“I simply can't get along until after my third cup,” the Professor said. “You just wait a moment and I'll bring the pot in here.”
He left Larry to sit in the combined study and living room while he shuffled off in his slippers to the kitchen. Larry Woolford decided that in his school days he'd had some far out professors himself, but it would really be something to study under this one. Not that the old boy didn't have some points, of course. Almost all nonconformists base their particular peeves on some actuality, but in this case, what was the percentage? How could you buck the system? Particularly when, largely, it worked.
The Professor returned with an old-fashioned coffeepot, two cups, and sugar and cream on a tray. He put them on a side table and said to Larry, “You'll join me? How do you take it?”
Larry still had the slightest of hang-overs from his solitary drinking of the night before. “Thanks. Make it black,” he said.
The Professor poured, served, then did up a cup for himself. He sat back in his chair and said, “Now, where were we? Something about a revolutionary group. What has that to do with counterfeiting?”
Larry sipped the strong coffee. “It seems there might be a connection.”
The Professor shook his head. “It's hard to imagine Ernest Self being connected with a criminal pursuit.”
Larry said carefully, “Susan seemed to be of the opinion that you knew about a large amount of counterfeit currency that this Movement had on hand and that you were in favor of spending it upon chorus girls.”
The Professor gaped at him.