nobody told him about the six-pointed star on the box he was shipped
in--he had to find out for himself.
And he wants to be sure, when he checks out, that he kept it bright
while he had the use of it.
Dave came in.
"By God," he said, "Wylie! The old, articulate cryptogram in person,
nude as a saint's stool!" It might have been a bracing autumn forenoon:
"I'm glad to see you! I was saying to a friend only the other night--a
jerk named Staunton--Staunton, the town's not the same--Wylie's not
here. The old termite has moved to the country--turned himself out to
pasture! And Florida in the winter! The son-of-a-bitch is chasing the
analema! Where's the patient?"