"It all sounds a bit less rigorous than the life of the average G.P."

"It is, it is." He brightened. "But I've got one job — a hobby to me — that the average G.P. can't have. The ice machine. I've made myself an expert on that."

"What does Henry think about it?"

"What? Henry?" He laughed. "Not that kind of ice machine. I'll show you later."

Henry brought food, and I'd have liked the maitres d'h?tel of some. allegedly five-star hotels in London to be there to see what a breakfast should be like. When I'd finished and told Benson that I didn't see that his lectures on the dangers of overweight were going to get him very far, he said: "Commander Swanson said you might like to look over the ship. I'm at your complete disposal."

"Very kind of you both. But first I'd like to shave, dress and have a word with the captain."

"Shave if you like. No one insists on it. As for dress, shirt and pants are the uniform of the day here. And the captain told me to tell you that he'd let you know immediately if anything that could possibly be of any interest to you came through."

So I shaved and then had Benson take me on a conducted tour of this city under the sea. The «Dolphin», I had to admit, made any British submarine I'd ever seen look like a relic from the Ice Age.

To begin with, the sheer size of the vessel was staggering. So big had the hull to be to accommodate the huge nuclear reactor that it had internal accommodation equivalent to that of a 3,000-ton surface ship, with three decks instead of the usual one and lower hold found in the conventional submarine. The size, combined with the clever use of pastel paints for all the accommodation spaces, working spaces, and passageways, gave an overwhelming impression of lightness, airiness, and, above all, spaciousness.