But they still didn't find the girl known as Momo.
″I say, Tortoise,″ said Momo, as the pair of them made their way across a darkened courtyard.
″Aren't you going to tell me where you're taking me?″
Some letters took shape on the tortoise's shell. DON'T BE SCARED, they read.
″I'm not,″ said Momo, when she'd deciphered them, though she said it more to boost her courage than anything else.
Truth to tell, she did feel rather apprehensive. The tortoise's route was becoming steadily more tortuous and erratic.
It had already taken them across parks, over bridges and through subways,
into buildings and along corridors - even, once or twice, through cellars.
Had Momo known that she was being hunted by a whole army of men in gray, she would probably have felt uneasier still,
but she didn't, so she followed the tortoise patiently, step by step, as it continued to meander along. It was lucky she did.
Just as the creature had previously threaded its way through traffic, so it now seemed to know exactly where and when their pursuers would appear.
There were times when the men in gray reached a spot only moments after they themselves had passed it,
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