They were both drunk when they came in and Walpole had some arsenic with him that he was going to make a bug spray with. He got sore at Kinder for some drunken reason and poured some of the stuff into his drink while Kinder was in the washroom. Then something pulled them back into the street before they had their drinks. Garver heard metal grind and thought that was probably it. Once outside, they probably forgot what tavern they'd been in because they didn't return. Garver was glad to get rid of them. He hadn't seen the poison-pouring bit and dumped the shots into the bottle. When Davis keeled over as a result of the next shot out of the bottle, Garver was scared. He could lose his job and his boss could have lost his license for serving drunks and for pouring the whisky back. So that was the case. A tragic incident, with Walpole not even remembering what he'd done. And with Davis dead. * * * * * We would have been better off leaving it there--charging Dalrymple off as a crackpot who had made a lucky guess and taking the credit for breaking the case. We _did_ take the credit, but it was hard to believe, once he'd gone, that Dalrymple was actually for real. So one afternoon a couple of weeks later we were passing the Crestwood Hotel. Donovan braked the car and squinted at the building. "This is where he said he lived." I knew who Donovan meant. "Uh-huh." "Let's go up." "Why not?" We went in and got the room number from the clerk and went on up. We knocked. Dalrymple opened the door. He hadn't changed a bit. There was a sneer on his face, hostility in his voice when he said, "Ha--the police force. What happened? Somebody steal your squad car?". He turned around before we could answer and went back into the room. We followed him and stood there looking at the layout. He had a big table in the middle of the floor and there was a huge sheet of paper on it. The sheet was almost completely covered with the funny symbols he'd used in solving the bar poisoning. Or had he solved it? Anyhow, he went back to his work as though we hadn't even come--adding more symbols along one edge--and finally Donovan asked, "What in the hell are you doing?" Dalrymple looked up as though annoyed at being disturbed. "I'm arranging to stay on your planet. I like it here." "But what's all that got to do with staying?" "I have to have money. The way things are done here, money is vitally necessary." "How are you going to get it?" Dalrymple looked up and his sneer brightened. "I'm going to steal it." Donovan and I looked at each other in a kind of double-take. Then I said, "I don't suppose you'd care to tell us how and where you're going to do the stealing?" "I won't tell you how--that would be silly. I don't mind telling you where." He put down another symbol. "All right--where?"