I'LL WAIT, the machine typed.
I nodded my head emphatically. It was almost noon, and I had a lot to do. I tossed one more fiery glance at the typewriter, and then left it alone on the table.
I went into twelve pawn shops before I found the fat old man.
When he saw me step through the doorway, he tried to duck into the back room, but I stopped him with my voice.
"No you don't!" I shouted. "I want to talk to you."
He came back to the counter furtively, awaiting my approach like a man about to be hanged.
"What is it?" he asked tiredly.
"You know what it is," I told him.
"Poe," he said. "Shakespeare."