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As we sat, Jerome Tabb raised his voice. “You’re a little early, Mr Wolfe.” He glanced at his wrist. “It’s the time agreed, I know, but we haven’t finished our discussion.”

“A sentry in the hall could have stopped us.” Wolfe was gruff. He always was when he had put his fanny on a chair seat that was too small. “If the discussion doesn’t concern me you can finish it after I leave. If it does concern me, proceed.”

A famous woman novelist tittered, and two men laughed. A famous dramatist said, “Let’s hear what he has to say. Why not?” A man raised his hand. “Mr President! As I said before, this is very irregular. We almost never admit outsiders to a council meeting, and I see no reason for making this an exception. The chairman of the Joint Committee on Plagiarism has reported and made a recommendation, and that should be the basis of our…” He finished his sentence, but I didn’t catch it because five or six other voices drowned him out.

Tabb tapped on a glass with a spoon, and the voices subsided. “Having Mr Wolfe here has been decided,” he said with authority. “I told you he had been invited, and a motion was made and seconded to admit him and hear him, and it carried by a voice vote. We won’t go into that again. And I don’t see how we can take a position based solely on the report and recommendation of the chairman of the joint committee. One reason we had to call this special meeting was that the three NAAD members of the committee don’t agree. They actively disagree. I’m going to ask Mr Wolfe to state his case, but first he ought to know in a general way how our discussion has gone. Now there shouldn’t be any interruptions. Mr Harvey, you first. Briefly.”