Nobody had been able to find Henry Sweet. He’d finally been discovered in the studio of his cottage painting a giant canvas bright orange. “I have an idea for a new painting,” he said, with a feverish light in his eyes. “That’s wonderful, darling!” said his wife. “Well, in that case, we must leave you to it.” She turned to the Space Brigade. “Perhaps we could postpone your journey until tomorrow night? Or next week? When the artistic mood strikes, Henry does nothing but paint. I’m sure you’ll understand.” But all that time they’d spent looking for Henry had well and truly cured Nicola of her beauty overload and put her in a cranky mood. She was also feeling queasy from eating too much dessert. “That’s not possible,” she said.“We must get to Griddlemill as soon as possible. Don’t forget that the Gorgioskios are only in the prison camp because they cared so much about your planet. And by the way, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re the president and your planet is under attack!
