He shrugged. "Maybe—later."
He let go and fished in his pockets.
"Wait," I said.
I climbed out again with the cigarettes. Possibly—
"Toss 'em!"
I threw one—he reached—and it sailed out of sight, the sun catching it at the top of its arc. I tossed another. He got that one.
"Better go back inside," he said.
He lighted up and commenced to smoke.
I went in.
By then I was beginning to think a little. If I had a rope, I might get it over him. Only I didn't have a rope. And I might fail on the first try—in which case there probably would not be a second chance. If I could distract him for a bit, I still might grab him. Only, if there was any slip-up about that—he'd dive the sixteen floors. Well, then—what did you try to remind them of? How bright they were? How young? Or did you keep taunting them until they either went, or gave up? It looked as if that last wasn't right for Paul.