There was a light on in the publishing office. He rapped on the door. “Adams, my boy! I did not expect to see you so soon.” Davis led him into the office and pointed to a scarred leather chair. “You must have come with something.” “I have.” Stephen pulled the bundle from his pocket and handed it over. Much later Davis laid the final page on his desk and tapped the papers as though stroking a pet kitten. Stephen stood. The ticking of the huge wall clock made him jittery. “I have to return these as soon as possible.” He stuck out his arm and frantically wriggled his hand. “What’s the hurry? I’ll guard them with my life.” Davis grinned wide, his mouth absent of the usual cigar. “I . . . um . . . I have to ask her first.” Davis’s mouth dropped open. “Huh? You telling me she doesn’t know you brought them to me?”