your　hands　so　you　could　save　your　brain　—　all　of　your　brain　—

for　your　evenings　writing。　Then　。。。　I　don't　know　just　when　。。。　the　place

began　to　seem　bad　for　you。　Spending　all　that　time　down　in　the　cellar；　sifting

through　those　old　papers；　all　that　old　history。　Talking　in　your　sleep　—　〃

〃In　my　sleep？〃　Jack　asked。　His　face　wore　a　cautious；　startled　expression。　〃I

talk　in　my　sleep？〃

〃Most　of　it　is　slurry。　Once　I　got　up　to　use　the　bathroom　and　you　were　saying；

'To　hell　with　it；　bring　in　the　slots　at　least；　no　one　will　know；　no　one　will

ever　know。'　Another　time　you　woke　me　right　up；　practically　yelling；　‘Unmask；

unmask；　unmask。〃'

〃Jesus　Christ；〃　he　said；　and　rubbed　a　hand　over　his　face。　He　looked　ill。

〃All　your　old　drinking　habits；　too。　Chewing　Excedrin。　Wiping　your　mouth　all

the　time。　Cranky　in　the　morning。　And　you　haven't　been　able　to　finish　the　play

yet；　have　you？〃

〃No。　Not　yet；　but　it's　only　a　matter　of　time。　I've　been　thinking　about

something　else　。。。　a　new　project　—　〃

〃This　hotel。　The　project　Al　Shockley　called　you　about。　The　one　he　wanted　you

to　drop。〃

〃How　do　you　know　about　that？〃　Jack　barked。　〃Were　you　listening　in？　You　—　〃

〃No；〃　she　said。　〃I　couldn't　have　listened　in　if　I'd　wanted　to；　and　you'd　know

that　if　you　were　thinking　straight。　Danny　and　I　were　downstairs　that　night。　The

switchboard　is　shut　down。　Our　phone　upstairs　was　the　only　one　in　the　hotel　that

was　working；　because　it's　patched　directly　into　the　outside　line。　You　told　me　so

yourself。〃

〃Then　how　could　you　know　what　Al　told　me？〃

〃Danny　told　me。　Danny　knew。　The　same　way　he　sometimes　knows　when　things　are

misplaced；　or　when　peo