"Break up the wooden Indian on the Flip." "I thought that was Judge Crater." "I thought it was Kris Kringle," Lennox said somberly, fingering his neck. Suddenly he asked: "Where's Mason? Dead?" "Went under the cellar. Came up the other side. Went back to his dressing room and doing very well I hear." Lennox grunted thrice in anguish. Cooper eyed him solemnly in the mirror. His face wore a permanent expression of perplexity. He was tall, compact, with strong hands, high cheekbones and deep-set narrow eyes. He had the well-scrubbed Princeton look, and as a matter of fact had been a big wheel in Triangle shows before he broke into television. He was a mediocre song-writer and a magnificent rehearsal pianist, which is a high art unappreciated outside the business. Cooper and Lennox had been close friends for over three years, and for the past ten months Sam had been sharing Lennox's apartment. When Lennox invited him, Sam had moved in his grand piano, seventeen copper pots, one hundred and thirteen record albums, a complete Hi-Fi sound system, two Siamese cats, and a mink-dyed skunk. He'd said: "Gosh, fellows, let's room together all through school." They were still together, despite the skunk. "Great God on echo!" Lennox said after a long pause, "I think I'm on my way to the booby hatch." "Oh? Why the hell did you go charging down there? For Mig?" "I was playing the scene." "Rover Boys to the rescue. Which were you? Fun-loving Tom?" "No. Noodnick Jake. And then I lost hold...." "On Mig?" "Myself. You saw me down there...." Lennox winced in shame. "Hysterical." "Maybe you're afraid of the dark." "I wish it were something nice and simple like that; but the cellar was just the pay-off on something worse. I.... When did you see me last?" "Yesterday. After rehearsal. You went out for a drink with Avery Borden," Cooper answered promptly. "I remember that. I remember the drinks. Then--I didn't sleep home last night?" "Not last night. No." "Christ, stand by me!" Lennox muttered. Cooper looked bewildered. "You've slept out before. Why the production? What plays?" "I've lost a day," Lennox said slowly. "I don't know where I was or what I was doing from nine last night to nine tonight." "Um. Loaded?" "Looks like." "Smells like. What were you drinking? Caveat Emptor Reserve?" "I've got a feeling that I did something dirty.... Something that's going to shock hell out of me if I ever find out.... Something as dark as that cellar. Maybe that's why I blew down there." "You're not the dirty type, Jake." "But I'm scared. I--You know those newsreels where they dynamite a smoke-stack?" "Yep. Always comes after the Miami water-skis. They play suspense-type music in two-four." "I feel like that moment just before everything collapses. But what blew up, Sam? What happened?" "You think something blew up between tonight and last night?" "I know it. That must be why I blacked out. I can remember ... I can remember a Quaker and a blonde...."