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“Yes, Miss Johnson, this cage of guinea pigs seems to be doing much better than the others. Ahem, that is, group B is doing better than group A!” Betty Johnson peered into the cage to see what it was that Dr. Randolph was looking at. To her surprise the pretty young assistant saw that the four guinea pigs who had been recipients of Dr. Adam Randolph’s special combination of glandular extractions were furiously fornicating in the most incredible combinations.
Betty blushed at the sight in spite of herself and then checked her emotions, glancing sideways at the college professor to see if he had noticed her unscientific response. But to her consternation the pretty brunette saw that Dr. Randolph was leering in the most unprofessional manner. “Leering,” definitely, and she would almost say, he was drooling as well! But even to think such a thing about the wise, well-thought-of scientist seemed almost sacrilegious. Even though Adam Randolph was not very old, forty-five at the most, he gave the appearance of an elderly man. His prematurely gray hair was partially responsible, and the rest of it was caused by his manner which was that of the absent-minded professor to the extreme.
For several evenings now, however, Betty Johnson had noticed a distinct difference in the professor’s manner. He’d been muttering to himself for one thing. Not in the usual way, which she was used to, but in another, rather alarming way, his voice rising and falling in strange cadences as though he were having an argument with some invisible person.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.