Driscoll and Link stepped into a dimly lit living room. It was neat and heavy with the sweet smell of flowers. They sat down on a couch and waited quietly. Then a young, handsome man in his middle twenties came in.

“I’m Preston Haller,” he said. “Dad says you wanted to see me.”

Driscoll proffered his hand. “We’re reporters, Mr. Haller,” he said. “We’re doing a story on Adam Cramer. Maybe you’ll help us.”

The young man’s expression grew suddenly hard.

“He’s a friend of yours, isn’t he?” Driscoll asked.

“Who told you that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Preston Haller walked over to the window and stood there for a time. “It used to be true,” he said finally.

“Then I suppose you’ve read about his activities.”

“Yes, I’ve read about them.”

There was a silence. “Mr. Haller, Adam Cramer is a pretty big news item these days. We’re trying to do a story on him, but we’re not going to be able to unless you give us a hand. You can see why, can’t you?”

“I think so. Because I’m colored.”

“Because you’re colored and because you were close to him. If the two of you are friends and he’s out to stop integration, well—there are quite a few questions to be answered.”

Preston Haller smiled, but without amusement. “I’m afraid I can’t be of much assistance to you. I don’t know the answers to those questions.”

“But you do know Cramer well?”

“No. I thought I did, once; but I was wrong. So were a lot of other people.”

“Will you tell us about it?”

“About what? I could only tell you what he was, mister, or what I, anyway, thought he was. That fellow in the South—he doesn’t know me and I don’t know him.”

Driscoll shrugged. “Frankly, Mr. Haller,” he said, “I don’t believe you. I think you’re telling us this because you know what we can do with your story, and you don’t want to see that done to your friend—no matter how he’s behaved. Of course, I may be wrong. We can’t force you to talk, in any case. But I’d like to submit something to you. May I?”

Preston Haller said nothing.

“If you tell us your story—and it’s a long one; we picked that much up from the kids at the university; some of them remembered—Adam Cramer will get hurt. It may not stop him, but it’ll slow him up. If, on the other hand, you decide to respect the friendship that you had with him and refuse to tell the story, a lot of people are going to get hurt. More than you can imagine, maybe. The choice is yours.”

Preston Haller rubbed his forehead, walked to the large couch and sat down.