"Hm-m-m," said Don. "Looks like a refrigerator and incinerator combined."
It did. It stood five feet tall, three feet square, and was sealed in front by a heavy door. There was a place intended for the tube that Farrell was tinkering with in the blister, and the lines to supply the power were coiled behind the cabinet.
"Partly wired?" asked Don.
"Just the power circuits," answered Walton. "We'll have this finished in a couple of days more. The other one is completed except for Wes Farrell's section."
Channing nodded, and said: "Keep it going." He turned to Walt and after the passage of a knowing glance, the pair left. "Walt, this waiting is getting on my nerves. I want to go down to Joe's and drink myself into a stupor which will last until they get something cogent to work on."
"I'm with you, but what will Arden say?"
"I'm going to get Arden. Self-protection. She'd cut my feet off at the knees if I went off on a tear without her."
"I have gathered that," grinned Walt. "You're afraid of her."
"Yeah," drawled Don. "After all—she's the cook."
"I'm waiting."