Craven came in, slouchily, his hair standing on end, his eyes peering through the thick-lensed glasses.
"You sent for me,” he growled, taking a chair.
"Yes, I did,” said Chambers. “Have a drink?"
"No. And no smoke either."
Chambers took a long cigar from the box on his desk, clipped off the end and rolled it in his mouth.
"I'M a busy man,” Craven reminded him.
Puckering lines of amusement wrinkled Chambers’ eyes as he lit up, watching Craven.
"You do seem to be busy, Doctor.” he said. “I only wish you had something concrete to report."
The scientist bristled. “I may have in a few days, if you leave me alone and let me work."
"I presume that you are still working on your radiation collector. Any progress?"