Roger was boiling.
Clark, scanning his working face, calmly chuckled.
“Your films will be overdone, or whatever happens if you forget them.”
Roger, reminded, hastily extracted from trays the plates of an experiment with chemical diffusion, and got them into hypo.
“I shan’t bother Grover. We discussed it and he suggested coming to you. As long as this way doesn’t elicit the information, perhaps there will be other methods. You know what taking the gem means to those Tibetans?”
Roger, fuming, smarting under the unjust accusation, refused to reply.
Turning on his heel, Mr. Clark left.
Roger washed his negatives, made his prints.
To his surprise his pet, the tiny mouse, began to run about, to show unmistakable signs of animation—or was it of excitement?
Roger studied him.