"That's fine," said Sutton, grinning. "I could do with a spot of hunting."
"You won't be doing any hunting," said a voice behind them. Sutton swung around. Herkimer stood in the hatch that led to the pilot's shell.
"You're going to write a book," said Eva, softly. "Surely you know about the book. The one the Revisionists…"
"Yes," Sutton told her. "I know about the book…"
He stopped, remembering, and his hand went involuntarily to feel of his breast pocket. The book was there, all right, and something that crinkled when he touched it. He remembered that, too. The letter…the incredibly old letter that John H. Sutton had forgotten to open six thousand years before.
"About the book," said Sutton, and then he stopped again, for he was going to say they needn't bother about writing the book, for he already had a copy. But something stopped him, for he wasn't certain that it was smart just then to let them know about the book he had.
"I brought along the case," said Herkimer. "The manuscript's all there. I checked through it."
"And plenty of paper?" asked Sutton, mocking him.
"And plenty of paper."
Eva Armour leaned toward Sutton, so close that he could smell the fragrance of her copper hair.