"Why, _Miss Knox_! You sound like Royalty!" Miss Knox laughed. "I'm not ready to join the British Commonwealth yet. No fooling, Hilda, you see the Silvertongue cigarette factory across the river?" Miss Erwin twisted white-gloved hands in the dark. "Why, no ... mmm, smell that spray." An ocean-breathing tugboat passed, its complicated silhouette blocking the view. "No-oooooo," the whistle blew. "Just wait till that tug is gone. There, Miss Erwin. Do you see the Silvertongue factory? Just before the Williamsburg Bridge." "Is it the one with the new radio--the radio-thing on top?" "Radiocompressor. Yes." "They used to put _names_ on those factories. All lit up." "Well, ladies--ladies," said a gravel voice beyond the entrance lights. "How is life in the Toadstool?" "Boney!" said Miss Knox. "The what?" asked Miss Erwin. "That's what Dr. Brooks called it. Now you tell me what he meant--he wouldn't say. Toadstool." "Come into the light, Boney--you frighten us," said Miss Erwin. The man appeared, smiling, and climbed the first stone step. Resting his elbows on the lion and his chin in his hand, he looked down on them sideways. "Not _another_ new suit," said Miss Knox. It was an archaic double-breasted suit in good condition. Where the jacket hiked up in back, a wide expanse of extra trouser seat had been folded over and tucked beneath the belt. "Hundred-fifty-dollar suit," he said. "With or without the bottle?" asked Miss Knox. "What bottle?" "The one that bangs on your ribs when the breeze blows." "Now listen here, lady...." He came down the step. "Boney, I'm only kidding. You know that." "Kidding. _Kidding._ And here I was giving you inside information. _Inside_ information." "What information?" Bringing his drawn face so close that they could smell the wine, he gave both women a look of scorn. Then he backed away and leaned his padded shoulder against the lion. "Boney, she's sorry," said Miss Erwin. "I am not," said Miss Knox. * * * * * He glowered at her and walked away into the dark, his spider legs dissolving sooner than expected. Then he marched back. "Sorry," he said. "Ha. I won't tell you. I'm going to tell it to the Director himself." "Forget it, Boney. He'd throw you out again. You'd better just tell us." His skeleton hand stretched toward the water. "You see that radio presser?" "You mean the new radiocompressor on the Silvertongue factory?" "_Radio_compressor. All right. Do you ladies know what it does?" "Anything," Miss Knox said. "Our patient, Mr. Barger, builds them. He told us all about it the moment he came. In Greek." "Not--not _all_ about it. _I_ know all about it. I had a big deal going--my Armenian partner and me, we were buying up neckties to sell in the hospital...." "_What_ do you know? And will you _stop_ blowing in my face?" He glowered. "I'm sorry, Boney."