hed it away. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Horace Howard
Clarke, associate professor of Roman History at one of the universities
in the city."

I introduced myself and we shook hands. "Tell me," he said, "do you
believe New York can be conquered?"

One of those kind, I thought. And here I was with an hour to kill before
meeting my date. "Lots of people have taken it in," I started.

"I don't mean that kind. I mean physically invaded."

"Pretty big job, I'd think."

"Very simple." He dropped a small metal disk on the bar. "This could do
it--or at least help."

I picked up the metal disk. "Why, it's a subway token."

"_Almost_ a subway token," he said. "And therein lies the key to
conquest. That--and the green lights." I edged away from him. This I
didn't need! He leaned towards me. "If only I could convince someone,"
he said, his lips tight. "Perhaps you will believe me."

I got to my feet. "Sorry. But I've got a date."

"Please!" The voice was firm, all of a sudden. "It is vital!" I
hesitated and Jimmy came over, in case there was trouble.

"Well," I said, deciding to humor him, "if it won't take long."

"_Brevis esse laboro, obscurus fio._"

"Oh?"

"If I labor to be brief, I become obscure."

I sighed. A long-winded one. And in Latin, yet!

He motioned to Jimmy. "Let this gentleman have another drink,
bartender." He moved closer to me. "I will tell you what I know," he
said. "If you believe, perhaps you will be able to do something about
it. This much is certain. Very little time remains before disaster
strikes!"

* * * * *

It all began (he said) prosaically enough on the Tuesday of last week,
on the third floor of the Public Library at 42nd Street, in Room 315.
There, as you probably know, one may obtain books on most subjects by
filling out a slip, receiving an odd or even number, and retiring to
either the odd or even Reading Room, where your number will eventually
flash on a lighted board. At the time I was engrossed in a study of the
early life of Publilius Syrus and, I must admit, glanced only casually
at the card given me by the young man at the desk. I saw that it was 18
and proceeded into the Even room on the right for what I knew from past
experience would be a tedious wait.

Ah! Had I but paid more attention to the card handed me! But "_Ad
poenitendum properat, cito qui judicat_." "He makes speed to repentance
who judges hastily." The card which I