"Up bright and early, aren't you?" the Australian greeted him as he entered.
"Rather early, but none too brightly," Randall replied. "I'm getting too old to be frolicking around with a bunch of overgrown ants."
"You aren't alone," agreed McClellan ruefully. He stretched painfully, groaned, then quickly donned his clothes.
"What's on the agenda for today?" he asked.
"Among other things," replied Randall. "I'm going to find out what happened to McMahon and his bride. We already know what happened to Blake Garnet," he added, memory of that silent form on the operating table still vivid in his mind.
Someone rapped sharply on the door, and Jackson stuck his head in. "Lanson asked me to tell you that Zor Ala is sick," he said.
"What's the trouble?" Randall asked.
Jackson shrugged. "He called in Dr. Gerard. He is afraid it's serious."
"Oh-oh!" said Randall. "We would be in a mess with an epidemic on our hands, wouldn't we?"
Jackson's eyes were frightened. "You mean it's contagious?"