"But will the government let Arcivox have the machine for commercial use?"
"The government would let Arcivox have the hydrogen bomb if they found a commercial use for it."
There was a sturdy knock on the door, not a shrill ring of the bell.
"That must be Arcivox now," Carmen growled. "They have the best detectives in the business. You know what to tell them?"
I knew what to tell them.
I peeled off my wet shirt and threw it across the corner of my desk, casting a reproving eye at the pastel air-conditioner in the window. It wasn't really the machine's fault—The water department reported the reservoir too low to run water-cooled systems. It would be a day or two before I could get the gas type into my office.
Miss Brown, my secretary, was getting a good look at my pale, bony chest. Well, for the salary she got, she could stand to look. Of course, she herself was wearing a modest one-strap sun dress, not shorts and halters like some of the girls.
"My," she observed "it certainly is humid for March, isn't it, Professor Venetti?"
I agreed that it was.