The woman didn't answer, but Loveral was already moving across the room
toward a door. He opened it and walked down a hall. The noise grew
stronger. He threw open another door.
* * * * *
He stood watching while George Atkinson spun around, dark eyes flashing,
hair tousled. There was a two days' growth of beard darkening Atkinson's
face.
"Why, George," Loveral said, swiftly examining the litter of metal and
wood which was spread over a table behind Atkinson. There was a
home-made hammer in Atkinson's hand. "What have we here, George?"
"Something for you," Atkinson said, tightening his fingers about the
handle of the hammer.
Loveral grinned his famous Loveral grin. "That's fine. What could it
be?"
"None of your damned business."
"_George_," Loveral said, his smile still white but his eyes narrow and
quick.
The woman was behind them. Her voice screeched. "George, I told you. Why
didn't you listen, George? You should have listened to me. You--"
Loveral held up a hand, still watching Atkinson. "Now tell me, George,
what is it you're making for me?"
Atkinson raised the hammer slightly.