"About a week."

"All the dogs you speak of died since then?"

"Yes."

"Did he give any explanation of the advertisement?"

"No. Acted half-crazy when he brought it to the office, the
business manager said. Wouldn't sign his name to the thing.
Wouldn't say anything about it. Begged the manager to let him have
the weather reports in advance, every day. The manager put the
advertisement in type, decided not to it, and returned the money."

"'Weather reports, eh?" Average Jones mused a moment. "How long was
the ad to run?"

"Until the first hard frost."

"Has there--er--been a--er--frost since?" drawled Average Jones.

"No."

"Who is this Moseley?"

"Don't know much about him. Scientific experimenter of some kind, I
believe. Very exclusive," added Mr. Curtis Fleming, with a grin.
"Never sociated with any of us neighbors. Rent on the nail, though.
Insane, too, I think. Writes letters to himself with nothing in
them."