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