“Nice for you,” Jeffery said irritably. “Is it for real this time?”

“Now, now, now,” Ram-Ram said. “I just dropped in to say good-bye. I’m going to take a trip and do some writing. I must say, you don’t look very happy to see your partner in crime.” He chuckled, and stared passively at the ceiling. “You do look pooped, Jeffy-boy, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I mind! And I don’t like being called Jeffy-boy,” Jeffery said.

“No. Of course you don’t. The boy is part of the man, though …”

“Now what do you mean by that?” Jeffery demanded.

Ram-Ram sat down, smiling affably. “Only that you used to be so stuffy. I liked to remind you of the boy buried in there somewhere.”

Jeffery stopped, stared, and asked despite himself, “Will? Are you talking about Will?” Even as he spoke, he felt an absence in himself. Where was Will?

“Will?” Ram-Ram asked.

“Nothing,” Jeffery answered, with such obvious relief that Ram-Ram pretended not to notice. He stared at the ceiling again. “Of course, scientific journals are out,” he said. “You can’t prove any of this.”

“Ram-Ram sees us,” Seven cried.

“Does he?” Cyprus said.

“Prove what?” Jeffery demanded. He sprang up from the couch, displaying more agitation than he’d intended.

“Well … whatever you’ve been up to,” Ram-Ram answered innocently. “I was here, out of body, for one thing, though you’d never admit that to any of our colleagues, I don’t suppose. My being a mental patient for a while doesn’t help you there either. Yes, yes, yes; I do have a good idea of your psychological adventures. You haven’t committed yourself to them, at least not all the way.”

Jeffery said as calmly as he could, “Just how much do you know about my activities? And how do you know whatever you know?” He paused and almost shouted, “Or think you know?”

Ram-Ram stood up, turning his back to Jeffery, arms folded behind his back, and walked toward the patio door. He stood, looking out. “I would imagine that you have a manuscript of some sort by now,” he said. “But my knowledge of your, ah, bizarre activities isn’t as detailed as you might think, or as I’d hoped. Before you called me about your first dream encounter with the two men, I wasn’t at all surprised. I’d had a dream of my own about you—”

“I need a drink,” Jeffery said abruptly.

“By all means,” Ram-Ram replied, beaming as if he were the host, and still talking, he went into the kitchen. Jeffery heard the sounds of ice cubes being clunked into glasses, and Ram-Ram returned with drinks for both of them.

“A toast,” he said grandly.

“The dream,” Jeffery said.