Abruptly, the room is silent and cool again. The stink is tolerable, putrid 
but tolerable. The griffin screeches and vanishes. Feinberg slumps to the floor. 
Kirkland manages to grab enough of the guy to slow the descent. Before he can 
check for a pulse, Feinberg is awake, lifting his head, slowly sitting up. The 
fedora never left his head, the book never left his hand.