I could see the Professor wasn't one to be backed into any corners. "And how can I help in this work?"
"I am tracing at the moment, certain details in the life of Mabel Tutworthy, an aunt of Silas Reamer. Unauthenticated legends indicate she killed an eight-point buck once, with her bare hands, and dragged it home across ten miles of forest."
"I've heard that, and it's probably true. You think it has something to do with what happened to Silas?"
"—And his son Henry."
"I think you'll find what you want in that section by the south window. It's devoted to local history."
"Thank you, my dear." He moved away, reminding me somehow, of a happy retriever going into a lake after a duck. Halfway to the shelves, he halted suddenly and turned. "Did you know that seventy percent of the accidents happen to twenty percent of the people?"
I didn't, but I refused to admit such backwardness. "I certainly do. Amazing, isn't it?"
"That is one of the pillars upon which my work is based."
"And there are others?"
"Seven in all."