“They stamped every sheet without one objection,” Frank said.

He stopped to polish his reading glasses with his silk cloth before looking across the desk at me.

“You look twenty years younger than you did in December, Raymond.”

“The doctor at the clinic gave me a clean bill of health last Friday,” I said, clearing my throat.

“My liver numbers are back to normal, and the heavy metals are completely out of my blood.”

Frank nodded slowly, tapping his wooden pen on his notebook.