It hesitated. “Scotch, sir?”
“Before dinner? Get me a Manhattan.”
“We’re all out of Vermouth, sir.”
“All out? Would you mind telling me how?”
“It’s all used up, sir.”
“Now that’s just ridiculous,” Morey snapped. “We have never run out of liquor in our whole lives and you know it. Good heavens, we just got our allotment in the other day and I certainly—”
He checked himself. There was a sudden flicker of horror in his eyes as he stared at Henry.
“You certainly what, sir?” the robot prompted.
Morey swallowed. “Henry, did I—did I do something I shouldn’t have?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know, sir. It isn’t up to me to say what you should and shouldn’t do.”