As Yuble stepped forward, his face caught the gleam of sunlight from the window and his ear-lobes showed large, with round, pierced holes showing in them. In his native habitat, Yuble evidently wore ear-rings, of a large and heavy variety. Those lobes had been stretched to double size and they were the only part of Yuble’s ears that showed. The rest was hidden by the mass of Yuble’s curly hair, which was so dark and glossy that Margo wondered why it wasn’t slick instead of curly.
When he spoke, Dom Yuble supplied an apologetic tone that was chiefly mannerism, though in this case there was cause for it, since he was ready to take part blame for Ronjan’s failure.
“There was sand,” agreed Yuble. “Much sand. More sand than would pile on reefs in the West Indies. But I should have thought to expect sand.”
“That’s why we need more money, Cranston,” asserted Ronjan. “We shall require new units for the articulated tube when we operate from windward.”
Carefully, Ronjan shifted the position of the floating boat and altered the miniature pipe line accordingly. It came short of the sunken model and because of the contour of the ocean bed, it was obvious that the new segments of pipe would have to be inserted at specific intervals along the line.
Cranston accepted this with an understanding nod; then queried calmly:
“What about Craig Farnsworth?”
“He has promised us more money,” returned Ronjan, frankly, “but so far he has not provided it. Perhaps if you talked to him, Cranston -”
With that Ronjan paused, his eyes so canny that Margo suspected that there was craft behind them. Ronjan was waiting for a response that came. Cranston nodded again.
With that, Ronjan started eagerly for the door, as though to speed Cranston to his coming conference with Farnsworth. Cranston followed and Margo did the same, with Ronjan talking all the while.