"Where's the door?" asked the woman.
Everyone stared around the room except Summersby, who went to the fountain, scooped up a palmful of water, and drank it. It was rather warm, with no chemical taste.
"There isn't any door," said a Negro boy. "Hey, there isn't a door at all!"
"There must be a door," said the heavy man with the accent.
Several of them ran to the walls. "Here's something," said the blond man, pushing with his fingertips. "Looks like a sliding panel, but it won't budge. We never came in through anything that small, anyway." He looked over at Summersby. "You didn't, at least. I guess they could have slid me through it."
"They?" said the woman in a piercing voice. "Who are they?"
"Yes," said the heavy man, looking at the blond man accusingly, "who put us here?"
"Don't ask me," said the blond man. He looked at a watch, held it to his ear, and Summersby saw him actually go pale, as at a terrible shock. "My God," he gasped, "what day is this?"
"Tuesday," said the Negro.
"That's right. We got on the coaster about eleven Tuesday morning. It's three o'clock Thursday!" His voice was flat and astonished as he held up the watch. "Two days," he said, winding it. "This thing's almost run down."