"I'll fix us sandwiches," he said, and started fishing around his sea-chest. I watched his shoulders move for a moment, and then my eyes closed. # "Well, good morning," Mr Adelson said, as I sat bolt upright, disoriented in a strange bed with a strange blanket. "Coffee?" He was leaning over a little Sterno stove, heating up a small tin pot. Morning sun streamed in through the grimy window. "I wrapped your sandwich up from last night. It's there, on the dresser." I stood up and saw that except for my shoes, I was still dressed. The sandwich was salt beef and cheese, and the sourdough was stale, and it was the best thing I'd ever eaten. Mr Adelson handed me a tin cup full of strong coffee, and though I don't much like coffee, I found myself drinking it as fast as I could. "Thank you, Mr Adelson," I said. "Robert," he said, and sat down on the room's only chair. I perched on the bed's end. "Well, you seem to have had quite a day! Let's hear about it." I told him as much as I could, fudging around some of the details -- my Mama surely did know where I was, even if she wasn't very happy about it; and of course, I couldn't tell him that I'd met Nussbaum in 1975, so I just moved the locale to France, and caged around what message he'd asked me to deliver to Reddekop. It still made for a pretty exciting telling. "So you want me to go to this lawyer's office with you? To look over the papers? James, I'm just a sailor, I'm not qualified." I'd prepared for this argument, on the long slog to the rooming house. "But _I_ know something about this; they won't believe it, though, and will slip all kinds of dirty tricks in if they think that the only fellow who'll be looking at it is just a kid." "Explain to me again why you don't want to wire Mr Johnstone to come and look it over? It sounds like an awful lot of money for him not to be involved." "He's not my Pa, Robert. I don't even _like_ him, and chances are, he'll hide away all that money until I'm eighteen or _twenty-one_, and try to send me off to school." "And what's wrong with that? You have other plans?" "Sure," I said, too loudly -- I hadn't really worked that part out. I just knew that the next time I set foot in New Jerusalem, I'd be my own man, a man of the world, and not dependent on anyone. I'd take Mama and Mr Johnstone out for a big supper, and stay in the fanciest room at the Stableman's hotel, and hire Tommy Benson to carry my bags to my room. "Besides, I'm not asking you to do this for _free_. I'll pay you a -- an administrative fee. Five percent, _for life_!" He looked serious. "James, if I do this -- mind I said _if_ -- I won't take a red cent. There are things here that you're not telling me. Now, that's your business, but I want to make sure that if anyone ever scrutinises the affair, that it's clear that I didn't receive any benefit from it."