"The Harpers," Mr. Culpepper explained wryly, "are charming people." "Yes," Toffee said. "Charming, like an emerald-studded hand grenade." "Culpepper's come untied," Chadwick said outside. "I suppose you'd better ride with them and keep them covered whilst I drive." "What a bother," the woman lamented. "Oh, well, hand me up." Chadwick lifted Agatha to the compartment and she stepped lightly inside. Then he closed them in and took his place behind the wheel. The removable panel at the front of the truck slid down and he turned toward them. "What will we ever do with them, Aggie?" he asked. "The children?" Agatha said. "Oh, I don't know, dear. Dispose of them in the usual manner, I suppose." "Yes, I suppose so," Chadwick said. "Only it really doesn't seem quite proper, you know, their being children and all, I mean." "But they're not very pretty children," Agatha replied. "And after all, when you come right down to it, what are children except just ungrown people?" "You may be right," Chadwick mused. "Perhaps if we use small bullets...." "I really think we should be getting on, don't you?" Agatha broke in. "I observed several police persons at the end of the lot when we came out." "Right-ho," Chadwick said. "Police persons!" Toffee snorted. "Just listen! You'd think this was a garden party!" Agatha turned to her with a slow smile. "Quite right," she said. "Tea and bullets will be served directly. And remember, should we be stopped for any reason along the way, you and your little friend will act as our children. You'll call Chadwick daddy and me mummy." She pointed to Toffee. "You're Gwendolyn and the boy is Horace. Mr. Culpepper is your uncle Ben. Understand?" "Oh, yes," Toffee said brightly. "We're just one big stuffy family. Only if mummy drops her gun, Gwendolyn is going to kick the stuffing out of her, and don't you forget it, sister." Agatha shuddered delicately. "Please," she said. "Unless you watch your language a bit more closely I'm afraid I'll have to wash your mouth out with cyanide." Toffee
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