“Orders are not to go there at night,” Roger told him.
“Well—but he said lock ’em in the safety cabinet, against fire. I forgot. Well——”
“But there won’t be any fire.”
“But—lookit, Roger—you didn’t notice, maybe——”
“That you had marked on a paper a list of words? I did. Fireworks. Pyrotechnics. Lycopodium.”
“Well—I mixed some—an’ left ’em in a big tray till tomorrow.”
Roger gasped, at his end of the connection.
Suppose a gas in the atmosphere reacted with some exposed ingredient?
All at once, though, a person so far totally unsuspected began to assume importance.
This Toby Smith! He had originally sold, for a camera, a gem supposed to have been both sacred and invaluable.