Nim was silent, waiting.

It was Wednesday morning, in the first week of March, six days after the trauma at the Christopher Columbus Hotel. Both men were in Nim's office, with the door closed for privacy.

"Well," London said, "so now you show me this, and to tell the truth, I wish you hadn't. Because the way I see it, what else is there left to believe in anymore?"

"Plenty," Nim answered. "A lot to care about and plenty to believe in.

Not anymore, though, the integrity of Mr. Justice Yale."

"Here, take these." Harry London handed the papers back.

They comprised a batch of correspondence-eight letters, some with copies of enclosures attached, and all were from the files of the late Walter Talbot, until his death last July, chief engineer of GSP & L. The three cardboard cartons from which the letters had been taken were open in Nim's office, their other contents spread around.

Locating the letters, which Nim suddenly recalled to mind at the NEI convention, had been delayed because of last week's tragedy and aftermath. Earlier today, Nim had had the files brought up from a basement storage vault. Even then it had taken him more than an hour to find the particular papers he sought-those he remembered glancing at seven months ago, the day at Ardythe's house when she gave him the cartons for safekeeping.

But he had found them. His memory had been right.

And now the letters must inevitably be used as the corpus delicti at a confrontation.

Exactly two weeks earlier, at the meeting between J. Eric Humphrey, Nim, Harry London and justice Paul Sherman Yale on the subject of power stealing, the former Supreme Court justice had stated unequivocally, ".. . I find the entire concept of power theft interesting. Frankly, I had no idea such a thing existed. I have never heard of it before. Nor did I know there were such people in the public utility business as Mr. London."

The correspondence Nim had found showed all four statements to be deceitful and untrue.

It was, in the oft-used phrase of Watergate, "the smoking gun."

"Of course," London said abruptly, "we'll never know for sure whether the old man gave his approval to the power thievery by the Yale Trust, or even if he knew about it and did nothing. All we can prove is that he's a liar."

"And was worried as hell," Nim said. "Otherwise he would never have trapped himself by those statements."

The facts of the matter were simple.

Walter Talbot had been a pioneer in drawing attention to huge financial losses incurred by electric and gas utilities as a result of theft. He had written articles on the subject, made speeches, been interviewed by news media, and had appeared as an expert witness in a New York State criminal trial which wended its way, via appeals, through higher courts. The case had generated wide interest. Also correspondence.

Some of the correspondence had been with a member of the United States Supreme Court.

Justice Paul Sherman Yale.

It was clear from the exchange that Walter Talbot and Paul Yale had known each other well during earlier years in California.

The first letter was on a distinguished letterhead.

Supreme Court of the United States Washington, D.C. 20543 It began: My dear Walter.

The writer expressed his interest, as a legal scholar, in a burgeoning new field of law enforcement, namely, that related to the stealing of electricity and gas. He asked for more details of the types of offenses intervened and methods being used to combat them. Also requested were any known facts about prosecutions, and their outcomes, in various parts of the country. The letter inquired after the health of Ardythe and was signed "Paul."

Walter Talbot, with a sense of decorum, had replied more formally: My dear justice Yale.

His letter was four pages long. Accompanying it was a photocopy of one of Walter's published articles.

Several weeks later Paul Yale wrote again. He acknowledged the letter and article and posed several pertinent questions which demonstrated he had read the material carefully.

The correspondence continued through five more letters, spaced over eight months. In one of them Walter Talbot described the function of the Property Protection Department in a typical public utility, and the duties of an individual heading it-such as Harry London.

Not surprisingly, the letters pointed up the sharp, inquiring mind, the lively interest in everything, of Paul Sherman Yale.

And the entire correspondence had taken place only two years before Mr. Justice Yale's retirement from the bench. Could Paul Yale possibly have forgotten? Nim had already asked himself that question and decided the answer was an emphatic "no". Tbe old man had demonstrated, too many times, his remarkable memory-both for large issues and for detail-to make that believable.

It was Harry London who raised the key issue Nim had been debating. "Why did the old boy do it? Why did he lie to us the way he did?"

"Probably," Nim said thoughtfully, "because he knew Walter was dead, and because the chance of any of the three of us-the chairman, you, me-knowing about that correspondence was remote. In fact, it must have been obvious that we didn't. Also, the odds on those letters ever surfacing were a million to one against."

