“The others—the vocational clues——”
“Do you mean ‘vocal’?”
“Uh-hum. Them I know most of. But there’s ol—olle—something about a factory——”
“Olfactory? Clues coming from smells? I think you’ve got something. The powder smell, for one.”
“And now, how will we coagulate ’em?”
He was fond of that word, erroneously used, before—but to him a discovery.
“I don’t know,” Roger admitted, “there must be some link.”
He suggested that inasmuch as the man in the office shot had worn gloves, as revealed on his outspread hands, no finger prints had been left when he had inadvertently pressed the desk button.
“But there might be clues on the floor, if they haven’t been tracked up too much,” Roger suggested. “You do some micro-photography while I revise my list.”
The list he located in their office file, behind the registrations he had previously looked up to find the clue, as it had seemed, that Zendt, with Australian experiences, must know about kangaroos, while Ellison—there he cropped up again! could know, from India work, about the ape they had seen in the film of the upper room.