. . .

“That is in fact what I meant to ask,” concedes Tom.

“It is not just an ordinary letter,” says Jane. “It is a confession!”

“What could Bertram possibly have left to confess?” Edmund asks.

“Apparently,” says Jane, “Maria, our lovable space princess assassin nanny, is under orders to murder us all if Bertram has not forwarded a complete payment to certain interests by —”

She checks her watch.

“. . . Thirty-seven seconds ago.”

Linus reaches over to Mouser, who had treed himself several hours ago and accordingly become an impromptu part of the meeting of the Doom Team. He picks up the cat. He puts the cat on his lap. He strokes it.

“Oh, Mouser,” whispers Linus. “Place not your trust in humanity. It will betray you every time.”

“It explains further,” didacts Jane, “that originally he bankrupted us because he didn’t want them to kill —”

She looks apologetic.

“Well, three of us,” she says, and Linus’ lips tighten. “But then he decided that he’d really rather spend the money on fun times and fast women — I think he must mean cars — but he had pangs of guilt anyway. So he had to write this letter explaining how it was all our fault.”

“Really,” says Edmund Gulley.

“Truly,” answers Jane.

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