For the enfeebled couple it was a long, tortuous climb to the fourth floor and to Marc's office. When they finally made it, they both collapsed into chairs and regarded each other bleakly.
"This is worse than being children," Toffee wheezed. "I could die."
"You may," Marc said morosely. "We've got one foot in the grave already. Anyway," he went on, "Agatha and Chadwick are taken care of."
"It hardly seems worth it," Toffee said, "when things turn out this way. No matter what punishment they get, it'll never be as bad as what's happened to us."
They both sat up as the door to the outer office whined open and slammed to. Footsteps rattled through the silence, and then the door to Marc's office edged open to make way for a small, ferret-like face.
"There he is," Toffee said. "The cause of it all. If I had the strength I'd strangle the little devil with my own two hands."
Mr. Culpepper looked at them with interest. "I was afraid this would happen," he said brightly. "I tried to warn you not to drink any more liquor, but you wouldn't listen. Now your chemical action has been reversed. If you'd only waited twenty-four hours you'd have been all right." He shoved the door open and stepped inside. "My!" he murmured, patting dust from his clothes. "I certainly had to run to get away from those cops. Why didn't you follow me?"
"We didn't have to," Toffee replied. "Thanks to you, there isn't a soul in the world who would recognize us."
"Yes, yes," Mr. Culpepper said, smiling. "We'll fix that up right away. I have it all worked out. If you take the original dose of two pills you should return to what you were before you grew old. And there shouldn't be any permanent after-effects."
"No!" Marc said. With a palsied hand he boosted his wasted frame out of the chair. "No more of those pills. Heaven only knows what they might do next."