d if he'd received one. After all,
there couldn't be too many Knights of the Bath. There was no sense in
letting _everybody_ in.

Then he realized that he was beginning to believe everything again.
There had been times, working with the little old lady, when he had
been firmly convinced that he was, in fact, the swaggering, ruthless
swordsman, Sir Kenneth Malone. And even now...

"Well?" Lynch said.

"It's too long a story," Malone said. "And besides, it's not what I
came here about."

Lynch shrugged again. "Okay," he said. "Tell it your way."

"First," Malone said, "what's your job?"

"Me? Precinct Lieutenant."

"Of this precinct?"

Lynch stared. "What else?" he said.

"Who knows?" Malone said. He found the black notebook and passed it
across to Lynch. "I'm on this red Cadillac business, you know," he
said by way of introduction.

"I've been hearing about it," Lynch said. He picked up the notebook
without opening it and held it like a ticking bomb. "And I mean
hearing about it," he said. "We haven't had any trouble at all in this
precinct."

"I know," Malone said. "I've read the reports."

"Listen, not a single red Cadillac has been stolen from here, or been
reported found here. We run a tight precinct here, and let me tell
you--"

"I'm sure you do a fine job," Malone said hastily. "But I want you to
look at the notebook. The first page."

Lynch opened his mouth, closed it, and then flipped the notebook
cover. He stared at the first page for a few seconds. "What's this?"
he said at last. "Another gag?"

"No gag, Lieutenant," Malone said.

"It's your name and mine," Lynch said. "What is that supposed to
mean?"

Malone shrugged. "Search me," he said. "The notebook was found only a
couple of feet away from another car theft, last night." That was the
simplest way he could think of to put it. "So I asked the Commissioner
who Peter Lynch was, and he told me it was you."

"And, by God, it is," Lynch said, staring at the notebook. He seemed
to be expecting it to rise and strike him.

Malone said, "Have you got any idea who'd be writing about you and
me?"

Lynch shook his head. "If I had any ideas I'd feel a lot better," he
said.

He wet his finger and turned the notebook page carefully over. When he
saw the list of names on the second page he stopped again, and stared.
This time he whistled under his breath.

Very cautiously, Malone said, "Something?"

"I'll be damned," Lynch said feelingly.