ay into a gigantic pot during a Washington poker game,
with only a pair of fours to work with. At the last moment, his bluff
had been called.

It had, he realized, been called again. _The Hot Seat_ had set some
sort of record, not only for Broadway longevity, but for audience
frenzy. Getting tickets for it was about the same kind of proposition
as buying grass on the moon, and getting them with absolutely no prior
notice would require all the wire-pulling Malone could manage. He
thought about _The Hot Seat_ and wished Dorothy had picked something
easy, like arranging for her to meet the Senate.

But he swallowed bravely. "I'll do my best," he said. "Got any second
choice?"

"Sure," she said, and laughed. "Pick any one you want. I haven't seen
them all, and the ones I have seen are worth seeing again."

"Oh," Malone said.

"I really didn't expect you to get tickets for _The Hot Seat_," she
said.

"Nothing," Malone said, "is impossible." He grinned at her.
"Meanwhile, where can I pick you up? Your home?"

Dorothy frowned and shook her head. "No," she said. "You see, I'm
living with an aunt, and I--well, never mind." She thought for a
minute. "I know," she said. "Topp's."

"What?" Malone said.

"Topp's," Dorothy said. "On Forty-second Street, just east of
Broadway? It's a restaurant."

"I don't exactly know where it is," Malone said, "but if it's there,
I'll find it." He looked gallant and determined. "We can get something
to eat there before the show--whatever the show turns out to be."

"Fine," Dorothy said.

"How about making it at six?" Malone said.

She nodded. "Six it is," she said. "Now bye-bye." She touched her
forefinger to her lips, and brushed Malone's cheek with the kissed
finger.

By the time the new set of tingles had begun to evaporate, she had
gone into the police station. Malone heaved a great sigh of passion,
and held down a strong impulse to follow her and protect her. He
wasn't quite sure what he was going to protect her from, but he felt
certain that that would come to him when the time arrived.

Nevertheless, he had work to do, unpleasant as the idea had suddenly
begun to seem. He pulled the list of addresses out of his pocket and
looked at the first one.

_Mike Fueyo._

Mike was the leader of the Silent Spooks, according to Lieutenant
Lynch. Logically, therefore, he would be the first one to talk to.
Malone tried to think of some good questions, but the best one he
could come