George nodded, and before he could stop her, Narka took two brooches and a necklace from the pile in Arl's arms, called to the policeman, and, when she had caught his attention, threw the jewelry down to him.
"Oh, no...." Myra moaned.
George shut the window. In a few minutes the policeman would be in the room. He'd see a room full of jewelry, and he'd receive reports of all the thefts in the past few minutes, the incredible number of thefts in so short a space of time, and though he would not know how it was done, he would blame George. He would definitely blame George.
A few minutes....
"You shouldn't have done that," George said.
Narka stuck her tongue out at him. It was very unladylike, even less queen-like. "No?"
"No." George reached out and pulled Narka to him. He saw the look of triumph on her face.
"George," she said coyly.
Holding her arm and retreating to a big chair, George sat down. Because he was still holding her, Narka sat on his lap, and from there it wasn't hard for him to turn her over. He did and then she got the idea, but it was too late. She struggled and she writhed but she couldn't do a thing about it.
"What you need," George told her, "is a good three-dimensional man to take care of you."