VI
The unconscious Geneva Jervis, lying crumpled up in the oversized fur coat, was the immediate problem. Don Cort straightened her out so she lay on her back, took off her shoes and propped her ankles on the lower rung of a chair. He found she was wearing a belt and loosened it. It was obvious that she was also wearing a girdle but there wasn't anything he wanted to do about that. He was rubbing one of her wrists when her eyes fluttered open.
She smiled self-consciously. "I guess I was a sissy."
"Not at all. I saw it, too. A pair of eyes."
"And a face! A horrible, horrible face."
"I wasn't sure about the face. Can you describe it?"
She darted a tentative look at the screen but it was comfortingly blank. "It wasn't human. And it was staring right into me. It was awful!"
"Did it have a nose, ears, mouth?"
"I—I can't be sure. Let's get out of here. I'm all right now. Thanks for being so good to me—Don."