Brave said to himself, Here is a shrewd customer, who isn't one-tenth the fool he appears to be.
"You don't have an appointment with Dr. Rackham."
"No, I don't. A plump little meathead called Getty over at the central offices said he'd be here, and I popped over on the chance. I want to inveigle him onto a TV program of mine."
"Dr. Rackham is a busy man."
"So is President Blose of the U.S. of A., but he came on the program, Lo. Pardon me," said the man, "there I go again. It's second nature. I don't mean to offend, but I was a disk jockey once. Look, friend, my name is Jim McEldownie. I'm Worlds of Portent McEldownie."
"I'm Lashings of Victuals Kiwanawatiwa, and my eggs are scorching," said Brave, going out to the kitchen. "The books are counted, so are the pipes, and the first editions are booby-trapped. Don't get ideas."
"Injun, I could grow to love you," said McEldownie. "Listen, seriously, don't you ever watch TV?"
"I do not."
"That explains it. Existing in the dark like this, you wouldn't have heard of me. I run this klatch, see, called Worlds of Portent, onto which I entice various important and pseudo-important characters, and there I cajole and browbeat and query till they tell me all sorts of fascinating lies, and the public laps it up like a bunch of silly cats."