Burris simply said: "You're quite right. Get dressed, Boyd—I mean, of course, Sir Thomas."
While they were dressing, Malone put in a call to Dr. O'Connor's office. The scientist was as frosty as ever.
"Yes, Mr. Malone?" The sound of that voice, Malone reflected, was enough to give anybody double revolving pneumonia with knobs on.
"Dr. O'Connor," he said, "Her Majesty wants you in her court in ten minutes—and in full court dress."
O'Connor merely sighed, like Boreas. "What is this," he asked, "more tomfoolery?"
"I really couldn't say," Malone told him coyly. "But I'd advise you to be there. It might interest you."
"Interest me?" O'Connor stormed. "I've got work to do here—important work. You simply do not realize, Mr. Malone—"
"Whatever I realize," Malone cut in, feeling brave, "I'm passing on orders from Her Majesty."
"That insane woman," O'Connor stated flatly, "is not going to order me about. Good Lord, do you know what you're saying?"
Malone nodded. "I certainly do," he said cheerfully. "If you'd rather, I can have the orders backed up by the United States Government. But that won't be necessary, will it?"