"Same to you, Chief," and the brown-haired one strode out.
Norma the secretary was a smart girl, and observant. In her position, she had to be. Her eyes followed the man out, then scanned the Lensman from toe to crown.
"I've never seen anything like it, Mr. Samms," she remarked then. "Except for the difference in coloring, and a sort of ... well, stoopiness ... he could be your identical twin. You two must have had a common ancestor—or several—not too far back, didn't you?"
"We certainly did. Quadruple second cousins, you might call it. We have known of each other for years, but this is the first time we have met."
"Quadruple second cousins? What does that mean? How come?"
"Well, say that once upon a time there were two men named Albert and Chester...."
"What? Not two Irishmen named Pat and Mike? You're slipping, boss." The girl smiled roguishly. During rush hours she was always the fast, cool, efficient secretary, but in moments of ease such persiflage as this was the usual thing in the First Lensman's private office. "Not at all up to your usual form."
"Merely because I am speaking now as a genealogist, not as a raconteur. But to continue, we will say that Chester and Albert had four children apiece, two boys and two girls, two pairs of identical twins, each. And when they grew up—half way up, that is...."
"Don't tell me that we are going to suppose that all those identical twins married each other?"
"Exactly. Why not?"