He slumped back in his chair. "You aren't lying?"
I didn't say anything.
"How ... did you do it?"
"With peach pits," I said.
"Peach pits!"
"Peach pits. They like apricot pits too, and sometimes prune seeds."
"What in the world are you talking about, Prescott? Have you lost your mind?"
I opened the humidor on his desk, took out a cigar, smelled it, bit off the end, lit it, and took a deep puff before answering him. I settled down into a comfortable chair and pointed the lighted end of the cigar in his direction.
"Between one or the other of us we had tried everything, everything. I realized finally that it would have to be an entirely different approach."