A long second passed. Then Burris said: "Oh. Malone, I forgot to give you the analysis report."
That, Malone realized dimly, was supposed to be the wet sock. Fate, he told himself, was against him. Anyhow, something was against him. It was a few seconds before he came to the conclusion that what he had heard didn't really make any sense. "Analysis report?" he said.
"On the water cooler," Burris explained cheerfully.
"There is an analysis report on a water cooler," Malone said. "Everything now becomes as clear as crystal." He heard his voice begin to rise. "You analyzed a water cooler and discovered that it was a Siberian spy in disguise," he said, trying to make himself sound less hysterical.
"No, no," Burris said, pushing at Malone with his palms. "The water in it, Malone. The water in it."
"No Siberian spy," Malone said with decision, "could disguise himself as the water in a water cooler."
"I didn't say that," Burris went on. "But what do you think was in that water cooler, Malone?"
"Water," Malone said. "Cool water."
"Congratulations," Burris said, in the hearty tones usually reserved for announcers on programs where housewives win trips to Nome. "You are just a shade less than ninety-nine point nine nine per cent correct."
"The rest of the water," Malone hazarded, "was warm?"