Marc shuddered. "A very impressive career," he said, "but you can't get away with it this time. I know that it was you that stole my brief case."
"Yes," Miss Quirtt answered promptly. "And that's why I'm going to have to make corpses of you ... so you can't talk, you know. It's really not my way of doing things, but I suppose that everyone has to make exceptions occasionally." She turned to Toffee and smiled. "I'm sorry to have to put you out of the way, dear, but you understand, I'm sure."
"Oh, perfectly," Toffee said helpfully, returning the smile.
Marc was beginning to wonder just how many of them were crazy, and in what combination. Even Toffee was making less sense than usual.
"And if I do say so, myself," Toffee continued. "Marc and I will make lovely corpses."
"Oh, indeed you will!" Miss Quirtt agreed enthusiastically. "Some of the nicest I've ever seen. And you'll be the very first ones that I've made all by myself. I'll be very proud of you."
"That's nice to know," Toffee said, "but you're not going to use that gun are you?"
"Why not?"
"It won't work," Toffee said simply. "You'd better think of something else."
Miss Quirtt looked at her suspiciously. "What do you mean, it won't work?"