She moved away, giving the two S.I.D. men their first moment of privacy in hours. Bud Mulligan sighed and fumbled for a cigarette.
"So we're really gonna get to see Grossman at last? Good! How'd he sound when you audioed him for an interview?"
"Friendly enough," answered Rocky. "He said he was very busy, but he'd be glad to give me a few minutes."
"Did he know what you wanted?"
Rocky grinned a slow, lopsided grin. "Everybody on Titan knows by now," he drawled, "that there's a myth-chasing crackpot roaming loose. I'm Public Joke No. One. Which suits me just fine."
"Yeah," snorted Bud disgustedly, "but when this job's done, I'm gonna backtrack and do a little plain and fancy nose-punchin'! Like that old spacerat we talked to a few minutes ago—did you ever hear such lyin' in your life? A bird with purple wings an'—"
"Cheer up!" chuckled Rocky. "Gunner thought he was giving me the runaround, and for a generally unimaginative old codger he didn't do such a bad job of yarn spinning. He'd be surprised to learn, though, that his wild story is not half so fantastic as some of the honest tales I've heard since I began this masquerade."
Bud nodded grudgingly.
"That's true enough. An', boy, I really got to hand it to you. You talk that Doctor-o'-Mythology patter like you really was one. Sometimes you sound like you really believed in it yourself!"
"And the funny part of it is," said Rocky, "I almost do! As for talking the patter ... well, no wonder! I studied comparative mythologies for three solid months under the best experts in the field before I undertook this job, Bud. I know more about hamadryads and demigods and winged horses than old man Bulfinch himself! Well—" He nodded significantly, and his voice lifted to the high-pitched tones of "Dr. Rockingham Roswell"—"here comes Lynn. Off we go!"