“Please...” He pointed to a chair.
She sat. Brennan remained standing by the table, on which he had laid his peeled apple on a saucer. He regarded her with polite expectancy.
As Miss Teatime removed a pair of light fawn gloves, she made a quick survey of the room; not inquisitively, but in the manner of a well-bred guest sizing up an agreeable situation. She saw that it was not a self-contained room, with a bed, like most of those at the Roebuck, but one from which two doors led to other apartments, presumably bathroom and bedroom. The carpet, a blue Wilton, was comparatively new, and the furniture included an antique lacquered cabinet, a pair of good chairs and a small bureau in reproduction Chippendale style. A big console television set supervised the room from one corner. By Flaxborough standards, it was all rather grand.
“And what can I do for you, Miss Teatime?”
She turned upon him her full attention, graced with a friendly smile.
“My errand will probably surprise you, but the fact is that I have come to make application for a grant.”
He frowned. “I don’t think I quite...”
“No, of course not. You cannot be expected to understand until I tell you who I am, can you? I am, so to speak, Moldham Meres Laboratories. That is to say, I am the company’s managing director—not,” she added hastily, “that I would like you to think of me as a tycoon or anything of that kind; we are a small and highly specialized concern, and it just happens that major responsibility has fallen upon me because of my long experience—through social work, you know—of the needs of elderly people. I do not need to remind you, of course, that the geriatric field is the area to which Moldham Meres Laboratories make particular contribution.”
“I can scarcely be reminded,” said Brennan, “of something I wasn’t aware of in the first place. I’m afraid I have never heard of these laboratories of yours.”
Miss Teatime looked shocked, but only for an instant. She good-humouredly wagged an admonitory finger.
“Now, Mr Brennan, we must not allow commercial rivalry to dictate our attitudes, must we? Human welfare is our common concern. Let us not pretend blindness to each other’s existence as workers towards that end.”
“I have not heard of your firm,” Brennan repeated. “And I am at a loss to understand what you said earlier about your purpose in coming to see me. A grant? What grant? How can you imagine that I have anything to do with grants?”
“You are the representative,” Miss Teatime resumed patiently, “of the West German drug house of Elixon, are you not?”
“Certainly.”
“And Elixon entertain high hopes that the product they allow to be made under licence here and marketed as ‘Juniform’ will prove a very valuable aid to geriatrician’s.”
“I would rather not discuss my firm’s products otherwise than with professional people, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, but I am not discussing them. I stated a fact which I assume to be available to anyone who cares to read the medical press.”
“Is that where you heard about ‘Juniform’?”
“No.”
“Where, then?”
“You forget, Mr Brennan. We are fellow toilers in the vine-yard of human advancement. The only difference is that whereas your remedies are drawn from the retort and the centrifuge, mine rise directly from the earth.”
“Very picturesque.”
“Yes, but allow me to continue what I was saying. This ‘Juniform’, if it lived up to its promise, could be a tremendously significant drug. As I understand your firm’s admirably restrained claims, ‘Juniform’ actually holds back the effects of old age.”
“That is nowhere stated by us.”
“Not in those words, perhaps. ‘Inhibits the onset of cellular modifications associated with the ageing process.’ That seems to me to be very much the same thing. No matter—what your firm is offering is nothing more or less than a modern version of the great prize sought by the ancients, the Elixir of Life. I’m sorry—am I being picturesque again?”
“You are employing a silly and sensational catchphrase.”
“Solely to illustrate my point that ‘Juniform’ has sensational commercial possibilities. Always provided”—she put her fingertips together and regarded them critically—“that it produces no nasty side-effects.”
Brennan, who had remained standing in exactly the same position since Miss Teatime’s arrival in the room, took out and slickly opened his penknife. He picked up the apple, which was already brown-mottled by exposure, and with a deft, twisting incision, levered a piece out and carried it between thumb and knife blade to his mouth.
Miss Teatime was interested to see that he could eat with scarcely any overt jaw movement. She wondered if, instead of using his teeth, he had acquired the ability to crush food between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
“Oh, but I must not frighten you with talk of side-effects. I know they are bound to be a constant nightmare for you pharmaceutical people, and I do sympathize with you. Well, I know what I should feel if we began to receive complaints at Moldham Meres that people had been taken ill after using our products.”
Brennan cut away another piece of apple. There was a slightly more savage turn of the twist this time. He remained silent.
“To tell you the truth,” Miss Teatime continued in a lowered voice, “and quite in confidence between ourselves, there have been one or two cases lately that give me concern. A somewhat curious illness has afflicted several of our customers. Moreover”—her voice fell still further—“there has been publicity. You may well imagine how damaging that can be.
“The odd thing is that every one of these unfortunate customers of ours happens, or happened (one of them has died, I fear), to be also a taker of ‘Juniform’. This doubtless is pure coincidence, but it may serve to help you appreciate my firm’s predicament. I mean, it does bring you closer to the problem, does it not?”
She frowned. “Now, what was the other strange coincidence I meant to mention? Ah, yes—this illness. Do you know, it is exactly similar—or so I am reliably informed—to one that has been reported in a couple of Continental countries. And yet Moldham Meres Laboratories do not sell any of their products in Europe. I find that comforting, I must say, but it is rather mysterious.”
The apple was now sculpted down to its core. Brennan regarded the remnant pensively for a moment, then placed it on the saucer.
“And why are you telling me all this?” He spoke with tight, cold precision.
“Because I dared to hope that you might be interested in the problem as a colleague.”
“That is nonsense. What have I to do with this...this nature cure chicanery?”
“Let us not use harsh words, Mr Brennan. I am simply giving you an opportunity to use your influence with a very worthy organization towards an equally worthy end.”