Channing did so. Qui Dor shut the drawer.
"Now where is it?" the Targoffian Ambassador demanded.
"In the drawer."
"Indeed? How do you know?"
"Well, I—suppose I don't know."
"Open the drawer, if you please."
Channing did, and found the tiara. "See?"
"Yes, but what about when the drawer was shut? I admit, it's a difficult concept to grasp at once. You see, we of Targoff are not interested whether the tiara exists when someone is not actively perceiving it or not. It exists when existence becomes a necessary quality for it. It's a Monday, Wednesday, Friday concept, Mr. Channing. Your mind can grasp it only at times, and perhaps even then flittingly. Like the ontological proof for the existence of your God: by definition. He is an infinitely perfect Being. Since existence is one of the qualities of infinite perfection, He exists. Do I make myself clear?"
"No-o."
"Here. Take the tiara to your wife. My compliments. Things will work out for you, Mr. Channing."