"Isn't there anything else we can do?" The tic in Neff's cheek was becoming more pronounced.
"If there is, I don't know—What the hell, Buster?" The cat which had been lying in his lap, suddenly leaped to the floor. Tail extended, crouched, eyes alert, the cat seemed to be trying to follow the flight of something through the air above him.
Very vaguely, very dimly, Thompson caught the rustle of wings.
The actions of the cat, and the sound, sent a wave of utter cold washing over his body.
Before he could move, the cat leaped upward, caught something in snapping jaws.
In the same split second Thompson moved. Before Buster had had time to swallow, Thompson had caught him behind the jaws, forcing them shut. On his desk was a bell jar. He lifted it, thrust the cat's head under it, forced his thumb and forefinger against the jaws of the cat.
The outraged Buster disgorged something. Thompson jerked the cat's head from under the jar, slammed down the rim. The angry cat snarled at him. Neff and Fortune were staring at him from eyes that indicated they thought he had lost his senses. Thompson paid them no attention. He was too busy watching something inside the bell jar even to notice that they existed.
He could not see the creature under the jar.
He knew it could fly but he did not know its shape or size. He could hear it hitting the falls of the jar. And each time it hit the wall, a tiny greenish smudge appeared at the point of impact.
"What—what the hell have you got there?" Neff whispered.