The drivers stepped on their accelerators. Engines roared and wheels spun, but the cars themselves refused to budge.
They might have been on a conveyor belt travelling at exactly the same speed
but in the opposite direction, and the more they accelerated the faster it went.
By the time the men in gray grasped the truth, Momo was almost out of sight.
Cursing, they jumped out and tried to overtake her on foot.
They sprinted hard, grimacing with rage and exertion, but much the same thing happened.
When they were finally compelled to give up, they had covered a mere ten yards.
Meanwhile, Momo had disappeared among the snow-white houses and was nowhere to be seen.
″That's that,″ said one of the men in gray. ″It's no use, we'll never catch her now.″
″Why were we rooted to the spot?″ demanded another.
″I just don't understand it.″ ″Neither do I,″ said the first.
″The only question is, will they take that into our favour when we come back empty-handed?″
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