Then the gilt epaulets on the guard's padded shoulders jerked as he came suddenly to a respectful attention.
"Next Diamvator leaves promptly at 2:30 P.M., sir. Arrives at the Antipodes at 6:30 P.M. Central Standard Time, sir."
The obsequious reply brought a veil of mild surprise to the little man's pale gray eyes.
Then it was replaced with a twinkle of understanding as he saw the Terminal Agent approaching.
J. B. Andrews, the big bluff Supervisory Agent of Earth-Tube, Incorporated, cast a cursory glance at the little gray man, then turned to the guard.
"The 'Vator will leave at 2:35 P.M. today, Jamieson. Five minutes later than schedule. You will act accordingly."
As the Agent turned to leave, the little gray man cleared his throat and said timidly, "I—I'd like to ask about your round trip rate to—to the other side."
The Terminal Agent looked appraisingly at the little man for a moment, then said courteously, "Glad to answer any questions. If you will step over to my office I'll give you one of our brochures which describes in detail the advantages of the Diamvator over surface travel."
When the door had dosed behind them in the Agent's office, the little man's appearance changed subtly. His drooping shoulders were suddenly squarer, and his pale eyes seemed to darken to the color of the granite blocks of the floor.
"Randall is my name, Mr. Andrews. Willard Randall," he said, and his thin, colorless voice seemed to have gained the depth and assurance of a man who is confident of his ability to meet any situation.