They touched glasses: "Your liquor is as exquisite as your living room, Herbert. I shall have to come here more often." "I hope you will, Kay." "Though such conduct, I'm told, is morally reprehensible on the planet Earth." "Not in this particular circle. Your hair is lovely." "Thank you.... You haven't mentioned my perfume yet. Perhaps I'm standing too far away.... There!" "It's--it's as lovely as your hair, Kay." "Um, kiss me again." "I--I never figured--I mean, I engaged a caterer to serve us dinner at 9:30." "Call him up. Make it 10:30." * * * * * The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The _snoll-doper_ mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course--notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorful characters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesque heroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd ever done! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of the bookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley was on display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior.... _Cut to interior._ FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there any more copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. You don't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ran out. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure that my children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOK CLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of-- ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.... Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true to form: _a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing? Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Gind ed, olro--Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj_ Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisle and staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kay doing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and her correspondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girl scouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badges in communications! You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though. Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the _snoll-doper_ enigma. The fact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a _snoll doper_, for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to an H-bomb.