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“I can see why Bob is upset,” Marco said, following the yips. Although, to be fair, it didn’t take a lot to make Bob upset. Bob was the maintenance man in the building, and just catching a glimpse of Marco and Polo in the vent opening one time had made him rip the grate cover off with his bare hands. Marco still had nightmares about that sometimes.

By the time they made it to the second-floor vents, the barking had reached hands-over-ears levels. Polo pointed to a grate at the end of the vent.“That one.”

Marco nodded and took a step toward it. Then he hesitated.“So we use our spy skills to pass Biscuit our message, and then we get out. No hair commentary, okay?” He still couldn’t believe they’d wasted so much time earlier talking about hairdos.

“Okay.” Polo nodded. It’s not like she hadn’t seen bad hair before. After all, she’d seen Butterbean in the morning. “We’ll be fast. No bangs talk.”

She and Marco fist-bumped and then peeked into the room.

The lights in Biscuit’s apartment were mostly off, but they could tell that the living room was a lot like Mrs. Food’s, with cozy-looking furniture and doilies on the tables. It was totally empty, except for one small figure silhouetted in the window. A Yorkshire terrier–shaped figure. Biscuit.

He was standing on a cushioned bench in the shadows, and he was obviously very angry. He was barking so furiously that every bark lifted him off his feet. His face was so close to the window that he’d smeared the glass with an elaborate design using only the moisture from his nose. (Polo was pretty sure that part was unintentional.)

“There he is. YOOHOO! BISCUIT!” Polo leaned forward to get a closer look.

It was only then that Biscuit stepped out of the shadows.

Polo blinked. Twice.

“Whoa!” Polo staggered back in shock. “Wow. I mean. Um. I think that’s Biscuit.” She composed herself just in time. They had a plan, and the plan didn’t involve hair commentary.

Polo took a deep breath and waved her arm.“Um, MR. BISCUIT!” she called. “UP HERE!”

She had almost caught Biscuit’s eye when she heard a gasp next to her.

“HOLY COW.” Marco grabbed Polo’s free arm. “POLO! Polo, holy cow. Look at those BANGS!”

“Focus on the assignment! Remember? No hair commentary?” Polo hissed.

Spies didn’t get distracted by bad bangs (even if they really wanted to).

“But those are PEOPLE BANGS!” Marco pressed his face against the grate to get a better look. “That dog has PEOPLE BANGS.”

Polo nodded grimly. Biscuit’s hair had been lopped off just above the eyes, giving him thick, heavy bangs that made him look like he had a human bowl-cut hairdo.

Marco couldn’t help but stare. Maybe Butterbean was right about the barking. Those bangs would make him angry too.

“Don’t look at the bangs,” Polo said. “Just look at something else.”

“Right, right,” Marco said, taking a deep breath and looking away from the bangs. “We’re professionals, I know. We’re spies. We can’t get distracted. It’s just… wait, what’s with his FEET?”

The bangs were bad enough. Polo didn’t want to look at the feet. But there was no way she could resist. She looked at the feet.

Polo gave a shrill squeak and stopped waving.

Biscuit’s hair was still long and luxurious, just like it had been when she’d seen him before. But it had been cut straight across about three inches from the floor, so Biscuit’s shaved naked feet stuck out awkwardly. It looked like he was wearing a silky horse blanket. Or a caftan. Or some kind of grass skirt. It was like the whole haircut was designed to draw attention to his tiny naked feet.

“Butterbean told us it was bad,” Polo said.

“I know.” Naked dog feet weren’t something Marco thought should bother him, but for some reason they really did.

Polo snapped out of it first. She put her hands on Marco’s shoulders. “We need to pull ourselves together! Forget the feet. Forget the bangs. We’re SECRET SPIES. We need to pass on our message.”

Marco nodded.“You’re right.” He stepped forward and hissed through the grate. “BISCUIT!”

Biscuit’s ears swiveled around as he scanned the room. “SHOW YOURSELVES, INTRUDERS!” he barked angrily. “YOU’RE NO MATCH FOR ME! I’LL STOP YOU! YOU’LL NEVER TAKE THIS APARTMENT!”

Polo glanced anxiously at Marco. That wasn’t exactly the reception she’d expected. She stuck her arm out of the vent again and waved in what she hoped was a cheery spy-message kind of way.

“Um, Biscuit, hi,” Polo yelled. “Calm down! We’re friends! We’re here with a message.”

“I’LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS!” Biscuit barked. “I’LL TAKE YOU APART!”

“Right. So, um, we’ve got a message from Butterbean,” Marco called.

“She’s coming to help!” Polo added. “We’re here to help!” It was hard to keep waving enthusiastically while Biscuit was threatening them like that. “But you need to stop barking!”

“I’LL RIP YOUR EARS OFF!” Biscuit barked so hard that he fell off the bench, then growled and turned on it like the bench had personally attacked him. “I’LL USE YOUR TAILS FOR DENTAL FLOSS!”

“Goodness,” Polo said, thrown. She hadn’t expected Biscuit to be quite so descriptive.