"I didn't know," Grayson answered, his mustache twitching. "You didn't tell me that. I just assumed—"
"You assumed!" The Producer stood up, looking thunderclouds at Dr. Stark. "You knew what kind of show it was, Stark. Why didn't you tell him? We needed an Anger reaction—not Fear! That's what loused up the whole show!"
Manford groaned. "What does that matter now? Forty-four cc's of hypnomecholyl! What kind of a doctor are you, Grayson? Don't you know you could kill a man that way?"
"I—I didn't know. I never worked with these mecholyl drugs. I studied antibiotics—"
"Better if it had killed him," the Producer said darkly. "We might have covered that up. But we can never get him past the FCC examining officer now—"
"I swear he told me forty-four! I swear it!"
Dr. Stark made a rush at the phonescreen. Grayson backed away in terror, despite the many miles that were between him and Stark's intended violence. With a snarl, the older doctor reached up and turned off the instrument.
"Now we're in for it," he told the others.
"Maybe he'll be all right," Manford said. "Maybe he'll snap out of it. A little more anti-dope—"
"Nonsense," Stark snapped. "If it hasn't worked by now, it'll never work. The overdose has permanently affected his nervous system. He's an amnesiac for good—an amnesiac with a permanent case of the jitters—"