“Very humorous. A yuk. What about this Torgesson?”

“He's worked out a system for determining scientifically

the value of a piece of writing. It's a tremendous piece of work. It's-it's-”

“ And it's secret?”

“Certainly it's secret. He's not a science fiction professor. In science fiction, when a man thinks up a theory, he announces it to the newspapers right away. In real life, that's not done. A scientist spends years on experimentation sometimes before going into print. Publishing is a serious thing.”

“Then how do you know about it? Just a question.”

“It so happens that Dr. Torgesson is a fan of mine. He happens to like my stories. He happens to think I'm the best fantasy writer in the business.”

“ And he shows you his work?”

“That's right. I was counting on you being stubborn about this yam and I've asked him to run an experiment for us. He said he would do it if we don't talk about it. He said it would be an interesting experiment. He said-”

“What's so secret about it?”

“Well-” Marmie hesitated. “Look, suppose I told you he had a monkey that could type Hamlet out of its head.”

Hoskins stared at Marmie in alarm. “What are you working up here, a practical joke?” He turned to Miss Kane. “When a writer writes science fiction for ten years he just isn't safe without a personal cage.”

Miss Kane maintained a steady typing speed.

Marmie said, “You heard me; a common monkey, even funnier-looking than the average editor. I made an appointment for this afternoon. Are you coming with me or not?”

“Of course not. You think I'd abandon a stack of manuscripts this high”-and he indicated his larynx with a cutting motion of the hand-”for your stupid jokes? You think I’ll play straight man for you?”

“If this is in any way a joke, Hoskins, I’ll stand you dinner in any restaurant you name. Miss Kane's the witness.”

Hoskins sat back in his chair. “You’ll buy me dinner? You, Marmaduke Tallinn, New York's most widely known tapeworm-on-credit, are going to pick up a