A howl of outrage issued from the mountain of books at her side. A few slid from the top of the pile and the head of the deluged policeman jutted into view, eyes ablaze. "You haven't increased my insurance value either, sister," he said bitterly. He burrowed his way to freedom and gained his feet, staring evilly at the diminutive cause of his downfall. "I—hate—you," he said with heavy emphasis.
By the time Toffee and the cops arrived at the end of the section, Marc and Mr. Culpepper were just beginning to stir. Apparently their nervous systems had suffered the bulk of the damage, for they were not noticeably marked. The cops took them into hand.
"Fun's over boys!" the more unruffled of them said. "You won't go sky-larking again for a long, long time."
In the meantime, Toffee was staring back into the aisle, searching out the shelf on which she had last seen the infant Harpers. She made a little cry of surprise. The shelf was empty.
"They're gone!" she said. "They've gotten away. And after all the trouble we've gone through to bring those two crooks to justice!" A look of speculation crept into her eyes, and she turned to the nearest cop. She grabbed his arm with an urgent hand. "My babies!" she wailed dramatically. "My babies! They're gone. You've got to find them! You've got to! I'll kill myself!"
"What's that?" the cop asked mildly.
"I'll kill myself, Dumbo," Toffee said sourly. "Go get my babies. They've run away."
"I don't blame 'em. Where did they go?"
"How should I know?"