"You've been rejecting the essential points, Mr. Reich. You must be made to see them. We'll try a little free association. Without words, please. Just think. Robbery...
"Jewels - watches - diamonds - stocks - bonds - sovereigns - counterfeiting - cash - bullion - dort..."
"What was that last again?"
"Slip of the mind. Meant to think bort... uncut, gem stones."
"It was not a slip. It was a significant correction or, rather, alteration. Let's continue. Pneumatique..."
"Long - car - compartments - air - conditioned... That doesn't make sense."
"It does, Mr. Reich. A phallic pun. Read `Heir' for `air' and you'll see it. Continue, please."
"You peepers are too damned smart. Let's see. Pneumatique... train - underground - compressed air - ultra sonic speed---`We transport You Into transports,' slogan of the---What the devil is the name of that company? Can't remember. Where'd the notion come from anyway?"
"From the pre-conscious, Mr. Reich. One more trial and you'll begin to understand. Amphitheater...
"Seats - pits - balcony - boxes - stalls - horse stalls - Martian horses - Martian Pampas..."
"And there you have it, Mr. Reich. Mars. In the past six months, you've had ninety-seven nightmares about The Man With No Face. He's been your constant enemy, frustrator, and inspirer of terror in dreams that contain three common denominators... Finance, Transportation, and Mars. Over and over again... The Man With No Face, and Finance, Transportation, and Mars."
"That doesn't mean anything to me."
"It must mean something, Mr. Reich. You must be able to identify this terrifying figure. Why else would you attempt to escape by rejecting his face?"
"I'm not rejecting anything." "I offer as further clues the altered word `Dort' and the forgotten name of the company that coined the slogan `We Transport You Into---' " "I tell you I don't know who it is." Reich arose abruptly from the couch.