“All about what?” asked Harold.
“The beasts,” the doctor said.
“The which?”
“Beasts, Potter,” snapped the goat-like man. “The nightmare monsters. Get with it, lad. And what is a dream sequence without them? Ha!”
“Uh—yes,” said Harold a little uncertainly.
Mildume’s finger shot out. “You fellows understand that I’m no dreamy-eyed impractical scientist. Let’s face it—it takes money to carry on experiments like mine. Good old-fashioned money. I’ll need at least ten thousand dollars.”
Harold raised his eyebrows. “Just what, Dr. Mildume, do you propose to give us for ten thousand dollars?”
“Beasts,” said Mildume. “Real monsters.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Harold. He began to work out strategies in his mind. Maybe he could casually walk over to the phone and pick it up quickly and call the studio police. Maybe he could get the jump on this madman before he pulled a knife. The thing to do was to humor him meanwhile....
Dr. Mildume said, “I will not deal with underlings. I demand to see Mr. Untz himself.”