The buzzer sounded and a cheerful redhead brought in a tray with four cups, cream and sugar bowls and a large aluminum coffee urn. It remained untouched on the desk when she had gone.
"I see. They were stolen." The president's casual manner was gone and the tension returned unchecked. "Go on."
"I'm sorry, sir. But the letter and memo were the keys to the whole business. And I want to remind you at the beginning that I'm not a scientist or an aviation engineer, but an administrative officer—"
"Maybe we should say you were."
"Shut up, Halleck! Let him go on."
The president glanced at the recorder spinning silently and drew short, angry puffs on his cigar.
"And I want to remind you, too, gentlemen, that I'm here of my own volition. My fears are for the Foundation's reputation, not for myself alone. After all, there's no motive for murder and—"
"Murder!" The two executives looked frozen. Taplin, starting to reach for the coffee, changed his mind.
"—and, to put it bluntly, no dead body. But let me take it from the beginning."