Now looking up at Catherwood, he asked: "What's the matter with his face?"
"I believe it is iodine," the assistant professor replied, frigidly.
Little Green grinned.
"You're a sure beaut," he exclaimed.
"I think that will be all," observed the assistant professor drily.
"Oh yes, yes—that's all—thank you very much; good-morning." And the journalist vanished.
The eyes of Catherwood and the assistant professor met.
"I think I should wash my face, if I were you," suggested Mr. Lowe. "You may be able to remove some of the stain."
Catherwood went to the stand in the corner of the room. For a space he sputtered the water in the bowl. "Any better?" he asked, at length.
Mr. Lowe shook his head sadly.