"But you know Bob!" expostulated Parrish. "If he gets the idea that he's penned in here—"
"I know, I know," said Smith. "On the other hand, we can always get something from the lab and break out from this side, provided we take care not to let him know what is going on until later."
Westervelt eyed Beryl sardonically. He had seldom seen an expression so blended of impatience and vague worry. He wondered if anyone would explain to her.
Parrish shook his head.
"I think it might be better to call downstairs again, and have them come up," he said.
"I don't want to do that," said Smith.
"Why not?"
"It would get around. Pretty soon, the story would be all over the D.I.R."
Parrish actually leaned forward slightly to study his chief's face. He found no words, but his very expression was plaintive. Smith sighed.
"We're in the business of springing spacers from jails all over the explored galaxy," he said. "We're supposed to be loaded to the jets with high-potency brainwaves and have a gadget for every purpose! How is it going to look if we're locked in our own office and can't get out without help?"