Pat thought of her wrenched shoulder and bruised arm. She shuddered.
"He's horrible!" she said. "Inhuman! He kept referring to Saturday night, and he threatened that if I moved or made a disturbance he'd let Nick suffer the consequences. So I kept still while he insulted me."
"You nit-wit!" There was more than a trace of anger in the Doctor's voice. "I want to see that pup of yours! We'll soon find out what this thing is—a mania or simply lack of a good licking!"
"What it is?" echoed Pat. "Oh—it told me! Dr. Carl, what's a synopsis?"
"A synopsis! You know perfectly well."
"I mean applied to physiology or psychology or something. It—he told me he was a question of synopsis."
"This devil of yours said that?"
"Yes."
"Hum!" The Doctor's voice was musing. He frowned perplexedly, then looked up abruptly. "Was it—did he by any chance say synapses? Not synopsis—synapses?"
"That's it!" exclaimed the girl. "He said he was a question of synapses. Does that explain him? Do you know what he is?"