Channing groaned in mock anguish. "Here goes another closet full of female haberdashery. I'm going to close that corridor some day, or put a ceiling on the quantity of sales, or make it illegal to sell a woman anything unless she can prove that 'she has nothing to wear!'"
"That, I'd like to see," said Walt.
"You would," snorted Arden. "Come on, Chris. Better than the best of three worlds is available."
"That sort of leaves me all alone," said Don. "I'm going to look up Wes Farrell and see if he's been able to make anything worth looking at for a driver detector."
Don found Wes in the laboratory, pouring over a complicated circuit. Farrell was muttering under his breath, and probing deep into the maze of haywire on the bench.
"Wes, when you get to talking to yourself, it's time to take a jaunt to Joe's."
"Not right now," objected Wes. "I haven't got that hollow leg that your gang seem to have developed. Besides, I'm on the trail of something."
"Yes?" Channing forgot about Joe's, and was all interest.
"I got a wiggle out of the meter there a few minutes ago. I'm trying to get another one."