"No! Wait, Father! That's the wrong drug. This other—"
Dr. Kent had opened the vial. His trembling hand spilled some of the pellets, but none of them noticed it.
"Father, dear, this one." Alan held an opalescent vial. "This one."
Glora said abruptly, "Listen! Is that someone coming?"
They thought they heard approaching footsteps. A moment passed, but no one came into the room.
"Hurry," urged Glora. "It is nothing. We wait too long."
"My boy—Alan, dear, after all these years—"
They were about to take the diminishing drug. From across the room there came a very queer sound. A scuttling, scratching, and the drone of wings.
"Father, good God—look!"
Over by the wall, a giant fly was running across the floor. It was growing larger!