Throwing wide all the windows on the ground floor, he wished that they had current for the fans to blow out more quickly the gases.
Potts, waiting, wanted to quarrel about Roger’s suspicions; but Roger sent him to the drug store to return the mask and call the lighting company, tell the rough conditions and get an emergency squad in to re-fuse and seal their input boxes.
Grover came along about the same time that the truck finished and departed.
Quickly, on the sidewalk, Roger recounted the situation.
With current on, in spite of the company’s annoyance at this tampering with sealed boxes, Roger, smelling less gas than would be dangerous in a momentary invasion, set fans going and rushed out.
On the pavement they discussed conditions. Roger could not help feeling that Potts was to blame, had been, in spite of all loyalties, in face of past good conduct—Potts had been his adversary.
“He was the one who put the record on my home recorder, with the fire-call on it already.”
“How’d I know?” flared Potts, “I—it was with the unused ones.”
“Oh, yeah?” Roger threw back at him his former grunt.
“Tip could have substituted an exposed film for the unused ones, so that we developed the animals. He could have taken the film to the zoo and got the kangaroo, maybe with an ape. We can check,” he insisted. “He could have transferred the first culture meant for the rats to the place behind Doctor Ryder’s racks.”