.