London nodded his agreement, then said, "The next question, I reckon, is: How many other times has the Honorable Paul done the same thing and gotten away with it?"

"We'll never know, will we?"

The Property Protection chief motioned to the letters. "Of course, you'll show these to the chairman."

"Yes, this afternoon. I happen to know Mr. Yale is coming in later today."

"Which brings up something else." Harry London's voice was bitter. "Will we go on trying as hard as we have to keep that precious Yale name out of those court proceedings which are coming up? Or, in view of this new information, will 'Mr. Integrity' take his chances like anybody else?"

"I don't know." Nim sighed. "I simply don't know. And, in any case, it won't be my decision."

The showdown with Mr. Justice Yale occurred shortly after 4 pm in the chairman's office suite.

When Nim arrived, having been summoned by J. Eric Humphrey's secretary, it was obvious that tension already existed. The chairman's expression could best be described, Nim thought, as "wounded old Bostonian." Humphrey's eyes were cold, his mouth tightly set. Paul Yale, while unaware of precisely what was afoot, clearly shared the knowledge that it was something disagreeable and his normal cheerfulness had been replaced by a frown. The two were seated at a table in the conference area and neither man was speaking when Nim joined them.

Nim took the chair on Eric Humphrey's left, facing Mr. Justice Yale. He placed on the table before him the file containing the Talbot-Yale correspondence.

Earlier, Eric Humphrey and Nim, after some debate, had agreed on the sequence of procedure. They also decided that Harry London need not, this time, be included.

"Paul," Humphrey began, "on the previous occasion when the three of us were together, we had a discussion about certain problems of power stealing. In part, they intervened the Yale Family Trust. I'm sure that you remember."

Mr. Justice Yale nodded. "Yes, of course."

"At that time you made a number of statements. All were to the effect that you had no idea, prior to that moment, that such a thing as power theft existed."

"Now stop this!" Paul Yale's face flushed angrily. "I do not like your tone or attitude, Eric. Nor am I here to be questioned about what I may, or may not, have said .

Humphrey's voice cut acidly across the protest. "There is no 'may' about it. What you told us was precise and unambiguous. Moreover, it was repeated several times. I remember it that way. So does Nim."

It was plain to Nim that Paul Yale's mind was working at high speed. The old man said sternly, "Whatever was said, it does not follow from it . . ."

"Nim," the chairman ordered, "show Mr. Yale the contents of our file."

Opening the folder, Nim slid the small pile of letters and attachments across the table. The earliest dated letter-on Supreme Court stationery-was on top.

Paul Yale picked it up, glanced at it, then dropped it hastily. He did not bother with the others. His face, which had been flushed before, suffused an even deeper red.

Afterward, replaying the scene in his mind, Nim guessed that while Yale expected some kind of unfavorable revelation, the possibility of being confronted with his old correspondence had not occurred to him. If Nim's conjecture was true, it would explain the old man's abject, total shock.

His tongue moistened his lips. He seemed unable to find the words he wanted.

Then be said awkwardly, defensively, "Sometimes, especially in Washington. . . with so much happening, so many papers, the unending correspondence. . . one forgets . . ." the statement trailed off. Obviously it sounded as false and unconvincing to Mr. Justice Yale as it did to the other two. Strike that," he said abruptly, and stood up. Pushing back his chair, he walked away from the table and, without looking at Nim or Humphrey, asked, "Please give me a moment to collect my thoughts."

Briefly the old man paced the chairman's broadloom. Then he turned, though continuing to stand.

"It is plain, gentlemen, as only documentary evidence can make it, that I have been guilty of deception and-no doubt deservedly-been caught."

Paul Yale's voice was lower than normal-, his face reflected pain as he continued. "I will not compound my error by explanations or excuses, either by describing my considerable anxiety at the time of our earlier talk, or my urgent and natural desire to protect my good name."

Just the same, Nim thought, you've managed to do both while sayin- that you wouldn't.

I will, however," Yale went on, "swear to you that I neither participated in power theft by the Yale Family Trust, nor had any knowledge of it prior to our first discussion here."

