Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of the radio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redhead named Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand on Greg's arm. "If I was you," he said, "if I was you, Malcolm, I don't think I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow." Greg said, "Why not?" Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering. "Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him.