apparently liked the company, for it didn't bother to come back for a while. In the ensuing stillness, hasty footsteps could be heard making their way out of the cemetery.

"Well, that's that, I guess," Marc groaned morosely, then he had regained his breath. "I scared him away, and he was my last chance. And to think that he was right next to us in the night club all the time!" He sat up and rested his chin defeatedly in his cupped hands. "With my wife gone, and my business gone, I might just as well go away and try to forget it all right now."

"Maybe you could go where those other men went," Toffee said in a baffling attempt to be helpful.

"What other men?"

"The ones that work for you. You said they'd gone cavorting, and that sounds pretty forgetful. Did they have something to forget?"

"No. They all got urgent telegrams."

"Who from?"

"How should I know?"

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and then, all of a sudden, Marc's chin lifted, and his hands fell to the ground. "I'll bet that was a frame up too," he said. "It was! I'm sure of it! Whoever has my brief case, sent those wires to get the boys out of town, so they couldn't get out another campaign. They're all out on a goose chase."

"Then all we have to do," Toffee said brightly, "is find out who sent them. Then we'll know who to see about the brief case."

"Yeah. But how?"

"Call up their homes again."

"It might be an idea," Marc said, his hope rising faintly. "Come on down from there. We'll have to find a drug store with a telephone."

With a shockingly familiar hand, Toffee grasped the cupid, and boosted herself away from her perch. "Let's go!" she cried gaily, landing lightly beside Marc. "I don't like this place much, anyhow. There isn't enough life in it."

In the drug store, Toffee had just finished her third soda, and the teen aged fountain attendant, chin on counter, to have a better view of her, had just completed his 

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