"Dr. Wong!"
He jumped and turned around hastily.
"Leah! What in the world?"
She stood in the doorway, glaring at him, breathing heavily as though she were trying to hold back sobs. Slowly she tottered to the desk and sank down into her chair by the stenograph.
"You doublecrosser!" she whispered.
He looked quickly at the doorway, but the guard had not come back. Leaning forward, he questioned her fiercely.
"What are you doing here? They told me yesterday that several people had come down with attacks of Blue Martian. Why aren't you in the hospital with the others?"
"Because I wasn't sick!"
"But I gave you—"
"Imagine how I felt," she raced on, "watching Dr. Haslam start having a chill, hearing Dr. Fauré complain about his awful headache, and listening to Dr. Hudson dial Intercom and call for a doctor. And all that time I was waiting, waiting for something to happen to me. And nothing did! What have you got against me, Dr. Wong, that you infect all the others and only pretend to do it to me? I don't want to grow old any more than they do!"