"Sure," Ed said. "The same with you. Charley, do you follow the papers?"
"I guess so," Charley said. "One, anyway. My mother sends it to me from Chicago. She likes the—"
"Sure," Ed said. "Well, did you ever hear about a Dr. Schinsake? Edmund Charles Schinsake?"
Charley snorted in surprise. "Who do you think you are?" he said. "Santa Claus?"
"What?"
"Nothing," Charley said. "It's just ... well, nothing. But sure, I know the guy. And so do you." He explained.
"Professor Lightning?" Ed said. "I never saw a picture. But it doesn't matter—except maybe it'll make the guy easier to see. Because this is it, Charley; I think you ought to go and see him."
There was a little silence.
"You, too?" Charley said. "You mean, so I can stop being a poor, poor cripple and stop making lots of money? Is that what you're talking about?"
"Listen, Charley," Ed said. "I—"