Grannie nodded. "I think you and I and Xartal had better take a run up there," she said. "But first I want to see your laboratory."
There was no refusing her. Jimmy Baker led the way down to a lower level where a huge laboratory and experimental shop ran the length of the building. Grannie seized a light weight carry-case and began dropping articles into it. A pontocated glass lens, three or four Wellington radite bulbs, each with a spectroscopic filament, a small dynamo that would operate on a kite windlass, and a quantity of wire and other items.
The kite car was brought out again, and the old woman, Baker and the Martian took their places in it. Then Jimmy waved, and the car began to roll down the ramp.
Not until they had vanished in the desert haze did I sense the loneliness of this outpost. With that loneliness came a sudden sense of foreboding. Had I been a fool to let Grannie go? I thought of her, an old woman who should be in a rocking chair, knitting socks. If anything happened to Annabella C. Flowers, I would never forgive myself and neither would her millions of readers.
Ezra Karn and I went back into the office. The old prospector chuckled.
"Dang human dynamo. Got more energy than a runaway comet."
A connecting door on the far side of the office opened onto a long corridor which ended at a staircase.
"Let's look around," I said.
We passed down the corridor and climbed the staircase to the second floor. Here were the general offices of Larynx Incorporated, and through glass doors I could see clerks busy with counting machines and report tapes. In another chamber the extremely light Acoustix ore was being packed into big cases and marked for shipment. At the far end a door to a small room stood open. Inside a young man was tilted back in a swivel chair before a complicated instrument panel.