"How in hell do you know I'm hot ?" he demanded gruffly.
The little man grinned.

"There's signs.

Your face looks like you'd had it in an oven.

Now, don't lose your temper; I didn't mean to offend you." The little man's voice was placative; his manner gravely ingratiating.
Yet Sanderson divined that the other was inwardly laughing at him.
Why?
Sanderson did not know.

He was aware that he must seem awkward in the role of brother, and he suspected that the little man had noticed it; possibly the little man was one of those keen-witted and humorously inclined persons who find amusement in the incongruous.
There was certainly humor in the man's face, in the glint of his eyes, and in the curve of his lips.