eyes. His look of disgust partially sobered Lee. "Now wait a minute," Lee mumbled. After all, a man never lost all his pride.

He was drawing away, instinctively seeking shadows, when the doorman's eyes shifted to the plump man. They cleared instantly. He saluted, bowed, said "Good evening, Mr. Clifford."

"Good evening, John. We need a snifter or two of your excellent scotch."

"Certainly, sir." The doorman opened the portal as though the Secretary of State were honoring the Lotus Room with his presence.

Lee was busy marveling as they crossed the hotel lobby, brushing close to hastily drawn-back mink coats and formal clothes. It was certainly time for the bouncer to appear. But the hostess at the door of the Lotus Room—a blonde dream wearing something that resembled a pink cloud—gave the plump man a look Lee felt should have been reserved only for God.

"Mr. Clifford! What table would you like?"

Mr. Clifford smiled. "Good evening, my dear." He turned to Lee. "Mr. Hayden, this is Daphne—Mr. Lee Hayden, my dear."

Her eyes turned obediently to Lee and he was sober enough to note the complete absence of revulsion; only pity in her friendly, open gaze. He thanked her silently and thought: Even a bum like me still has a little pride and sensitivity left.

But a bum hides it behind grossness. Lee growled, "You got any decent liquor in this snob-joint?"

Snob-joint! Not so long ago he felt entirely at home in such places. Not so long ago? Huh! A thousand years or so.

Mr. Clifford said, "A quiet place, Daphne. Mr. Hayden and I want to talk."

"Hell with that noise. We wanna drink."

As they crossed the room, a man in formal clothes, obviously the manager, stepped aside and bowed deferentially to Mr. Clifford. The latter nodded pleasantly and eased Lee into a chair at a snowy table. The waiter was there instantly. Lee remained silent while Mr. Clifford ordered scotch. Then he could hold it in no longer.

"All right—what the hell is all this?"

Mr. Clifford smiled easily. "You need a drink. Here we are."

"But why here—in this plush joint?"

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