Myra didn’t blink an eye-lash. She just stood there, her eyes blank and her body rigid. Clancy stared at her. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s her all right. You can cut that dummy act out. You’re under arrest,” he went on to Myra.
I took my hand from Myra’s shoulder and stepped back. As Clancy moved forward to grab her she floated out of his reach. Still keeping her stiff pose, she rose about ten feet in the air.
It certainly upset Clancy. He closed his eyes.
“Gawd!” he said. “What a horrible sight!”
“What’s worrying you?” I asked. “Haven’t you heard of the new lighter-than-air models? It helps solve the transportation problems,” and I patted him on the back.
“Never mind about the transportation problems,” he said, looking at Myra from between his fingers. “I’ve got my own problems to worry about just now.”
Then Whisky wandered into the shop.
In the general confusion no one noticed his entrance. The saleswomen were screaming, while the shop manager had collapsed on the floor and was jerking feebly at his collar. The cops just stood rooted, staring at Myra in horror.
To make matters worse, the red-head had thrown her arms round my neck and was screaming wildly in my ear.
It was a pretty good time for Whisky’s entrance. He came straight over to me. “You haven’t been long getting yourself fixed up,” he said approvingly. “That’s quite a pretty trill you’ve got there.”