Lieutenant Andrews rose, his mouth a tight, white line.
"Afraid we'll have to call it a day," he muttered. "It's time for me to go off duty. Sorry."
"But—but your relief isn't here. You can't—"
"Sorry." The man's gaze avoided Jeffrey's face.
He moved swiftly, his tall body easing around the desk, then striding down the hall.
Jeffrey was like a statue, an absurd, bulging-eyed statue with right hand still raised in a climactic, melodramatic gesture.
"But I haven't finished!" he cried. "You haven't heard—"
The lieutenant marched away, oblivious to Jeffrey's pleading voice. Abruptly, his bright uniform disappeared into one of the labyrinth's many rooms.
Jeffrey was a fragile leaf mauled by winds of desperation. He dug furiously into his coat's inner pocket.
"You haven't seen my proof!" he screamed.