most expensive food in
the world."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Small amounts in hors d'oeuvres at
cocktail parties."

"Well, maybe I'm just a country boy but the stuff tastes like fish eggs
to me. Anyway, to get back to the story...."

He'd gone into Tiffany's and into some of the other swank shops. And
then into a bank or two, and stared at the treasures of Manhattan.

At this point he looked at Ross. "You know, just being invisible don't
mean all that. How you going to pick up a wad of thousand dollar bills
and just walk out the front door with them? Everybody'd see the dough
just kind of floating through the air."

"I came to the same conclusion myself, when I experimented," Ross said
wryly.

He had ridden on the subways ... free. He had eaten various food in
various swank restaurants. He had even had drinks in name bars, sampling
everything from Metaxa to vintage champagne. He was of the opinion that
even though he remained invisible for the rest of his years, he'd still
stick to bourbon and beer.

[Illustration]

He had gone down to Wall Street and into the offices of the top
brokerage firms and into the sanctum sanctorums of the wealthiest of
mucky-mucks but had been too impatient to stick around long enough to
possibly hear something that might be profitable. He admitted,
grudgingly, that he wouldn't have known what to listen for anyway.
Frustrated there, he had gone back uptown and finally located the
hangout of one of the more renown sports promoters who was rumored to
have gangster connections and was currently under bail due to a boxing
scandal. He had stayed about that worthy's office for an hour, gleaning
nothing more than several dirty jokes he'd never heard before.

All this activity had wearied him so he went to the Waldorf, located an
empty suite in the tower and climbed into bed for a nap after coolly
phoning room service to give him a call in two hours. That had almost
led to disaster. Evidently, someone on room service had found the suite
to be supposedly empty and had sent a boy up to investigate. However,
when he had heard the door open, Crowley had merely rolled out of the
bed and left, leaving a startled bellhop behind staring at rumpled
bedclothes which had seemed to stir of their own accord.

* * *

The rest of the day was little different from the first hours. He had
gone about gawking in places he couldn't have had he been visible. Into
the dressing roo