We touched our glasses together and downed the contents before either of us said anything at all. Then I asked, “Got any idea why it works like that?”
He nodded.
I said, “Don’t tell me. Wait until I’ve had a couple more drinks and then I can take it—maybe.” I raised my voice and said, “Hey, Joe; just leave that bottle in reach on the bar. We’ll settle for it.”
He did, and I had two more shots fairly quick. Then I closed my eyes and said, “All right, George, why?”
“Remember that guy who had those special mats cut and rented the use of my Linotype to set up something that was too secret for anybody to read? I can’t remember his name—what was it?”
I tried to remember, and I couldn’t. I had another drink and said, “Call him the L.G.W.T.P.”
George wanted to know why and I told him, and he filled his glass again and said, “I got a letter from him.”
I said, “That’s nice.” And I had another drink and said, “Got the letter with you?”
“Huh-uh. I didn’t keep it.”
I said, “Oh.”