Chapter 13. The Red Panda opened his eyes and was, for an instant, alarmed by the pitch blackness before him.

He froze, stocked still in the hard wooden chair in which he had awoken. To his left there was a soft padding sound approaching, and something else,

a smell like burnt caramel that could only be one thing.

Rise and shine, Pudding Head, he heard Kit sing as a cup of her terrible coffee was

set on the table before him. He was still groggy, still confused.

"'Your face is on, crooked,' she said, as she took his head in her hands, and struggled as best she could with the bright red domino mask.

For an instant she pulled the mask's lenses in front of his eyes, and he could see her,

half-seated on the edge of the work-table in their crime lab,

her hair piled carelessly on top of her head,

and wearing that long green coat she had taken to for her days off.

She had obviously made her way from the new section of pneumatic tube rather than entered via the mansion, as she hadn't bothered with her chauffeur's uniform.

Then, as quickly as she appeared, she pulled the mask again, and the lenses shifted to the left,

leaving him blind once more.

Be careful, he warned, his hands darting up and touching hers for an instant before she pulled away.

"'You'll trip the mask's safety charge and give yourself a shock.'

He removed the mask himself and rubbed his eyes.

He could just see her with her chin cupped in her hands,

giving him a look like a small, dull boy of whom she was very fond.

If the static electrical charge was still live, the mask couldn't have slipped in the first place.

Somebody let it run down, she admonished gently, taking the mask from him and heading for the piece of equipment against the wall.

There's coffee if you want it. He took the cup gratefully.

Her coffee was not unlike warm tar, but it certainly did get a fellow going after a long night.

...