Зима тревоги нашей

           Areyoulookingforme?"Isawteethinthedimness—gleamingteethpickedoutbyourstreetlight.

           Thedoorsprangopenofitselfandalean,well-tailoredmansteppedout."I’mDunscombe,BrockandSchwin,televisionbranch.Ihavetotalktoyou."Helookedtowardthedriver."Nothere.Canwegoinside?"

           "Iguessso.Ithinkeveryone’sasleep.Ifyoutalkquietly..."

           Hefollowedmeupourwalkofflagstonessetinthespongylawn.Thenightlightwasburninginthehall.AswewentinIputthenarwhalstickintheelephant’sfoot.

           Iturnedonthereadinglightovermybigsprung-bottomedchair.

           Thehousewasquiet,butitseemedtomethewrongkindofquiet—anervousquiet.Iglancedupthestairwellatthebedroomdoorsabove.

           "Mustbeimportanttocomethislate."

           "Itis."

           Icouldseehimnow.Histeethwerehisambassadors,un-helpedbyhiswearybutwaryeyes.

           "Wewanttokeepthisprivate.It’sbeenabadyear,asyouwellknow.ThebottomfelloutwiththequizscandalsandthenthepayolafussandtheCongressionalcommittees.Wehavetowatcheverything.It’sadangeroustime."

           "Iwishyou’dtellmewhatyouwant."

           "You’vereadyourboy’sILoveAmericaessay?"

           "No,Ihaven’t.Hewantedtosurpriseme."

           "Hehas.Idon’tknowwhywedidn’tcatchit,butwedidn’t."Heheldoutafoldedbluecovertome."Readtheunderlining."

           Isankintomychairandopenedit.