"But I'm curious. Could I get in touch with that woman—what's her name?"
"Searles. Mrs. George Searles."
"Would that change the results?"
"Not in the slightest. If you want to graph the membership rise, it should be going up in a log curve, probably doubling every so often."
I grinned. "If it's not rising, you're fired."
He grinned back. "If it's not rising, you won't have to fire me—I'll burn my books and shoot myself."
I returned to my office and put in a call to Watashaw.
While I was waiting for the phone to be answered, I took a piece of graph paper and ruled it off into six sections, one for each month. After the phone had rung in the distance for a long time, a servant answered with a bored drawl:
"Mrs. Searles' residence."
I picked up a red gummed star and licked it.