"But you're not interested, you just said—"
"Of course I am, you old fool, go on!"
"Well, the book's in an old house down near Washington Square. It'll be difficult to get. Its owner's in jail."
"In jail!"
"Yes. He's serving a stretch—twenty years."
"What for?"
"Murder!"
"Now, Colonel, I hope you didn't come here to amuse me with fairy tales. I'm very busy this morning."
"No. That's straight. He's up for twenty years. He murdered his sweetheart. The court brought in a verdict of manslaughter, so he got a light sentence."
"Well, what's that got to do with the book?"