"I know why," she called, "but it still makes me dizzy. Come down from up there. Or I'll be sick."
Channing made a neat dive from his position above her head. He did it merely by jumping upward from his place toward her place, apparently hanging head down from the ceiling. He turned a neat flip-flop in the air and landed easily beside her. Immediately, for both of them, things became right-side-up again.
Channing opened the door to the room marked: "Air Plant." He stepped in, snapped on the lights, and gasped in amazement. The room was empty! Completely empty! Absolutely, and irrevocably vacant. Oh, there was some dirt on the floor and some trash in the corners, and a trail of scratches on the floor to show that the life-giving air plant had been removed, hunk by hunk, out through another door at the far end of the room.
"Whoa, Tillie!" screamed Don. "We've been stabbed! Arden, get on the -type and have ... no, wait a minute until we find out a few more things about this!"
They made record time back to the office level. They found Burbank in his office, leaning back, and talking to someone on the phone.
Channing tried to interrupt, but Burbank removed his nose from the telephone long enough to snarl, "Can't you see I'm busy? Have you no manners or respect?"
Channing, fuming inside, swore inwardly. He sat down with a show of being calm and folded his hands over his abdomen like the famed statue of Buddha. Arden looked at him, and for all of the trouble they were in, she couldn't help giggling. Channing, tall, lanky, and yet strong, looked as little as possible like the popular, pudgy figure of the Sitting Buddha.
A minute passed.
Burbank hung up the phone.