"Moralistic?"
"As a Puritan."
"This is me? This is the way you see me?"
"Yes."
He got up without another word and walked out. I don't know what staggered him most ... the realization that he was the man being threatened, or the picture of himself as other people saw him. But I was right about one thing. He was a lot worse off than when he started.
CHAPTER VII
It took Lennox eleven hours to struggle through the script for the January 15th "Who He?" show. He consumed one ream of paper, half a pound of coffee, two quarts of ice cream, and answered the phone a dozen times. All of the calls were for Cooper. They were from unknowns who appeared to be phoning from the vicinity of juke boxes and spoke in hoarse underground voices. They used a jargon that was incomprehensible to Lennox and they seemed to be torturing Cooper.
"They want material," he groaned.
"You've got a trunkful stashed away. Submit it."
"I can't. My old stuff stinks."