"Now look, Virginia," objected one of the men in the room, "there's no point in getting angry. We must know."
"I know you must, Peter," she returned. "I agree. But I don't know. Do you understand that? I don't know!"
Peter Moray shrugged. "Anybody capable of building a space resonator must have enough training to have known about it in the first place."
John Cauldron spoke sharply, "You went out to the corner as suggested?"
"I did. He did not appear. After I returned I watched at regular intervals. No one came. Also I listened carefully as you suggested. He hasn't been calling—hasn't called since about eleven o'clock this morning."
Peter Moray smiled. "Yesterday morning," he corrected.
"Don't be funny. You're the ones that have kept me up all night asking fool questions over and over."
"They're not fool questions, Virginia."
"Any question repeated too often becomes a fool question," she replied.
Cauldron spoke heavily. "We're not cross-examining you, Virginia. Please believe that. We ask and ask and ask because it may be that something might have been said that sounds trivial, but may make large sense."