Midnight
He was led to the chair and he sat down in it as if he expected the worst to start happening at once . `` Well , '' Malone said in a bored , tired voice . `` So this is the one who wo n't talk . '' Midnight . Kenneth J. Malone sat at his desk , in his Washington office , surrounded by piles of papers covering the desk , spilling off onto the floor and decorating his lap . He was staring at the papers as if he expected them to leap up , dance round him and shout the solution to all his problems at him in trained choral voices . They did nothing at all .