Tom peered through the one-way door glass. A gaunt, big-nosed man was about to ring the bell. His hair was long and unkempt, and his ill-fitting blue suit needed pressing.
Tom opened the door and smiled. “Yes?”
“Mornin’, young fella. Are you Tom Swift
Jr.?”
“That’s right.”
The visitor stuck out his hand. “I’m Joe Mulver. Came a long ways to see you.”
Tom was surprised but shook hands and invited him into the living room. “I-er-got your note, Mr. Mulver. Just what did you have in mind?”
“Son, this could be the biggest break that ever happened to you.” Mulver plopped into an easy chair, then leaned forward eagerly. “You see, I’m in touch with outer space!”
SPACE DUST 15
Tom was taken aback. “Oh-is that so?”
“Right! I keep pickin’ up messages in my head. I figure they must be comin’
from that Green Orb. And I decided that you were the guy to see. After all, you’re the top space whiz in America-right?”
“Well, I’ve made some space flights, but-”
“No buts about it!” Mulver rapped his fist on the arm of the chair. “You hire me for experimental work, buddy, and I guarantee we’ll make some red-hot scientific discoveries!”
Trying to be as diplomatic as possible, Tom said, “Mr. Mulver, I appreciate your coming to me, but the kind of messages you’re talking about are out of my line. Perhaps if you went to some- er-psychology lab-”
Mulver jumped up, red with anger. “Are you tryin’ to claim I’m loony or somethin’?”
“No! I didn’t say that. I was just-”
“It’s what you meant, though-isn’t it?” Mulver bellowed. “All right, Swift, you’ll be sorry for this! You’re missin’ the chance of a lifetime to get the real dope on outer space!”