"That will do!" Grossman's voice crackled like the snap of a bulldozer's whip. He rose hastily, bowed apology to his visitors. "If you will excuse me a moment—"
He strode to the door, propelled his underling out of sight and hearing. The three guests stared after him in astonishment.
"Well!" exclaimed Lynn Graham. "Whatever came over him so quickly? Why, he turned positively pale!"
"You're telling me?" grunted Bud. "He looked like he seen his grandmother's ghost ... or his own. What did that guy say? 'Thing-that-Grows'? What would that be? And what would it break?"
"Shhh!" warned Rocky. "He's coming back.... Ah, there Factor! Everything all right?"
Grossman had been gone but a few seconds, but in that time a change had come over him. His eyes were dark with ... Rocky could not tell just what. Excitement? Or fear? A thin film of perspiration overspread his cheeks, his forehead, his upper lip. He tried to put reassurance into his voice, but the effort didn't quite jell.
"Quite all right, Doctor. A little trouble with ... with a small horticultural experiment we are conducting. But I'm afraid I must ask you to leave now. I have work to do."
Rocky said, "If I ... er ... can be of any help—?"
"No. Thank you very much, but this is work of an ... er ... experimental nature. Company business, you know." The Factor bustled them to the door. "We will meet again. Good afternoon."