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Victor blanked the screen, leaned back in his chair and began laughing. In a moment, the screen buzzed again. When he snapped it on, his screen-girl said: "Mr. Henry Stenson's on, Mr. Grego." "Well, put him on." He caught himself just before adding that it would be a welcome change to talk to somebody with sense.
So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White-Jacket, how do you propose keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilted grego of yours? You don't call this wad of old patches a Mackintosh, do you? you don't pretend to say that worsted is water-proof? No, my dear friend; and that was the deuce of it. Waterproof it was not, no more than a sponge.
At the time, there seemed no reason to give the thing any beat-to-quarters-and-man-guns treatment, but we got a report on Saturday afternoon Mallorysport time, that is that Leonard Kellogg had played off the copy of the tape that Juan Jimenez had made for file, and had alerted Victor Grego immediately. "Of course, Grego saw the implications at once.
"Association of otherwise dissimilar things because of some apparent similarity is a recognized element of nonsapient animal behavior." He frowned again. "That could be an explanation. I'll have to think of it." About this time tomorrow, it would be his own idea, with grudging recognition of a suggestion by Victor Grego. In time, that would be forgotten; it would be the Mallin Theory.
And, at least, my garment was a jacket in name, if not in utility. At length I essayed a "swap." "Here, Bob," said I, assuming all possible suavity, and accosting a mess-mate with a sort of diplomatic assumption of superiority, "suppose I was ready to part with this 'grego' of mine, and take yours in exchange what would you give me to boot?"
Coombes, if I hear another word of objection to this officer's testimony from you, I am going to ask Mr. Brannhard to subpoena Victor Grego and question him under veridication about it." "Mr. Brannhard will be more than happy to oblige, Commander," Gus said loudly and distinctly. Coombes sat down hastily.
If worst came to utter worst and the Company charter were invalidated, he could still hang on here, doing what he could to salvage something out of the wreckage if not for the Company, then for Victor Grego. But if Zarathustra were reclassified, Nick would be finished.
"Hang me, if that brute Vigors ain't thrashing young Gossett," thought Jack. "I dare say the poor fellow has had plenty of it since I have been away; I'll save him this time, at least." Jack, wrapped up in his grego, went to the window of the berth, looked in, and found it was as he expected. He cried out in an angry voice, Mr Vigors, I'll thank you to leave Gossett alone.
I called my client my client of record, that is and told him. I'm afraid it was rather a shock to him." "It wasn't any shock to me," Grego said as they sat down. "When Ham O'Brien's as positive about anything as he was about that, I always expect the worst." "Pendarvis is going to try the case himself," Emmert said. "I always thought he was a reasonable man, but what's he trying to do now?
It's his job to put a stop to illegality. Frederic Pendarvis' religion is the law, and he is its priest. You never get anywhere by arguing religion with a priest." They were both silent for a while after he had finished. Grego was looking at the globe, and he realized, now, that while he was proud of it, his pride was the pride in a paste jewel that stands for a real one in a bank vault.
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