The tone was sharp, brutal, contemptuous. It stiffened Kendall, then eased him slowly back into his chair. "What do you want?"
"That's better."
"Take that absurd mask off."
"I'll leave it on."
"Then get this over with. Tell me what you want!"
"It will take a few minutes. Go over and lock your door."
"I'll do no such thing!"
"I said—go over and lock your door."
Their eyes clashed; Kendall's frank, indignant, accusing; the stranger's dark and menacing in the holes of the mask.
"Very well." Kendall crossed the room and stood for a moment with his back to the phonovision screen. This man meant business. But what could be the nature of that business? Kendall's thoughts went of course to the top secret material he had access to. The defense of the world lay within the boundaries of the Canadian Flats Ordnance Research Project. But safely so.