During the 137 minutes that I’d been concerned/worried/crazed out of my mind, I had learned something, and now that Anna was finally knocking, I felt grateful for the delay.

Second mirror check.

There will be no recriminations, I told myself.

I popped a breath mint in my mouth.

No sirree. All is forgiven . . .

My heart was racing as I opened the door.

“Mr. Trammel?”

“What!” I groaned.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“What is it, Nils?”

“Your Bible, sir.” Nils extended the Bible. It was a deep gold color. It was the “Good News for Modern Man” version. “We didn’t have one on the premises. So on my dinner break, I went to a Christian bookstore. The cashier recommended this one. She asked if you were a devout believer. I said I didn’t know but that you were very disturbed about the lack of Bibles at the Infinity Hotel. She sold us this for half price.”

I opened my wallet.

“You can charge it to your room.”

“No, here.” I gave Nils two twenty-dollar bills.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No, thank you, Nils.”

“You must be a religious person, Mr. Trammel.”

“No, but I might be very soon.”

Nils and I stood before each other.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Oh, sure. I was just watching the telly.” (I noticed that Mr. Trammel had begun to speak with a faint British accent. Perhaps he had lived for a time in London.) I went on, “Did you know that over the course of seven years, every cell in each of our bodies is replaced?”

“No, sir,” he said, “I didn’t know that.”

“I learned it earlier this evening. Every seven years—a whole new set of cells. Isn’t that astonishing?”

Nils smiled like he had a secret.

I had to ask, “What is it?”

Nils: “I like knowing odd facts and information, too. For instance, did you know that Brazil is the only country named after a tree?”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

“The little parallelogram above your top lip is called the philtrum. Five years—or half a decade—is a lustrum. George Washington’s teeth were not made of wood; they were made from hippopotamus, deer, horse, and human teeth screwed into an ivory base. Oh, and an opossum does not play dead. He gets so scared he faints!”

“Well done, Nils,” I said, laughing. “You’re distracting me, and I am most grateful.”

“I can keep going!” And he did, speaking even faster, like an auctioneer. “According to the World Health Organization, there are more than one hundred million acts of sexual intercourse each day. The following men had or have one testicle: Fred Astaire; former president Jimmy Carter; the late, great race-car driver Dale Earnhardt. And my all-time favorite: Eighty-five percent of men who have heart attacks and die during sex are doing what?”