"I don't know whether they'd be able to get you through that mob," McGill replied. "Just listen to them. I only wish I could think of some way to satisfy the damn crystal or whatever it is. I have the feeling it wants something. It can't be merely fooling around for no reason. But there doesn't seem to be any motive beyond the fact that it's apparently on your side. How did it start? That's what I wish I knew."
He absently turned the bench lamp on again. I shrugged unhappily and scratched my cheek. In so doing, I pulled the piece of pink adhesive tape loose and it began to bleed again.
"Cut yourself shaving, darling?" Molly asked me.
"No," I said. "As a matter of fact, it was a kind of freak accident."
"Oh?" McGill lifted his head interestedly. "Anything involving you and a fluke I want to hear about. Tell Papa."
I did and McGill began to get his dedicated look. "You say this piece of glass just blew up? What did it look like? How big was it?"
"I only saw it for a second. It was dirty and I'd say about two feet across—more or less round and with flat places all over it."
McGill came toward me in a state of great excitement. "That piece that hit your cheek—did it merely nick you or is it embedded? If it is embedded...." He picked up a bottle of alcohol and a piece of cotton and took a lens out of a drawer. "Molly, there's a pair of tweezers in my desk. Will you fetch them?" He tilted the light up onto my face and dabbed the cut with the alcohol.
"Ouch!"