"An experimenter. Avid for new sensations.
Probably a jaded scion of a rich New York family." She paused. "Tell
me," she said. "Is it fun?"

Malone opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shut it, thought for
a second and then tried again. He got as far as: "I--" before Nemesis
overtook him. The second sneeze was even louder and more powerful than
the first had been.

"It must be fun," the girl said acidly, producing a handkerchief from
somewhere and going to work on her face. "You just can't seem to wait
to do it again. Would it do any good to tell you that the fascination
with this form of greeting is not universal? Or don't you care?"

Malone said, goaded, "I've got a cold."

"And you feel you should share it with the world," the girl said. "I
quite understand. Tell me, is there anything I can do for you? Or has
your mission been accomplished?"

"My mission?" Malone said.

"Having sneezed twice at me," the girl said, "do you now feel
satisfied? Will you vanish softly and silently away? Or do you want to
sneeze at somebody else?"

"I want the President of the Society," Malone said. "According to my
information, his name is Sir Lewis Carter."

"And if you sneeze at him," the girl said, "yours is going to be mud.
He isn't much on novelty."

"I--"

"Besides which," she said, "he's extremely busy. And I don't think
he'll see you at all. Why don't you go and sneeze at somebody else?
There must be lots of people who would consider themselves honored to
be noticed, especially in such a startling way. Why don't you try and
find one somewhere? Somewhere very far away?"

Malone was beyond speech. He fumbled for his wallet, flipped it open
and showed the girl his identification.

"My, my," she said. "And hasn't the FBI anything better to do? I mean,
can't you go and sneeze at counterfeiters in their lairs, or wherever
they might be?"

"I want to see Sir Lewis Carter," Malone said doggedly.

The girl shrugged and picked up the phone on her desk. It was a
blank-vision device, of course; many office intercoms were. She
dialed, waited and then said: "Sir Lewis, please." Another second went
by. Then she spoke again. "Sir Lewis," she said, "this is Lou, at the
front desk. There's a man here named Malone, who wants to see you."

She waited a second. "I don't know what he wants," she told the phone.
"But he's from the FBI." A second's pause. "That's right, the FBI,"
she said. "All right, Sir Lewis. Right away." Sh