"Photographing how cannonballs are stacked on different
courthouse lawns. Apparently how they've got them stacked in that
picture is very unusual."
"He was an unusual man."
"Maybe in a million years everybody will be as smart as he
was and see things the way he did. But, compared with the average
person of today, he was as different as a man from Mars."
"Maybe he really _was_ a Martian," I suggested.
"That would certainly go a long way toward explaining his
three strange kids."
While Miss Faust and I waited for an elevator to take us to
the first floor, Miss Faust said she hoped the elevator that came
would not be number five. Before I could ask her why this was a
reasonable wish, number five arrived.
Its operator was a small ancient Negro whose name was Lyman
Enders Knowles. Knowles was insane, I'm almost sure--offensively
so, in that he grabbed his own behind and cried, "Yes, yes!"
whenever he felt that he'd made a point.
"Hello, fellow anthropoids and lily pads and paddlewheels,"
he said to Miss Faust and me. "Yes, yes!"
"First floor, please," said Miss Faust coldly.
All Knowles had to do to close the door and get us to the
first floor was to press a button, but he wasn't going to do that
yet. He wasn't going to do it, maybe, for years.
"Man told me," he said, "that these here elevators was Mayan
architecture. I never knew that till today. And I says to him,
'What's that make me--mayonnaise?' Yes, yes! And while he was
thinking that over, I hit him with a question that straightened
him up and made him think twice as hard! Yes, yes!"
"Could we please go down, Mr. Knowles?" begged Miss Faust.
"I said to him," said Knowles, "'This here's a _re_-search
laboratory. _Re_-search means _look again_, don't it? Means
they're looking for something they found once and it got away