The frog leaped to the table top as Kit brushed the light cord. It sat there, its green, Cyclopean eye reflecting the light of the lamp. Its open mouth showed the ring of murderous teeth.
Kit gave a single shrill scream as she saw it there almost on a level with her eyes.
“Please!” begged John.
Please!She clung to the filmy cover that lay over her. Forcing her hand in the face of unabated terror she reached out and touched the frog. Somehow it seemed a reassuringly dead and artificial thing to her.
“It’s the only way we could make contact,” said John. “We want Al to see it. Will you tell us where he is?”
“I’m sorry I screamed,” Kit apologized. Then her voice broke in a repressed sob. She put her face in her hands and sat up in bed. “I’m worn out with worry and sickness over the loss o
