gs. Okay?"

He grinned his old happy smile, and some of the dewey glaze seemed to
peel from his eyes. "You're right, George," he said much to my surprise.
"I can't coast forever--and believe me, I never visualized what this
would be like. It's wonderful. The world is at my feet, George. At my
feet!"

I had pegged him right. But after all, who could resist the accolade he
had received? For all his monomania on this business of mnemonics, he
was a red-blooded boy with active glands and youthful corpuscles.

To my further delight he threw off his imported suit-coat and said, "I'm
ready right now. Where do we start?"

* * * * *

I broached the file and studied my priority list. "First off, Oscar
wants a play. That'll take a week or two, I suppose. Then I have an
assignment for a serial--"

I outlined about three months work for him, or what would have been
three months work last summer.

I moved him into my own penthouse apartment upstairs and herded him to
work the next morning. My squad of strong-arms guarded all entrances,
and Hec Blankenship finally convinced the public that we meant business
in getting a little privacy for our tame genius so he could hatch some
more immortal works.

I had lunch sent in to him in the next office and didn't see him until
five that first evening. I went in without knocking. One secretary was
filing her nails, and the other three were putting on their coats. The
covers were still on the typewriters and Hillary was asleep or in a coma
over in the corner.

I kicked his feet off his desk, and he rocked forward. "Come on
upstairs, I'll buy you a steak," I said.

He smiled weakly, "I need one. It didn't go so good." In the elevator he
added, "In fact, it didn't go at all."

"Take it easy," I assured him. "You're a little rusty, that's all. What
about the total recall? Is it still working?"

He nodded, but he didn't say any more about it.

Next day I stuck my head in before I went to lunch, and I congratulated
myself on not pushing him too hard the first day. Hillary was off in his
corner again, but his mouth was moving and all four girls were doing the
things that secretaries do when they are about two hours behind in their
work.

Eight days later the thing dropped on my desk. I wet a finger with keen
anticipation, but the spit wasn't dry before I was plowing into
Hillary's office trailing loose sheets.

"Are you kidding?" I yelled.

He was o