"That's bad enough, but there's something worse. We've been getting letters. Threatening letters. The filthiest crazy letters you ever saw in your life. Five already. Blinky tells me there's a sixth up at the office ... more dangerous than the rest. If I don't do something about those letters, we may go off; but so help me, Sam, I'm so mixed up I don't know what to do." "Told anybody about them yet?" "No." "The network?" "How can I? All they have to do is smell trouble ... particularly dirty trouble like this ... and they'll yank us off. They've got a dozen clients hungry for that nine to nine-thirty spot. They've got nothing to lose." "Um. Dangerous letters?" "Filthy dangerous." "That means trouble if you stay on?" "Probably." "What kind?" "I don't know. It's an audience show. Suppose we let a lunatic in one Sunday night. You draw the pictures. Anything could happen." "Police?" "I'm afraid to go to the police." "Why?" "That turns it from a private stink into an official stink. That's why Blinky and I've been keeping it quiet. If the story gets out we'll be cancelled." "Not positively." "I won't take the chance." "Why not? So you're cancelled. Is that the end of the world?" "I won't be cancelled," Lennox said grimly. "No, I guess not. You won't let anything be cancelled, will you, Jake?" "Nobody's going to end anything for me except me." "And you won't ever end anything." "Why should I?" Lennox exclaimed impatiently. "I like what I've got. I'm thirty-five, Sam. I've come a hell of a long way from a kid telegrapher counting words in Islip, Long Island. What kind of a chicken-gut would I be to let it fall apart?" "This I don't follow," Cooper said plaintively. "You mean the end of 'Who He?' is the end of everything? Exit Jordan Lennox, homeless, friendless, trudging back to that clam-shack in Islip, a broken man...." "For God's sake, will you level with me! I've had a hell of a day and I don't feel like yakking it up. Who am I fighting, Sam? How am I going to fight? Jesus Christ on camera!" Lennox pointed again to the struggling hat. "I'm like that amateur tiger ... banging my brains out against nothing." Cooper looked at the bounding hat, then back at Lennox. "Exactly like that," he said softly. "The cat's doing it for kicks. So are you." "For kicks!" "Yep." "That's a lousy thing to say." "Why? It's a compliment. Everybody says you've got deep freeze inside you. I know better. This is proof you've got emotions, Jake. Trouble is you only let 'em out of hock once a year, so you have to turn it into a production to make up for lost time." "Who's making a production? We've got a law suit coming. We've got a lunatic knocking on the door. I've got a blank day full of memories I don't want to remember hanging over me. I've got emotions. What do you want me to do? Whistle 'Dixie'?"