"Fleetwood Cassidy," Fleetwood told the Towers. "_Mr._ Fleetwood Cassidy." "Very well, Mr. Cassidy, just one mo.... Did you say _Fleetwood_ Cassidy?" "I did," Fleetwood said. "And tell Mr. Dermitt it's a matter of life and death." "I see," the Towers mused with modulated forebearance, "it's a little joke, eh? Who shall we say is _really_ calling?" "Never mind," Fleetwood said. "Just say it's a friend on a matter of extreme urgency. Snap into it." "Oh, very well," the Towers said, plainly piqued, "if you insist." * * * * * A silence followed, punctuated by several non-committal clicks and an intermittent buzzing. Finally the voice of the Towers resumed. "Mr. Dermitt will speak to you, sir," it announced regretfully. "Please hold on while he changes instruments." There was a final click and the voice of the Towers was supplanted by the voice of Grant Dermitt. It expressed an even blend of harassment and vexation. "Now, look here, Paul," it said, getting right down to brass tacks, "this isn't the time for you to be calling up with your bum jokes, telling the clerk you're Fleetwood Cassidy. I'm in a jam with this yarn and I haven't got time to be cute. Now, what's on your mind?" "I don't know Paul," Fleetwood said, "so I'm in no position to speak for him. But I'll be very happy to tell you what's on my mind. And that's plenty. In fact I'm only calling to warn you I'm on my way over to tell you about it right now." "What?" Grant Dermitt said. "Who is this anyway?" "Fleetwood Cassidy," Fleetwood said, "that's who. And don't tell me I can't be, because I am." "Now, just a minute," Grant Dermitt broke in. "Whoever you are, you've got a lousy sense of humor. And if you've got anything important to say, which I dismiss as a serious possibility, you'd better get on with it before I hang up, which I am just about to do." "Okay," Fleetwood said. "I'll run over the facts, touching lightly on the high spots. We'll shoot in the details later when I see you. My name is Fleetwood Cassidy. I'm six feet tall, have red hair, grey-green eyes and ears that noticeably protrude. I've been going through a lot of damnfool nonsense for quite some time because of you and I'm fed up to the teeth with it. I'd like to see you in order to turn in my resignation in person, but if you prefer, I'll be just as pleased to send it to you through the mails. If you don't believe...." "You're crazy," Dermitt interrupted. "I'm hanging up." "Just a minute," Fleetwood said firmly. "There's more and it gets more interesting as it goes along. I've just come from being deceived by a woman named Evelyn who has class, alternately pronounced with a hard and soft 'a', slugged behind the ear by a putty-faced gunman named Mario and pitched headfirst into a black abyss. But I decided the whole sequence was too corny, so I got up off the floor, dusted myself off and called you up just to say hello. Does any of that ring a bell with you, Dermitt?"