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him, John Armstrong may also have a surprise for us."
"I suppose you're right." Mel faced the dog again. "When I signal to you with
this, Rover, you jump into the house through the window. Listen, Rover." He
popped the red sphere into his mouth and blew.
He heard nothing, but Rover looked up at him and made complaining sounds.
"To a dog the noise is shrill and unpleasant," said Hakin. "He will not fail
to hear. Now, is there anything else?"
There was nothing else anybody could think of, and Mel and Bolam started off
down the street, toward Armstrong's house. It was Mel who looked around for a
doorbell to press, but found nothing.
He was making up his mind to knock, when a voice came from in front of him,
"What do you want?"
There was probably an electronic warning device, he thought. That was why
there was no bell. And most likely a visor cell was scanning them and
transmitting their image to a screen inside.
"I'm Mel Oliver. Mr. Armstrong asked me to drop in and see him."
"Who is the other man?"
"A friend of mine. A a business adviser."
"Mr. Armstrong cannot see you now. He is in the middle of an important
experiment."
"This is important too. I spoke to him about it on a long distance visor
call."
"Just a moment."
There was a pause of a few seconds. Then the voice said, "You will have to
wait a while. But come in."
The door opened, and Mel entered. He was followed by Bolam, who was trying to
seem small and harmless, and not succeeding very well.
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Mel stared at the squat figure that faced them. It was a robot butler. "I
should have expected this," he thought. "Mr. Armstrong is an expert on robots.
He liked to have them around, and make as much use of them as possible."
They followed the robot into a sparsely furnished, undecorated room. The robot
said, in an obviously mechanical voice, "Please sit down and wait," and then
left.
"This isn't very homelike," said Bolam.
"Mr. Armstrong wouldn't agree with you. If a place looks like a laboratory,
it's home to him."
The door through which the robot had gone now opened, and a man of about forty
came in. He was of medium height, and quietly dressed. His hair was just
beginning to thin out on top of his head, and he had a preoccupied look.
"I'm Coleman Gardner," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Armstrong's secretary. Could
you state your business to me?"
Mel remembered the man who had been just out of range of the screen when he
had talked to John
Armstrong. He said, "I think you know what this is about, Mr. Gardner. I told
Mr. Armstrong that somebody had been trying to kill me. I wanted to know if he
could help me find out who it was."
"I remember your conversation with him, Mr. Oliver. But I'm afraid that Mr.
Armstrong is unable to help you."
"Suppose we talk to him about that," put in Bolam mildly.
"Mr. Armstrong is a very busy man," began the secretary. "And he doesn't like
to leave his experiments."
"He should be able to spare a few minutes to help save the life of his
partner's son," said Bolam, staring grimly at Gardner.
Somewhat uneasily, the secretary avoided his glance. "Well, if you put it that
way, I shall see what I
can do. Just stay here, please."
He left, and Mel turned to face the strong man. "Mr. Armstrong is certainly
giving us a good looking over before talking to us."
"Almost as if he had something to hide."
"I wonder if Hakin "
Bolam frowned and shook his head, and Mel stopped. He was being a fool again.
They were undoubtedly being watched through spy lenses every moment, and
microphones were probably picking up their conversation. Bolam said, "Don't
worry about Hakin. He can handle the circus perfectly well without our help."
"I hope Rover's all right," said Mel, playing along. "I didn't like the idea
of leaving him alone. He still hasn't got over that wound of his." He thought
of the signaling arrangement that they had made, and put one of the round
pieces of candy in his mouth.
Two minutes later the robot came for them again. "Follow me, please," it said.
It led them into another bare room. Here, sitting at a desk in the only chair
the room contained, Mel recognized John Armstrong. The face looked old and
worn, the figure was bent. Armstrong had his eyes fixed on a page full of
mathematical symbols, and he did not look up as they approached.
"Mr. Armstrong," began Mel.
"Yes?" The blue eyes stared blankly at them. "Who ?"
"I'm Melvin Oliver. You remember me, don't you, Mr. Armstrong? You asked me to
come and talk to you. And this man is Bolam Turino, a friend of mine."
"Indeed. What is it you wanted, Melvin?"
"I told you the last time I spoke to you. Some one has been trying to kill me.
And I'm anxious to find out if you can suggest who it is."
"Some one has been trying to kill you? You are mistaken, Melvin. The idea is
absurd. Completely absurd."
"That's what you said last time, Mr. Armstrong. But there's no mistake about
it."
"Do not be too certain of that, my boy. Mistakes creep into the most
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unexpected places. In this pageful of calculations, for instance " His voice
trailed away.
Mel looked at Bolam in exasperation. The latter smiled grimly, and said, "Let
me handle this, Mel. I'll see to it that we don't get side-tracked."
"All yours, Bolam." Mel popped another candy into his mouth, and thought of
his instructions. "Will you have one, Mr. Armstrong?"
Armstrong said impatiently, "I am not a child to be concerned with candy. Have
you finished your business with me, Melvin? I must return to my experiment."
"We're just starting, Mr. Armstrong," said Bolam. "Mel's father was your
partner, wasn't he?"
"Of course. A more amiable man I never met. But is there need to discuss this
now? My experiment is waiting."
"Maybe you aren't aware of it, Mr. Armstrong, but when his father died, Mel
had no relatives to go to."
"My experiment "
"Let it wait," said Bolam sharply. "As I started to say, Mel had to stay for a
time in an orphanage, and then had to ram his own living."
"Excellent, excellent. His experiences, I imagine, have taught him to be
self-reliant."
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