“When the agitator has stopped, Griggs, the mass will cool at once, so you needn't worry.”
“If it didn't cool, would it—would it blow up?” I quavered.
“Oh, it would,” admitted Hawkins, rather nervously. “But as soon as the mixing ceases, the slight color disappears, as you see.”
“I don't see it; it seems to me to be getting greener than ever.”
“Well, it's not!” the inventor snapped. “Five minutes from now, that stuff will be an even brown once more.”
“And while it's regaining the even brown, why not clear out of here?” I said eagerly.
“Yes, we may as well, I suppose,” said Hawkins, with a readiness which refused to be masked under his assumption of reluctance. “Come on, Griggs.”
Hawkins turned the lever on his fancy lock, remarking again:
“Come on.”
“Well, open the door.”