"Tell me, what was it that caused my car to go out of control?" Lin asked suddenly. "I can tell you that," one of the doctors said. "The mechanic reported that your tierod, the rod that connects the front wheels together so they stay in line, had come off one of its moorings." "Oh." Lin said vaguely. He was beginning to feel strange. The memory of that interlude atop the mountain had come back. He was remembering that bit of paper he had snatched from the flames. But of course there was nothing in that.... "Are my things here?" he asked abruptly. "My billfold?" "Yes," the nurse said. "Your billfold is in the drawer here." "Get it," Lin said. She opened the drawer and brought out the billfold. "Open it and see if there's a folded piece of paper that's torn off on one corner," he demanded. He watched while she explored the contents. He recognized the texture of the paper as it came to view. "That's it!" he said tensely. "Give it to me!" He tried to lift an arm. He had to be content with taking it in his fingers while his elbows rested on the bed. With shaking fingers he opened it, and saw the typing that was so different from ordinary typing. His fingers no longer shook. He folded the sheet of paper and handed it back. "Don't put it back in my billfold," he said. "I want you to take that down to the hospital office and have them put it in an envelope and lock it in the safe. Do you understand? I want that taken care of as though it were worth a million dollars. I don't want anything to happen to it. Do you understand?" "Y-yes," she said. "I'll do that." Lin watched her leave the room, then turned with a grin to the doctors. "I'll live," he said confidently. "I'll live. Nothing can kill me now—so long as that sheet of paper remains intact." He didn't mind at all the way the two men looked at each other with lifted eyebrows. The door swished open. The nurse came in. "There's a man down in the waiting room who wants to see you, Mr. Grant," she said. "He gave his name as Hugo Fairchild."
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