Ruskin frowned and swore quietly. Even his holidays were shattered by people who couldn't forget he was Commissioner of Internal Security. And these people were always little unimportant ones, like this archeologist Bigelow, whose little fears suddenly became giant threats to national security.
"Send him out here, Tom."
Tom turned back into the house. Ruskin could hear his gruff voice inside, and a few moments later Bigelow, stooped and bespectacled, emerged from the house.
Ruskin smiled weakly.
"Hello, Bigelow."
"Good morning, Commissioner."
Bigelow stood, clutching his briefcase, shaking with excitement. Then suddenly his eyes fell on Daisy and something like fear passed over his face.
"Sit down, Bigelow."
Bigelow balanced himself delicately on the edge of a porch chair, his briefcase resting on his long bony knees. But his eyes remained fixed on the dog.
"Is this social or business, Bigelow?"