Garlock's smile widened. "Lola. She brought me a pot of coffee and wouldn't let me out until I drank it."
"Brought?"
"Yeah. They haven't read their room-tapes yet, so they don't know that room-service is practically unlimited."
"Why didn't I think of that coffee business a couple of years ago?"
"Well, why didn't I think of it myself, ten years ago?"
Belle's eyes had been going from one, man to the other. "Just what are you two talking about? If it's anybody's business except your own?"
"He is an early-morning grouch," James explained, as they sat down at the table. "Not fit to associate with man or beast—not even his own dog, if he had one—when he first gets up. How come you were smart enough to get the answer so quick, Brownie?"
"Oh, the pattern isn't too rare." She shrugged daintily, sweeping the compliment aside. "Especially among men on big jobs who work under tremendous pressure."
"Then how about Jim?" Belle asked.
"Clee's the Big Brain, not me," James said.