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an air of timelessness. He might have been thirty, or forty, or even older. No one exactly knew. Nor did they know where he had come from. They only knew where he was going—to the top. He had tended, in recent seasons, to be more and more controversial, attracting political figures, smalltime fascists, black nationalists and the like. They got a little kidding from Skinny, but generally they accepted it. It was exposure to them, and exposure was what they usually wanted.
    “Glad to meet you again, Skinny,” Barney said, extending his hand. The bearded man accepted it.
    “Just who I wanted to see! You know, I was up here talking to Harry about a show I want to do over the weekend. I know I should have planned it sooner, but a panel I had for Sunday night sort of fizzled out. I’m looking for something to replace them and it occurred to me that with your dinner tonight, you probably have a lot of mystery writers in town. I could get together a show …”
    Barney interrupted. “Sunday night—it’s a little bad. A lot of people will be leaving Sunday morning for home. You see, the dinner’s tonight and we have a cocktail party at MWA headquarters tomorrow night, but after that the festivities are pretty much over.”
    Skinny Simon nodded. “Barney, I still think it’s a good idea if we can swing it. I was talking to Harry, here, and he’s agreed to come on the programme. I’d like to get five writers in all. One or two big names—maybe Rex Stout or half of Ellery Queen.”
    Barney raised a hand. “Those people would be pretty tough to get for an all-night show. They don’t need the publicity, and those things are sort of wearing after the first few hours.”
    “You could try, couldn’t you, Barney? Tell them it’s for the good of the organisation.”
    “I could try,” Barney agreed.
    Skinny took out a little pocket notebook covered in tan morocco leather and began jotting down names. “All right, I’ve got Harry Fox for sure. Then let’s figure a big name like Stout or Queen. Who else is around?”
    “Mike Avallone, perhaps,” Barney suggested. “Jean Potts? She’s a nice gal. Give you a little feminine interest, if she’ll go for it.”
    “How about this year’s award winners? That would be timely.”
    Barney thought of Max Winters. “Well it’s a possibility. I don’t want to mention any names yet, but I can talk to them at the dinner tonight and see if they’d be interested.”
    “See what you can do,” Skinny said.
    “You want five?”
    “I’d settle for four. I’d like five. It would be Sunday night. The show starts at midnight—runs till five in the morning. We take a break, have a little food in the middle. See what you can do, huh?”
    They shook hands again and Skinny Simon departed, with a wave to Harry.
    “He’s not a bad guy,” Fox said, when they were alone. “Comes on pretty strong, but he’s certainly made a name for himself around town.”
    Barney nodded. “They need an expert like you on that show. You could rattle off some history and really impress the listeners.”
    “I’ll try,” Harry said.
    “Whose table are you sitting at tonight?”
    “Golly, I don’t know. I always like to get close to Betty Rafferty, but she’ll probably be up on the podium.”
    Barney nodded. Betty was a fairly good-looking gal and added a bit of glamour to the proceedings. “I’ll check the list when I get back to the office and see where they put you.”
    He was just leaving when Harry came up with a thought. “You know—for Skinny’s radio show, why don’t we get an agent or an editor? We shouldn’t confine it just to authors.”
    “Not a bad idea. I’ll give it some thought.”
    It was a busy day for Barney, and he called MWA headquarters to see how things were going there. Betty told him that most of the out-of-town members had arrived now and a few had drifted down to the Biltmore for the craft session. Barney remembered it was to be a discussion of agents and