DR FREDERICK CHILTON, fifty-eight, administrator of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, has a long, wide desk upon which there are no hard or sharp objects. Some of the staff call it 'the moat.' Other staff members don't know what the word moat means. Dr Chilton remained seated behind his desk when Clarice Starling came into his office.
'We've had a lot of detectives here, but I can't remember one so attractive,' Chilton said without getting up.
Starling knew without thinking about it that the shine on his extended hand was lanolin from patting his hair. She let go before he did.
' It is Miss Sterling, isn't it? '
' It's Starling, Doctor, with an a. Thank you for your time. '
So the FBI is going to the girls like everything else, ha, ha. ' He added the tobacco smile he uses to separate sentences.
' The Bureau's improving, Dr Chilton. It certainly is. '
' Will you be in Baltimore for several days? You know, you can have just as good a time here as you can in Washington or New York, if you know the town. '
She looked away to spare herself his smile and knew at once that he had registered her distaste. ' I'm sure it's a great town, but my instructions are to see Dr Lecter and back this afternoon. '