friend and colleague, Dr.
Fincher, out in California. Wally Fincher was a well-known physicist
now, though how anyone ever managed to struggle through his dry
ponderous books Dane didn't know. Probably he had gained most of his
fame through his part in those experiments where they bounced radar
blips off the moon, Dane thought.

Wally always talked in long unnecessary words. He never merely "went"
when he could "proceed," he never simply "used" when it was possible to
"utilize," he didn't "get things done"--he "implemented" them. Professor
Dane made a mental note to put in a long distance call to Wally that
evening and tweak his nose a bit. Maybe Dane could pretend he was the
FBI--disguise his voice and interrogate Wally, as though he were
investigating him. He chuckled a little at the idea. Then he realized
that the young man had been talking and he hadn't been listening.

"... so among other things, sir, we thought it best to monitor your
official mail and hope you won't mind."

"What?" said Dane, raising his eyebrows.

"_And_ your phone. You'll hear a couple of clicks whenever you use it.
We're recording what's said over it--though I assure you all records
obtained will be kept in strictest confidence."

* * * * *

Dane acquiesced. The young man finally managed to make it clear that all
this surveillance would have to be with Dane's permission and the
professor, annoyed though he was, didn't want to appear uncooperative.
He couldn't resist, however, giving the young man the wrong hat when he
went out and being delighted when the young man came back for the right
one five minutes later. He was glad to see that something could fluster
him.

But that wasn't really enough. Professor Dane had been annoyed, and he
needed to express himself further--by means of the joke, which was his
art--in order to regain some measure of his equilibrium and
self-respect.

Inspiration visited him as he was climbing the stairs to his bedroom at
ten-thirty that evening. He stopped short, thought a minute, then began
to chuckle. He turned and went downstairs again, stepped to the phone.
Professor Dane lived alone and no one else would be able to share his
planned joke--but this didn't matter.

He had been privately enjoying his pranks ever since, as a frail boy
with an unreasonable and dominating male parent, he had discovered that
they were one way in which he could compete with hardier souls, at t