There was a mechanical squawk from the instrument and then it cleared and Miss Froon began. She seemed happiest now. When she finished, Dr. Munro blew a long stream of smoke toward Firelie Gluck and tapped his cigarette case. Miss Gluck lit up, settling back with a smug air of being on the inside for the first time. It was not the least reason why she had been willing to cooperate.
"Oh?" Dr. Munro's voice was tainted with sincere remorse. "I am sorry to hear of it. Mr. Condemeign, of course. Was the end painful?"
Firelie turned her ears toward the blind receiver with some interest.
"I don't think so, Doctor," Miss Froon said. "Mr. Condemeign perished of ordinary asphyxiation. He had apparently smashed the faceplate of his helmet."
"Yes, yes, we can't have them dying like that." Dr. Munro looked at Firelie Gluck and he winked.
There was a pause and then the mechanical voice went on:
"Isn't—isn't that rather expected, Dr. Munro, in any case? On Nepenthe, I mean?"
The Doctor closed his eyes and then opened them wearily.
"We won't go into it, Miss Froon, but I would advise you to make a note of the entire reports on this case and study them, say in three years time when you graduate to the psychological department. But I will give you a hint now on which you may ruminate. Mr. Condemeign was not only unworthy of our services but he almost caused the total annihilation of Nepenthe."
He heard a restrained clucking and he knew that the chicken skin had gone white. Within a reasonable time, something else would be green.