But only beginning—
At the moment, he told himself, it was this Mark Annuncio, if that was the name, who was annoying him. He slapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other and thought angrily about it. His large, round face was ruddy with annoyance.
Insolence!
A boy of not more than twenty, with no position that he knew of among the passengers, to make a request like that.
What was behind it? That at least ought to be straightened out.
In his present mood, he would like to straighten it out by means of a jacket collar twisted in a fist and a rattle of teeth, but better not—
After all, this was a curious kind of light for the Confederacy of Worlds to sponsor, and a twenty-year-old, over-curious rubberneck might be an integral part of the strangeness. What was he on board for? There was this Dr. Sheffield, for instance, who seemed to have no job but to play nursemaid for the boy. Now why was that? Who was this Annuncio?
He had been spacesick for the entire trick, or was that just a device to keep to his cabin—
There was a light burning as the door-signal sounded.
It would be the boy.