Woodard nodded contritely. The mating calls heard once, it turned out, were heard for all time. But the sneeze, braced for it though he was, retained its power to shake the inner being.
"—defy anybody to recognize this sound," challenged Nodus.
It sent a cold tickling vibration through Woodard, from the soles of his feet to his frontal sinus. When it was over (four and one-half seconds), he needed almost a minute to bring his shuddering to a halt. He saw Russ take a pad and pencil from his pocket. He did not react.
"A laugh," Nodus gloated. "A human laugh. More precisely, a chuckle. When Marcella Sembrich produced it originally, in her recording of 'Coming Thro' the Rye', the intent was probably coy, but...."
In his sharp, sudden rage, Woodard forgot tact and caution. "That's so unfair to a singer! To take her voice in one passage and distort it—that doesn't show what she can do!"
"Could do," Nodus corrected coldly. "But it shows what the equipment can do."
"I would never," Woodard began acidly.... A persistent tickle in his throat was making him cough. His post-nasal drip, he recognized grimly.
Nodus glanced at Russ, who was jotting notes. "A few more little effects," he promised, "then the concert."
Woodard nodded, coughing viscously into his handkerchief.
"Now just to give you some further idea...." Nodus looked reproving. "You have a very annoying cough."