Baley said, rather gruffly, "Are you a barber, Mr. Gremionis?"
Gremionis flushed, his light skin, reddening to the hairline. He said in a choked voice, "Who told you that?"
Baley said, "If that is an impolite way of referring to your profession, I apologize. It is a common way of speaking on Earth and is no insult there."
Gremionis said, "I am a hair designer and a clothing designer. It is a recognized branch of art. I am, in fact, a personnel artist." His finger went to his mustache again.
Baley said gravely, "I notice your mustache. Is it common to grow them on Aurora?"
"No, it is not. I hope it will become so. You take your masculine face - A great many of them can be strengthened and improved by the artful design of facial hair. Everything is in the design - that's part of my profession. You can go too far, of course. On the world of Pallas, facial hair is common, but it is the practice there to indulge in parti-colored dying. Each individual hair is separately dyed to produce some sort of mixture. - Now, that's foolish. It doesn't last, the colors change with time, and it looks terrible. But even so, it's better than facial baldness in some ways. Nothing is less attractive than a facial desert. - That's my own phrase. I use it in my personal talks with potential clients and it's very effective. Females can get by with no facial hair because they make up for it in other ways. On the world of Smitheus - "
There was a hypnotic quality to his quiet, rapid words and his earnest expression, the way in which his eyes widened and remained fixed on Baley with an intense sincerity. Baley had to shake loose with ah almost physical force.
He said, "Are you a roboticist, Mr. Gremionis?"
Gremionis looked startled and a little confused at being interrupted in midflow. "A roboticist?"
"Yes. A roboticist."
"No, not at all. I use robots as everyone does, but I don't know what's inside them. - Don't care really."
"But you live here on the grounds of the Robotics Institute. How is that?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Gremionis' voice was measurably more hostile.
"If you're not a roboticist - "
Gremionis grimaced. "That's stupid! The Institute, when it was designed some years ago, was intended to be a self-contained community. We have our own transport vehicle repair shops, our own personal robot maintenance shops, our own physicians, our own structuralists. Our personnel live here and, if they have use for a personnel artist, that's Sandrix Gremionis and I live here, too. - Is there something wrong with my profession that I should not?"
"I haven't said that."
Gremionis turned away with a residual petulance that Baley's hasty disclaimer had not allayed. He pressed a button, then, after studying a varicolored rectangular strip, did something that was remarkably like drumming his fingers briefly.
A sphere dropped gently from the ceiling and remained suspended a meter or so above their heads. It opened as though it were an orange that was unsegmenting and a play of colors began within it, together with a soft wash of sound. The two melted together so skillfully that Baley, watching with astonishment, discovered that, after a short while, it was hard to distinguish one from the other.
The windows opacified and the segments grew brighter.
"Too bright?" asked Gremionis.
"No," said Baley, after some hesitation.
"It's meant for background and I've picked a soothing combination that will make it easier for us to talk in a civilized way, you know." Then he said briskly, "Shall we get to the point?"
Baley withdrew his attention from the - whatever it was (Gremionis had not given it a name) - with some difficulty and said, "If you please. I would like to."
"Have you been accusing me of having anything to do with the immobilization of that robot Jander?"
"I've been inquiring into the circumstances of the robot's ending."
"But you've mentioned me in connection with that ending. - In fact, just, a little while ago, you asked me if I were a roboticist. I know what you had in mind. You were trying to get me to admit I knew something about robotics, so that you could build up a case against me as the - as the - ender of the robot."
"You might say the killer."
"The killer? You can't kill a robot. - In any case, I didn't end it, or kill it, or anything you want to call it. I told you, I'm not a roboticist. I know nothing about robotics. How can you even think that - "
"I must investigate all connections, Mr. Gremionis. Jander belonged to Gladia - the Solarian woman - and you were friendly with her. That's a connection."
"There could be any number of people friendly with her. That's no connection."
"Are you willing to state that you never saw Jander in all the times you may have been in Gladia's establishment?"
"Never! Not once!"
"You never knew she had a humaniform robot?"
"No!"
"She never mentioned him."
"She had robots all over the place. All ordinary robots. She said nothing about having anything else."
Baley shrugged. "Very well. I have no reason - so far - to suppose that that is not the truth."
"Then say so to Gladia. That is why I wanted to see you. To ask you to do that. To insist."
"Has Gladia any reason to think otherwise?"
"Of course. You poisoned her mind. You questioned her about me in that connection and she assumed - she was made uncertain - The fact is, she called this morning and asked me if I had anything to do with it. I told you that."
"And you denied it?"