Dr. Heddis pressed his plump thumb into his cheek.
“I can’t say, definitely. But ... all that a man needs to know of dynamite to destroy a city is that it will explode. Rathbone is checking supply sources, I understand. I’m not hopeful....”
He shrugged his thick shoulders.
“A medical student with a flare for toxicology could have made it synthetically. Anybody with a medical background could....”
“Then I suggest,” Dr. Harrison’s voice was patiently fighting the rising tension, “that we separate and think it over privately until after lunch. Men under a strain as long as this has been upon Ethridge and Dr. MacArthur are not at their mental best ... you both need rest; you have borne up magnificently.... Let’s re-convene here at two, gentlemen?”
Dr. Heddis turned from the door:
“If you need me, MacArthur....”
Dr. Hoffbein blocked his exit. “One question before we go. Is there much hysteria on the ward?”
“Nothing visible,” Cub Sterling snapped. “There is tension of course.”
A terrible desire to get away from it all for just fifteen minutes ... to forget! ... to run away and rest ... made Cub Sterling walk through the ground floor of his clinic and start down the accident room steps toward Otto’s.