The novelist seemed to hesitate on the brink of further information. His friend smiled understandingly.
"It doesn't matter, Warren. Go ahead. Shoot."
"Cured, eh?"
"No—dead."
Lockwood nodded sagely, his mouth half open as if his words were staring at Dorn.
"Well, there isn't much I know. I met a little girl the other day—Mary James; know her?"
"Yes."
"She was quite excited. She told me something about an artist that used to hang around Tesla. It seems that he kidnapped her and carted her to Chicago. This James girl was all upset."
An interruption in the person of Edwards the editor occurred. The talk lapsed once more into world problems with Lockwood listening, skeptically open-mouthed.
Late in the evening Edwards suddenly declared, "You're making a big mistake leaving New York, Erik. You've got a market now. Your stuff went big."