ane sat up on his couch, his feet striking the floor with an angry thump. But when he recognized Mich'l he paled slightly.
"Where is she?" Mich'l demanded roughly, "before I burn you down!"
"You said once," Lane began sneeringly, "that you wanted to fight me. Now, if you'll just put down that—"
"Not now," Mich'l dissented with deadly coldness. "Where is Nida? Speak fast."
Lane did so.
"She isn't here. The little short[2] crowned me with a chair, and slipped out. How did I—"
[2] Short—trouble-maker, spitfire. A colloquialism probably growing out of the once frequently used electrical term "short-circuit."
"When? Hurry up!"
"Hardly an hour ago. She walked down the corridor, showed a thick-witted guard my own executive pass, and got away. But I got that guard—"