"Focus on the letters. Who's threatening you?"
"What?" Recalled from his visions, Sachs gazed at Lennox with faraway eyes.
"You're faking," Lennox said savagely. "And you're not kidding me with the act. These letters were written to you. You're the one who's putting the show on a spot."
"They're not written to me."
"I don't believe you."
"Isn't it obvious?" Sachs said wearily. "What's that line from Number Two? Yes. 'You fancy college cess-pool....' And so on. I'm no college man. That's why I've still got my talent. 'A set o' dull conceited hashes confuse their brains in college classes!' What are we going to do about Sunday?"
"I don't know," Lennox said in disgust, returning the photostats to his pocket. "I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. Amateur. I should have stayed out of the act. Maybe the police can do better."
"If I could whip you into coming up with something fresh, I'd throw out the Nolan. A different 'Monkey's Paw' or—That's an idea! Instead of three wishes, make it three New Year's resolutions."
"Lay off, will you. There's nothing wrong with the Philip Nolan."
"It isn't televisionwise, Jake."