“Probably,” Boyd said. “We’ll figure it out later.” He leafed through the newspaper slowly, pulling thoughtfully at his beard from time to time. Malone watched him in breathless silence.
“See it?” he said at last.
Boyd looked up and, very slowly, nodded. “You’re right, Ken,” he said in a quiet voice. “You’re absolutely right. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“And that,” Malone said, “sounds like an insult. It’s much plainer than that. Suppose you tell me.”
Boyd considered. “Over here,” he said at last, “there are a lot of confused jerks and idiots. Right?”
“Correct,” Malone said.
“And in Russia,” Boyd went on, “there’s a lot of confusion. Right?”
“Sure,” Boyd said. “It’s perfectly clear. I wonder why I didn’t see it before.”
“That’s it!” Malone cried. “That’s the difference!”
“Sure,” Boyd said. “It’s perfectly clear. I wonder why I didn’t see it before.”