Mr. Cooper in eight-eighteen. Go ahead and deliver it.”
Barney had a sensation of peculiar heaviness in the knees as he walked stiffly to the door. (“They said I was to see that you got it, this time.”) Outside, he paused to close the door with unnecessary gentleness and make sure that the corridor was empty. (“It ’s a repeat.”) Where was 818? He saw 819 across the hall to his left. He put a finger down the back of his neck, and eased his collar. He cleared his throat of nervousness. He walked boldly to 818, raised his small knuckles to a panel, and knocked.
There was no answer. He had put up his hand to knock again, when the door opened and a tall man in slippers and bathrobe asked, “Well?”
“A telegram for Mr. Cooper,” Barney said steadily. “They tol’ me to see that he got it, this time. It ’s a repeat.”
Cooper stood back. “Come in.” His voice was pitched low. “What did you say?”
