‘Don’t try to act innocent, Joe Crane. You know what door. The supply-cabinet door. That’s the door.’
Crane had a sinking feeling as if his stomach was about to drop out and go plop upon the floor.
‘Oh, that door,’ he said.
‘What was that thing you hid in there?’ demanded Dorothy.
‘Thing?’ said Crane. ‘Why, I never…’
‘It looked like a cross between a rat and a tinker-toy contraption,’ she said. ‘Something that a low-grade joker like you would figure out and spend your spare evenings building.’
Crane tried to speak, but there was only a gurgle in his throat.
‘It bit George,’ said Dorothy. ‘He got it cornered and tried to catch it and it bit him.’
‘Where is it now?’ asked Crane.
‘It got away,’ said Dorothy. ‘It threw the place into a tizzy. We missed an edition by ten minutes because everyone was running about, chasing it at first, then trying to find it later. The boss is fit to be tied. When he gets hold of you …’