"What page?" Julia asked intently.
The F.B.I. man took his pipe out of his mouth and looked at it. "Page one hundred and fifteen," he said.
The book fell open to that page.
The F.B.I. man plucked it out of the air. He felt all around it. He put it in his lap. His eyelids were no longer weary.
"I think I underestimated you," he said. "I believe I'm going to sit right here and take down every word you say." He gestured with his pipe. "Start talking."
Julia spoke slowly. She gave the F.B.I. man all the information she had. His pen skimmed rapidly, making short hand squiggles over the white pages of his notebook.
When she had finished, he looked up. He tossed the law book toward the desk. She caught it and let it down gently, so that it landed without a sound.
"Julia," the man said, "put yourself in my position. What would you do if someone came to you with a story like this?"
"I'd send that person to Washington, where she could talk to somebody."