"Quaker? Man from Philadelphia?" "Yes. A Quaker and a blonde and a knot." "Blond woman?" "I think so." "What kind of knot?" "What kind could there be?" "Dozens. The kind you tie, like hangman's knot. How fast a ship goes. A knot in wood. A knot in palmistry. A knot in--" "You're no help. I can't remember. Just a Quaker and a blonde and a knot. It's crazy. Why'm I shaking like this?" Lennox tried to control himself. His eyes burned with tears. "Look at me. Jake Lennox, leader of men, crying like a fag." "You know something," Cooper told him solemnly. "On you it's becoming. Makes you human." "Human!" Lennox burst out in contempt, grinding his eyes with his knuckles. "You need a bath and some food," Cooper said firmly. "Leave us go home. On your feet, Beaver Patrol. Watch it! You've got your hand in something." "Robust Juvenile No. 4," Lennox muttered, peering at the makeup jar. "Robust and juvenile men.... Forward!" They left the dressing room, turned out the lights and mounted the spiral staircase. A new work-light had been hung from the iron grid high above the stage. Mason's dressing room was open and an informal party was in progress, Mason had the dummy in one hand and a bottle in the other. He was going through a comedy routine while Grabinett, Ween, Irma and a dozen others shrieked with laughter. As Cooper and Lennox passed the door, the dummy cackled: "Ah! The Thinker and the poor man's Paderoosky. Merry Christmas, boys." Lennox pulled to a stop despite Cooper's urging. "Peace on earth, good will to all men," he answered savagely. "For five thousand dollars can you tell us what it means?" Grabinett, Ween and Mason glared at Lennox with hatred. He scowled back and then permitted Cooper to lead him to the stage door. As they plunged out into the sleet, he growled: "I'll fight." "Who?" "I don't know ... but I'll fight. I'll go down fighting, and I won't go down." CHAPTER III The Lennox apartment was on Knickerbocker Square which is one of scores of hidden relics of the past concealed on The Rock. There are elongated sycamore trees corseted with cement, a Greek cross of gravel paths, four square patches of grass, and a black and brass fence surrounding all. The houses facing the square are red stone Dutch style with copper roofs, bottle windows and glass orangeries in the rear. The old night lanterns and polished stone carriage posts are still standing. Lennox occupied a floor and a quarter in Number 33. You entered from the street into the kitchen, decorated with Cooper's cooking utensils and garish butcher charts he had charmed out of an influential meat-packer in Grosse Pointe. There was also a lunatic side-arm Oliver typewriter which he had charmed out of a Brooklyn druggist. It wrote in minims and other pharmaceutical symbols, and Cooper typed recipes on it. He once sent me one that read like Witch's Brew. Turned out to be Fruit Soup.