He blew out a ring, watched it float away into the darkness and said:
"So am I. But I've a small, single compartment brain that can't accommodate more than one idea at a time. And it's busy just now in another direction. If you'll put that forty horse-power one of yours on this we ought to get round the whole way." He glanced sideways at me, his eyes full of meaning. "You'll find I can be a very grateful person."
"Gratitude's a kind of pay I like."
"Yes—it's stimulating and it can take more than one form." He flung away the cigarette, leaned back against the post and said: "The worst of it is that our main exhibit, the cigar band, is gone. I looked for it last night and found it was lost."
"Lost!" I sat up quick. He'd told me where he kept it and right off I thought it was funny. "Gone out of that box you had it in?"
"Yes. I wanted to see it when I came in—I'd been in town—and it wasn't in the box."
"Had it been there recently?"
"Um—I can't tell just how recently—perhaps a week ago."
"Did you ask about it?"
"Yes, I asked Willitts. He said he hadn't seen it."