“I think it is in a box about this shape—see?—a gray box, in the attic closet, the farthest-in corner.”
“Are you sure it’s in the house? If it’s in the house, I think I can find it.”
“Yes, I’m sure of that.”
When he returned that night, his face wore a look of satisfaction very imperfectly concealed beneath a mask of nonchalance.
“Good for you! Was it where I said?”
“No.”
“Was it in a different corner?”
“No.”
“Where was it?”
“It wasn’t in a corner at all. It wasn’t in that closet.”