Out came the portfolios, the briefcases, the pads and notes. Lennox took out his gimmick book and began turning the pages looking for the ideas underlined in red pencil, which were those earmarked for "Who He?." He had production numbers, drama spots, song spots, novelty questions and various related gimmicks neatly listed in his meticulous handwriting. At a distance one of his pages looked like a leaf from a Gothic bible. "I've got a tentative program worked out for the 22nd," Lennox said. "It's in the envelope with the finished script for the 15th, Ray. On your desk." Sachs handed the envelope to his wife who opened it and handed him Jake's program. Sachs read it, frowned, and shook his head. "No," he said. "No. It's all off-trail, Jake." "I was expecting that," Lennox growled. "And I'm just nervous enough about next Sunday to throw it in your teeth." The others looked up, startled at Jake's anger. "I've kept a record of our show discussions for the past thirteen weeks," he went on, flipping the pages of his gimmick book. "Ten out of those thirteen you started out rejecting every one of my suggestions and ended up suggesting them as your own idea. Why don't you relax, mastermind? Who are you auditioning for? Or do you want to think you're the only man on the show who can--" Suddenly Lennox stopped and stared at his gimmick book. His face turned white and the deep lines on it showed up grey. He swallowed once or twice, then closed the book and returned it to his pocket. "Excuse it, please. I've got to take five," he muttered. "I'll be in the john." He left the brain room and locked himself in the office john. He took out the gimmick book and with trembling fingers opened it and turned the pages until he found what he had seen at the meeting. In a large space between two neat paragraphs, a stranger had written a message to him in a familiar hysterical hand. The line was: "Be killing you New Year's. Knott." CHAPTER VIII A head-shrinker once explained to me that people confronted with a crisis act exactly like a J-walker about to be run down by a car. They do one of three things. Either they dodge back to the curb, or stand helpless, or turn on full steam and sprint ahead. Lennox was the third type. When the evidence in his gimmick book finally convinced him that he was next Sunday's victim, he refused to retreat or submit. He turned on full steam and sprinted toward disaster.