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is Death,” said Sergeant Rowan. “Even then, they’ll probably try to steal his scythe.”
    Dan began to hustle the dwarfs along.
    “Well, we must be off,” he said. “We’re running late as it is. Good to see you again. Maybe we’ll all meet up at the Grand Opening!”
    “I can hardly wait,” said Sergeant Rowan.
    He turned his chair to face Constable Peel.
    “We need to watch them, Constable. We need to watch them like hawks. No, not just like hawks, but like hawks . . . with binoculars . We—”
    He paused.
    “Where’s the rest of my pie gone?” he said.
    “Sergeant—” began Constable Peel as an engine started up.
    “And my tea. And the teapot!”
    The engine was followed by a burst of sirens, but they were quickly silenced.
    “Sarge—”
    “They’ve even taken the cups!”
    “Sarge!” said Constable Peel with some force.
    “What is it?”
    “I think they’ve stolen our car.”

IX
    In Which Clever Disguises Are Adopted
    N URD TRUDGED BACK TO Mrs. Johnson’s house, his head low. Wormwood had chosen to stay late at the car-testing center. There had been some spectacular crashes that day, and Wormwood liked nothing better than rebuilding crashed cars.
    Nurd was wearing a bulky jacket, and a hood covered his head. His hands were plunged deep into his pockets. It looked like rain, but he had decided not to take the bus because taking the bus meant being near people. Even though Nurd’s appearance had changed a great deal in his time on Earth, he was still strange enough to attract startled glances from passersby and fellow passengers. Small children sometimes cried at the sight of him, and he had lost count of the number of elderly ladies whom he had caused to faint with fright. It was easier just to walk home, even if it did take him an hour.
    Home. Nurd grimaced at the word. Mrs. Johnson’s housewasn’t home. Oh, it was comfortable, and Samuel and his mother did all that they could to make Nurd and Wormwood feel like part of the family, but as time went on, Nurd just became more and more aware of how different he was. Earth was better than Hell, but Nurd still didn’t belong there, and he didn’t think that he ever would.
    A bird sang from a nearby tree. Nurd stopped to listen. The bird took one look at him, let out a startled squawk, and suddenly decided to fly south for the winter, even though it wasn’t a migratory bird.
    Nurd adjusted his hood until only a tiny circle of his face was visible, and walked on.
    • • •
    Once they had retrieved their car—following a long lecture from Sergeant Rowan to Jolly about the difference between “borrowing” and “stealing,” which Sergeant Rowan suspected went in one ear and out the other, but not before being relieved of any valuables—the two policemen decided to drive over to Mr. Pennyfarthinge’s to see what the scientists were up to in their Secret Laboratory That Everybody Knew About. It was part of the Biddlecombe constabulary’s weekly routine: pop in, say hello, pretend that the scientists were simply sweet manufacturers working night and day to perfect new types of sherbet, and make sure that they hadn’t opened any portals between worlds.
    “We should have arrested them for stealing our car,” said Constable Peel as they neared Mr. Pennyfarthinge’s.
    “Some things aren’t worth the time or the trouble,” said Sergeant Rowan. “At least we got it back before they sold it.”
    “You’re very tolerant of them.”
    “Spending time in Hell with people will do that to you.”
    “Spending time with them is Hell anyway,” said Constable Peel. “Spending time with them in Hell was just Hell squared.”
    “You know, I think they like you,” said Sergeant Rowan.
    Constable Peel couldn’t help but feel pleased despite himself.
    “What makes you say that, Sarge?”
    “Have they burgled you yet?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “There you have it. Stands to reason, doesn’t it, that they must like you if they