one corner, and a desk at the far end. Behind the desk was a brass
plate, on which was engraved:

_The Psychical Research Society_
_Main Offices_

To Malone's left was a hall that angled off into invisibility, and to
the left of the desk was another one, going straight back past doors
and two radiators until it ran into a right-angled turn and also
disappeared.

Malone took in the details of his surroundings almost automatically,
filing them in his memory just in case he ever needed to use them.

One detail, however, required more than automatic attention. Sitting
behind the desk, her head just below the brass plaque, was a redhead.
She was, Malone thought, positively beautiful. Of course, he could not
see the lower two-thirds of her body, but if they were half as
interesting as the upper third and the face and head, he was willing
to spend days, weeks or even months on their investigation. Some jobs,
he told himself, feeling a strong sense of duty, were definitely worth
taking time over.

She was turned slightly away from Malone, and had obviously not heard
him come in. Malone wondered how best to announce himself, and
regretfully gave up the idea of tiptoeing up to the girl, placing his
hands over her eyes, kissing the back of her neck and crying:
"Surprise!" It was elegant, he felt, but it just wasn't right.

He compromised at last on the old established method of
throat-clearing to attract her attention. He was sure he could take it
from there, to an eminently satisfying conclusion.

He tiptoed on the deep-pile rug right up to her desk.

And the expected happened.

He sneezed.

The sneeze was loud and long, and it echoed through the room and
throughout the corridors. It sounded to Malone like the blast of a
small bomb, or possibly a grenade. Startled himself by the volume of
sound he had managed to generate, he jumped back.

The girl had jumped, too--but her leap had been straight upward, about
an inch and a half. She came down on her chair and reached up a hand.
The hand wiped the back of her neck with a slow, lingering motion of
complete loathing. Then, equally slowly, she turned.

"That," she said in a low, sweet voice, "was a dirty trick."

"It was an accident," Malone said.

She regarded Malone darkly. "Do you always do that to strangers? Is it
some new sort of perversion?"

"I have never done such a thing before," Malone said sternly.

"Oh," the girl said.