"You're going to be in a worse way, you bastard." "Please, Jake...." Lennox pulled the telephone slips out of his pocket and shook them in Cooper's face. "Look at these. Look at them, you filthy Judas." "Jake ... I need a drink. I'm in a bad way." Cooper tried to get out of the chair. Lennox backhanded him across the jaw. Then, in his fury, he yanked him up and cuffed his face. When he let him go, Cooper collapsed. "So it was you writing them," Lennox shouted. "What's inside you? What in God's name did you have against me? Why couldn't you come out into the open instead of sticking a knife in my back and twisting it?" "The ... letters?" "Yes, the letters. The threats. The filth." Lennox thrust the slips before Cooper's face again. "I found these in your pocket. It's the same writing. Your disguised hand, yes? What are they, practice sheets?" "No," Cooper said faintly. "I ... Jake, I've got to tell you. You're writing them. You're writing those letters yourself. Not me. You." Lennox burst out laughing. "It's true, Jake. Those times when you get drunk and black out.... That's when you write yourself those letters. So help me, Jake. I've been trying to keep it from you, but--" "I thought we were friends," Lennox broke in fiercely. "I thought we were working together ... standing by each other ... backing each other up. I thought we were two sane men bucking the rat-race and beating them at their own game. I believed in us. I'd have killed myself to keep it from being destroyed. I should have killed you before you destroyed it. You're not sane. You're like all the rest of them ... sick, vicious, living on hate and poison." "For God's sake, Jake! Will you listen to me?" Cooper struggled up out of the chair and put his arm around Jake's shoulders. "You're the sick one. You're the one who's destroying everything. You--" Lennox twisted away from Cooper and looked at him with hatred. "You can think of more vicious ways to knife a man in the back than a fag. Why didn't you dress under the stage with the other queens? That's where you belong!" "Mr. Lennox," the doorman called in his deaf voice. "Man here for you. Mr. Fink or such." "Be right out," Lennox answered. He showed his teeth to Cooper. "Wait here. I've got a surprise for you." He ran out to the stagedoor foyer. Fink was standing there with his swarthy colleague, Salerno. "He's in the green room," Lennox said. "This way." "Just a minute," Fink smiled. "Who's in this green room?" "Guy who was writing the letters. You were right, Bob. It was Cooper. Sam Cooper who lives with me. Look at this." Lennox waved the telephone slips. "I found them in his pocket. It's the same writing. You see? You see, Mr. Salerno? Come on." "Oh Jesus," Salerno grunted. "Come out to the car a minute," Fink said. "What for?" "To talk." "What about?" "Tell you when we get there. Come on."