"I don't think there's any Knott, Sam. Neither do you." "What makes you think that?" "The way you're behaving now." Cooper turned around. The corner of his mouth was ticking. "Hell!" he burst out. "What's the sense of pussy-footing? He's writing those letters, Gabby. I know that." "How long have you known?" "Since last week when he showed me the photostats." Cooper loped into his bedroom and came out a moment later with three paper slips from a telephone pad. He handed them to Gabby. They were covered with the same hysterical scrawl, matching the writing on the latest letter. "He has an unconscious habit," Cooper explained. "He scribbles with his left hand when he's extra nervous. While he's talking on the phone. When he's reading. It's almost like automatic writing. He doesn't do it all the time ... just occasionally, but you can't miss it. The minute I saw those photostats, I knew." "Does he know?" Gabby asked. "No. That's what makes it hell." "We can't let him find out, Sam." "Maybe he ought to know." "Maybe later, but not now. It would be disastrous for him. We've got to protect him." Cooper jammed the phone slips into his jacket pocket and fretted around the room. "I tried to warn you. At that crazy cocktail party Thursday. If I hadn't been so paralyzed myself I might have--Christ! What a mess!" "What are we going to do?" "I don't know. He had to call in the police, yet." "Will they find out?" "I don't know." "What would they do if they did?" "Send him down to City Hospital for observation. Maybe worse. I--Jesus! What a mess!" "You mean an asylum?" "Yes." "Then we'll have to keep it from the police too. We'd better destroy this letter." "It's against the law. That letter's evidence." "Then we'll be accessories?" "Yes." "Burn it," Gabby said. She spoke with such decision that Cooper took the envelope, placed it in the practical fireplace and touched a match to the corner. The flame ran along the edge and then curled slowly across the face. The letter crackled and gaped. "Put it out!" Gabby cried so abruptly that Cooper started. She ran past him and beat the flame out with her hands and purse. Then she picked up the charred envelope and opened it. It was empty. "What happened to the letter?" Gabby asked. Cooper made a feeble gesture. "I can't keep up with this. I--Maybe he didn't write the letter. Just the envelope. Maybe he--Was it last night? He was probably plastered. For God's sake, who can figure anything Jake does sober, let alone drunk? I tell you, I'm lost in this. I'm nowhere." "Isn't there anything we can do?" "Get him off The Rock. Send him somewhere. Get him out of here." "Is that the only answer?" "It's the only one I can come up with." "Did you try?" "Try? What?" "To make him go away last week? You tried to make me go away." "No, I couldn't. I--" "Why couldn't you?" "I don't know. Quit hounding me, Gabby. I've got troubles of my own." Gabby's face darkened. "He's your friend, Sam."