"Hello." The voice matched the calm alertness of a pair of deep-blue eyes. Brian just stared at her in numbed fascination. That was what the policeman had meant with his insinuating smirk.
"Just ask for Myrtle." Pete Brent's joking words flashed back to him. Now he got it. This was probably the young fool's idea of a joke. He'd soon fix that.
"All right, joke's over, you can beat it now."
"Joke? I don't see anything funny, unless it's you and that suggestive towel. You should either abandon it or get one that goes all the way round."
Brian slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs.
"Shut up and throw me my dressing gown." He gritted.
The girl swung her legs out of bed and Brian blinked; she was fully dressed. The snug, zippered overall suit she wore did nothing to conceal the fact that she was a female. He wrapped his bathrobe austerely around him.
"Well, now what?" she asked and looked at him questioningly.
"Well, what do you think?" he burst out angrily. "I'm going to finish my bath and I'd suggest you go down to the laboratory and hold hands with Pete. He'd appreciate it." He got the impression that the girl was struggling heroically to refrain from laughing and that didn't help his dignity any. He strode into the bathroom, slammed the door and climbed back into the bath.
The door opened a little.