It wasn't Malone's notebook. In the first place, he had never owned a notebook that looked anything like that, and in the second place he hadn't had any notebooks on him when he went for his walk. _Mine not to question why_, Malone told himself with a shrug, and flipped the book open. At once he knew why the cop had mistaken it for his. There, right on the first page, was a carefully detailed drawing of a 1972 Cadillac. It had been painstakingly colored in with a red pencil. Malone stared at it for a second, and then went on to page two. This page carried a list of names running down the left margin. _Ramon O. Mario G. Silvo E. Felipe A. Alvarez la B. Juan de los S. Ray del E._ That made sense, of a kind. It was a list of names. Whose names they were, Malone didn't know; but at least he could see the list and understand it. What puzzled him were the decorations. Following each name was a queer-looking squiggle. Each was slightly different, and each bore some resemblance to a stick-figure, a geometrical figure or just a childish scrawl. The whole parade reminded Malone of pictures he had seen of Egyptian hieroglyphics. But the names didn't look Egyptian, and, anyhow, nobody used hieroglyphics any more--did they? Malone found himself thinking: _Now what does that mean?_ He looked across at the facing page. It contained a set of figures, all marked off in dollars and cents and all added up neatly. One of the additions ended with the eye-popping sum of $52,710.09, and Malone found that the sum made him slightly nervous. This was high-powered figuring. * * * * * On to page three, he told himself. Drawings again, both on that page and on the one facing it. Malone recognized an outboard motor, a store-front, a suit of clothing hanging neatly on a hanger, a motor scooter, a shotgun and an IBM Electrotyper. Whoever had done the work was a reasonably accurate artist, if untrained; the various items were easily recognizable and Malone could see a great deal of detail. That, of course, was fine. Only it made no more sense than the rest of the notebook. Malone riffled through a few more pages, trying to make sense of the contents. One page seemed to be a shopping list, with nothing more revealing on it than _bread, bacon, eggs (1/2 doz.), peaches (frz.), cigs., & ltr., fluid_. There was another list, farther on. This one said: _Hist. 2, Eng. 4, Math. 3, Span. 2. What for Elec.?_ That cast the first glow of light. Whoever owned the notebook was a student. Or a teacher, Malone thought; then, looking back at the handwriting, he decided that the owner of the notebook had to be in high school, certainly no farther along. He went on flipping pages. One of them said, in large black capitals: =_HE'S BLUFFING!_= A note passed in class? There was not any way of making sure.