"Do you see him, too?" the supervisor asked the janitor incredulously, still whispering.
"Sure," the janitor replied. "He's the one I was telling you about, from room 112."
The supervisor stood up unsteadily. "I don't feel very well," he said in a weak voice. "I think that I'd better talk this over with the Administrative Officer. It's a policy matter."
"You come along, too," he said hastily to the janitor, who had turned to leave. "I'll need all the support I can get." He waddled out, followed by the janitor.
"What should I tell my wife?" George shouted, but they didn't answer, so he went down and told his wife that they were discussing it with the Administrative Officer. And, as anyone could have guessed, a short time later he pushed his head out of the mousehole in the Administrative Office.
e was a bit late, just in time to see the door close on the supervisor and the janitor.
So he shouted, "Hello!" as loud as he could.
The Administrative Officer looked down and saw him right away. He was a thin pale man with tired eyes.