"Care for another highball, Major?"
"No more, thanks."
Dugan lit a cigarette. His face looked tired, though he maintained, even in the easy chair, the somewhat stiff posture of a regular Army officer. Landsiedel and he both looked out of the window. The Dai Ichi Building was in the distance. Tokyo looked peaceful but shabby. The air-conditioner purred. Landsiedel stole a glance at Dugan.
The man sat there as though he had dropped into the office with a staff report. When Dugan played the role of American Army officer, he did it exceedingly well. This was a person who was very different from the seedy Japanese confidence man to whom Landsiedel had said goodbye several months ago, before — before Atomsk. Prompted by an unprofessional inquisitiveness, he felt a question poised on the tip of his tongue. Then, though he knew it was unmannerly, he asked it:
"Major?"
"Sir?" Dugan's tired, calm, relaxed black eyes moved slowly in their sockets and Dugan looked the colonel tranquilly in the eye.
"Do you mind a personal question?"
"I don't suppose so, Colonel. What is it?"
"Are you married?"
"No, sir. You could have seen that on my 201 file."