"Lay there and bleed, long-hair. This is great. Can I shake the hand that shook the hand of Irving B. Cooper, author of 'We're The Most' and countless other hit tunes which their names are legion?" Lennox pumped Cooper's limp hand and dragged him into the living room. "This needs a drink. We'll all have a drink, by God. Bring out the skunk." He filled glasses and thrust one into Cooper's fist. "We'll plug it on the show. Maybe we can get Mason to use it for his theme. Tell me about last night. Why the hell didn't you say _Le Jazz Hot_ was your publish--" Lennox did a take. "Hold the phone. You mean you were supposed to meet him at Alice McVeagh's party? It was a business date?" "Well...." Cooper began. "And you were supposed to go down for the interview afterwards. Yes or no?" "Not exactly, Jake...." "But you didn't tell me. No. You let me bellyache and offered to go looking for the gimmick book, and you would have too, you liar. You'd have given up the interview, you perjurer. Wouldn't you?" Cooper was flustered. "How about the book? Did you locate it?" "All taken care of. I figured out the Quaker and the blonde. I'll tell you later." "What about the knot?" Lennox flinched. "That's still hanging over me. I haven't remembered everything yet." He swallowed and tried to regain his enthusiasm. "To hell with it. Kit went down and rescued the book. Here it is. Now let's have your story." He pulled out his notebook to display it. The photostats came out with it and scattered on the floor. Cooper looked down at the white writing on the black background. "What's this?" "The letters we've been getting. To hell with them too. I want to hear about you." As Lennox picked up the photostats, Cooper took one and examined it curiously. "Forget the letters, Sam. I've worried enough today. Let me have a few jollies. How much money are you going to make? Will you hit the jukeboxes?" "I've seen this writing before," Cooper said. Lennox froze. "What?" "I've seen this handwriting before." "Sure?" "Positive." "Don't put me on, Sam. This is serious." "I am serious." "Where did you see the writing?" "I can't remember." "Whose is it?" "I don't know." "Sam. For God's sake! Everything hangs on this. You--" "Shut up a minute." Lennox sat down slowly and chafed while Cooper studied the photostats. Finally Cooper looked up and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jake. I know I've seen it before, but that's all I can remember. It's like you and the knot. We're both stuck." "Holy Mother on Mike!" Lennox surged up from his chair and paced the room furiously. He noticed the drink in his hand and hurled it into the fireplace. As it smashed, he turned to Cooper. "But you'll remember, won't you?" he said. "We've got six days to Sunday. You'll remember." "I'll try." "And you'll do it. We'll lick it, won't we, Sam? We'll both fight it, and we'll come out on top Sunday."