"What happened?" she asked breathlessly.
"Later," I told her. I opened Phillip Harrison's cell. "You go wake up Fred Macklin and tell him to come here. Then get the Macklin girl—Alice, it says here—and the pair of you wake up others and start sending 'em up stairs. I'll call you on the telltale as soon as I can."
Marian took off with the key and the register and I started to shake Phillip Harrison's shoulder. "Wake up!" I cried. "Wake up, Phillip!"
Phillip made a noise like a baby seal.
"Wake up!"
"Wha—?"
"It's Steve Cornell. Wake up!"
With a rough shake of his head, Phillip groaned and unwound himself out of a tangle of bedclothing. He looked at me through half-closed glassy eyes. Then he straightened and made a perilous course to the washstand where he sopped a towel in cold water and applied it to his face, neck, and shoulders. When he dropped the towel in the sink, his expression was fresher and his eyes were mingled curiosity and amazement.
"What gives?" he asked, starting to dress in a hurry.
"I busted out, slugged Scholar Phelps, and took over the master control room. I need help. We can't keep it long unless we move fast."