The dramatist squashed a cigarette in the tray, his fifth or sixth-I had lost count. “Very painful, this is,” he said. He was a tenor. “Nauseous. We opened on Broadway February 25th last year, and when I say we had a smash hit I’m merely giving the record like Mr Harvey. Around the middle of May the producer, Al Friend, got a letter from a man named Kenneth Rennert. The mixture as before. It said he had sent me an outline for a play in August 1956, entitled ‘A Bushel of Love,’ with a letter asking me to collaborate with him on writing it. He demanded a million dollars, which was a compliment. Friend turned the letter over to me, and my lawyer answered it, telling Rennert he was a liar, which he already knew. But my lawyer knew about the three cases you have just heard described, and he had me take precautions. He and I made a thorough search of my apartment on Sixty-fifth Street, every inch of it, and also my house in the country at Silvermine, Connecticut, and I made arrangements that would have made it tough for anybody trying to plant something at either place.”

Oshin lit a cigarette and missed the ashtray with the match. “That was wasted effort. As you may know, a playwright must have an agent. I had had one named Jack Sandier that I couldn’t get along with, and a month after A Barrel of Love opened I had quit him and got another one. One weekend in July, Sandier phoned me in the country and said he had found something in his office and would drive over from his place near Danbury to show it to me. He did. It was a typewritten six-page outline of a play in three acts by Kenneth Rennert, entitled ‘A Bushel of Love.’ Sandier said it had been found by his secretary when she was cleaning out an old file.”

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