“What do you see?” Eddie asked.

“Just a room,” said Jack. “Quite tastefully furnished. Are you coming in, then?”

Eddie followed Jack.

Jack spied candles set in wall sconces, others upon a table. Jack lit these candles with his. Soft light filled the room.

Eddie gazed around and about it. “Just as I feared,” he said.

“Feared?” Jack asked. “What did you fear?”

“The hinges on the front door have been oiled and there’s no dust,” said Eddie. “Look at the tables and the chairs and the floor – no dust. Someone’s living here.”

“Upstairs, do you think? Asleep?”

“Possibly. Jack, give me a hand, if you will.”

“What’s this, then?”

Eddie was tugging at a rug. “Help me with this.”

Jack did tuggings, too. They tugged the rug aside.

“Ring in the floorboards,” said Eddie. “Secret compartment. Lift the trap door, Jack.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Exciting. What’s down there?”

“You’ll see.”

Jack pulled upon the ring and the trap door lifted. He held up his candle. “Golly,” he said.

“Golly? Where?”

“Term of surprise,” said Jack, “not golly as in golliwog.” And then Jack did awed whistlings. “This is what you’d call an arms cache,” said he, once done with these whistlings.

“Well, Bill was a private eye.”

“And part-time arms dealer?” Jack beheld the stash that lay beneath, steely parts glinting in the candlelight. There were many guns there, big, impressive guns, toy guns all, although toy guns got the business done in these parts.

“Just haul up some weaponry.”

“Okey-dokey,” said Jack, “will do.” And he lowered himself into the secret hideaway beneath and handed weapons up to Eddie. And as he did so, Jack did thinkings. What exactly was all this about? went one of these thinkings. What exactly happened here in Toy Town that drove its population away at the hurry-up, without their possessions? Why would Bill Winkie really have needed so much high-powered weaponry? And there would have been more thinkings along these lines had not Eddie hurried Jack up and broken the chain of these thinkings.

“It’s too much to carry anyway,” said Jack.

“And those grenades,” said Eddie.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jack.

“You’ll thank me for it later.”

“What was that?”

“What?” said Eddie.

“I thought you bears had special senses,” whispered Jack. “I heard something.”

“Come on, then, hurry up – gather up guns and let’s be off.”

The sound of voices now came to the ears of both Eddie and Jack.

“On second thoughts,” whispered Eddie, now tossing weaponry back down to Jack, “it might be more propitious for us to hide.”

“But we’re all tooled-up.”

“These guns are very old.”

“Sling the rest of them down here and follow on, then.”

Eddie did so. Jack climbed from the secret hideaway, extinguished candles, did complicated in-the-dark back-tuggings of the rug and lowerings of the trap door over him and Eddie.

Voices, slightly muffled now but growing louder nonetheless, were to be heard above.

“And I say that I locked the door behind us,” said one voice.

“And I say that you forgot,” said another. “And as I’m in charge, that’s final.”

“Oh yes, so who put you in charge?”

“You know perfectly well. This operation has to be carried out with military precision. I’m in charge, you are merely my comedy sidekick.”

“I’m not a comedy sidekick, I’m a professional.”

“Light the candles, then.”

There came now the sound of a slight scuffle, followed by a heavy thump. Right on top of the trap door.

Eddie flinched, as did Jack, though neither saw the other do it.

“Good comedy falling,” said one of the voices. “See, you excel at that kind of thing. Stick to what you know. I’ll be in charge, you do the comedy falling about.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Someone scuffed up this rug. Someone’s been here.”

“Well, they’re not here now.”

“They might be upstairs, asleep.”

“There’s no one here. Just you and me and our little cargo, of course. You didn’t damage the cargo with your comedy falling, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t. I’ll put it here on the table – do you want to see it?”

“Best see it, I suppose. Not that I really want to.”

“No, nor me – they give me the creeps, they way they move about in their little jars. They’re really horrid.”

Eddie looked at Jack in the darkness beneath.

Jack looked at a spider. He thought he was looking at Eddie.

“One little peep, then,” said one of the voices above.

“One is quite enough. I’ll be glad when this job is done. If it ever is done. I can see this job going on for ever. Or at least until everyone in Toy City is jarred-up. They are valuable commodities back home. The boss will have us jar-up the entire city, you see if I’m wrong.”

“It’s not right, you know.”

“Right doesn’t enter into it. It’s business, pure and simple. Gather them up, take them back, that’s what we’re paid for.”

“But they’re living beings.”

“They’re toys.”

“Yes, but living toys.”

“Well, of course they are. There wouldn’t be much point in going to all this trouble if they weren’t living, would there?”

“But it’s murder when it comes right down to it.”

“Murder of toys?”

“Oh, look at that one in the jar at the end. It’s really agitated.”

“The bandleader. He’s frisky all right, just like those monkeys. Shut the case up, I don’t like looking at them.”

Eddie and Jack heard muffled clickings.

Then they heard a voice say, “Get your stuff from upstairs and we’ll be off. We have to deliver tonight’s cargo by dawn.”

And then they heard departing footsteps.

Then returning footsteps.

Then departing footsteps again and the slamming of the front door.

“Do you think they’re gone?” Jack whispered.

“Hold on a bit longer,” said Eddie. “Just to be sure.”

Time passed.

“They’ve gone,” whispered Eddie.

Jack pushed up the trap door, rug and all, emerged from the hideaway, blundered around in the darkness and eventually brought light once more to the late Bill Winkie’s parlour.

“Well, what do you make of all that?” Jack asked.

“Nothing good,” said Eddie.

“Shouldn’t we be following them?” Jack asked.

“No,” said Eddie, “we shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not ready to deal with this yet, Jack. We don’t know what’s going on – we have to know more.”

“Then we should follow them now.”

“They said they were delivering tonight’s cargo. They’ll be coming back tomorrow, I would guess. Let’s make certain we’re ready and waiting for them then.”

“Sound enough,” said Jack. “But what were they talking about? What did they have in their jars?”

“Souls, perhaps,” said Eddie. “The souls of the clockwork band.”

“Their souls, Eddie? What are you saying?”

“You heard what I heard, Jack. Draw your own conclusions.”

“I heard what you heard, Eddie, but did you hear what I heard? What we heard?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Eddie.

“Oh, I think you do. The voices, Eddie. You heard the voices.”

“Of course I heard them. Now stop talking, let me think.”

“No,” said Jack. “You heard them as I did. You heard those voices.”

“I heard them,” said Eddie. “Now stop.”

“Not until you’ve said it.”

“Said what?”

“You know exactly what. Now say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, Eddie. Say it.”

“All right!” Eddie glared at Jack. “I know what you want me to say that I heard. And all right, I did hear it, same as you heard it. Their voices. All right, I heard them.”

“Say it,” said Jack.

“They were our voices,” said Eddie. “Yours and mine. Our voices. All right, I’ve said it – are you happy?”