"I guess we might have spared the fumigation. However, the safest
side is the best."

"What is it? Some new game in projective germs?" demanded the
chemist.

"Oh, disinfectants will kill other things besides germs," returned
Average Jones. "Luna moths, for instance. Wait a few days and I'll
have some mail to show you on that subject. In the meantime, have a
plumber solder up that keyhole so tight that nothing short of
dynamite can get through it."

Collectors of lepidoptera rose in shoals to the printed offer of
luna moths measuring ten and eleven inches across the wings.
Letters came in by, every mail, responding variously with fervor,
suspicion, yearning eagerness, and bitter skepticism to Average
Jones' advertisement. All of these he put aside, except such as
bore a New York postmark. And each day he compared the new names
signed to the New York letters with the directory of occupants of
the Stengel Building. Less than a week after the luna moth
advertisement appeared, Average Jones walked into Malcolm Dorr's
office with a twinkle in his eye.

"Do you know a man named Marcus L. Ross?" he asked the chemist.

"Never heard of him."

"Marcus L. Ross is interested, not only in luna moths, but in the
rest of the Moseley collection. He writes from the Delamater