The fact was that, as far as I could see, he wasn't chasing anything
at all.
You have to get the picture: Here was Greco, racing around with one
eye on the scale and one eye on thin air; he kept bumping into things,
and every now and then he'd stop, and stare around at the gadgets on
the lab benches, and maybe he'd throw a switch or turn a dial, and
then he'd be off again.
He kept it up for ten minutes and, to tell you the truth, I began to
wish that I'd made some better use of Pudge Detweiler's cab fare. The
Greek looked as though he'd flipped, nothing less.
But there I was. So I waited.
And by and by he seemed to get whatever it was he was looking for and
he stopped, breathing heavily.