Eric Humphrey, who, Nim remembered, had been eager to accept Paul Yale's word before, remained silent. Probably the chairman was thinking, as was Nim, that anyone who would lie once to protect his reputation would lie again for the same reason.

Inevitably, Nim was reminded of Harry London's question: "How many other times has the Honorable Paul done the same thing and gotten away with it?"

As the silence hung, the pain in the old man's eyes deepened.

"Nim," Eric Humphrey said quietly, "I don't believe it's necessary for you to stay any longer."

With relieif, Nim gathered up the papers on the table and returned them to the file while the other two watched. Taking the file with him, and with no further word spoken, Nim left.

He did not know it then, but it was the last time he would ever meet Mr. Justice Yale.

Nim never learned what else transpired in the chairman's office that day.

He didn't ask, nor did Eric Humphrey volunteer the information. But the end result was revealed the next morning.

At 11 am Humphrey sent for Nim and Teresa Van Buren. Seated at his desk, and holding a letter, he informed them, "I have received the resignation of justice Paul Sherman Yale as our public spokesman and a director of this company. The resignation has been accepted with regret. I would like an announcement made immediately to that effect."

Van Buren told him, "We should state some reason, Eric."

"Ill health." Humphrey referred to the letter in his band. "Mr. Yale's doctors have advised him that, at his age, the strain of his new duties at GSP & L has proven too -arduous. They have advised him to discontinue them."

"No problem," the PR director said. "I'll have it on the wires this afternoon. I have another question, though."

"Yes?"

"That leaves us without a spokesman for the company. Who takes over?"

For the first time the chairman smiled. "I'm too busy to search for someone else, Tess, so I suppose there's no alternative. Put the saddle back on Nim."

"Hallelujah!" Van Buren said. "You know the way I feel. It should never have been taken off."

Outside the chairman's office Teresa Van Buren lowered her voice, "Nim, give me the straight dope behind this Yale thing. What went wrong? You know I'll find out sooner or later."

Nim shook his bead. "You heard the chairman, Tess. Failing health."

"You bastard!" she shot at him. "For that, I may not put you on TV until next week."

Harry London read the published report of Paul Yale's departure and came to Nim the next day.

"If I had any guts," he declared, "I'd resign in disgust at that fiction about ill health and acceptance with regret. It makes all of us liars, just the way he is."

Nim, who had not slept well, said irritably, "So go ahead-resign."

"I can't afford to."

"Then knock off the holier-than-thou crap, Harry. You said yourself there's no way we could prove Mr. Yale was into power theft personally."

London said dourly, "He was, though. The more I think about it, the more I believe it."

"Don't forget," Nim pointed out, "that Ian Norris, who ran the Yale Family Trust, swore he wasn't."

"Yes, and the whole thing smells like a deal. Norris will get his payoff in some way later-maybe by staying on as trustee. Besides, Norris wouldn't have gained anything himself by involving the great man."

"Whatever we think, or don't," Nim said. "it's over and finished. So get back to work and catch more power thieves."

"I already have. There's a bunch of new cases, as well as others developing from the Quayle inquiry. But Nim, I'll tell you one thing for the future."

Nim sighed. "Go ahead."

"We've been part of a cover-up, you and me; a cover-up to protect that high-and-mighty Yale name. It goes to show there are still special rules and laws for those with pull and power."

"Look, Harry . . ."

"No, hear me out! What I'm doing, Nim, is serving notice that if I have clear evidence in any case in the future, no matter who it is, no one is going to stop me from bringing it out in the open and doing what has to be done."

"Okay, okay," Nim said. "If there's clear evidence, I'll fight it with you. And now we've settled that, please go, and let me get some work done."

When he was alone, Nim regretted having vented his had humor on Harry London. Most of what London had said, about the resignation statement being a lie and part of a cover-up, had already occurred to Nim, and troubled him last night, when he slept only fitfully. Were there degrees of lying? Nim didn't believe so. As he saw it, a lie was a lie. Period. In which case, wasn't GSP & L-in the persons of Eric Humphrey, who authorized a public falsehood, and Nim, who endorsed it by his silence-equally culpable as Paul Sherman Yale?

There could be only one answer: Yes.

He was still thinking about it when his secretary, Vicki Davis, buzzed and told him, "The chairman would like to see you immediately."