KANE AND ABEL
by
Jeffrey Archer

Jeffrey Archer Is a master story-teller, the author of three novels
which have all been worldwide bestsellers.  NOT A PENNY MORE, NOT A
PENNY LESS was his first book written in 1976, which achieved Instant
success.  Next came the tense and terrifying thriller SHALL WE TELL THE
PRESIDENT?  and now his triumphant bestseller KANE AND ABEL.

Jeffrey Archer was born In 1940 and educated at Wellington School and
Brasenose College, Oxford.

He represented Great Britain in the 100 metres In 1963 and became the
youngest member of the House of Commons in 1969.  His wife Mary Is a
Fellow of Newnham College Cambridge, where they live, and they have two
sons, William and James.

CORONET BOOKS Hodder and Stoughton

To Michael and Jane

Copyright 1979 by Jeffrey Archer

First published In Great Britain 1979 by Hodder and Stoughton Limited
Coronet edition, September 1980

The characters and situations In this book are entirely Imaginary and
bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

This book Is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior consent In any form of binding or cover
other than that In which this Is published and without a similar
condition Including this condition being Imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.

Set, printed and bound In Great Britain for Hodder and Stoughton
Paperbacks, a division of Hodder and Stoughton Ltd., Mill Road, Dunton
Green, Sevenoaks, Kent (Editorial Office: 47 Bedford Square, London, WCI
3DP) by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading

ISBN 0 340 25733 4

Also by the same author, and available in Coronet Books:

Not A Penny More, Not A Penny Less

Shall We Tell The President?

Acknowledgments

The author would like to thank the two men who made this book possible.
They both wish to remain anonymous, one because he is working on his own
autobiography and the other because he is still a public figure in the
United States.

Book One

April 18th, 1906   Slonim, Poland

She only stopped screaming when she died.  It was then that he started
to scream.

The young boy who was hunting rabbits in the forest was not sure whether
it had been the woman's last cry or the child's first that alerted him.
He turned suddenly, sensing the possible danger, his eyes searching for
an animal that was so obviously in pain.  He had never known any animal
to scream in quite that way before.  He edged towards the noise
cautiously; the scream had now turned to a whine, but it still did not
sound like any animal he knew.  He hoped it would be small enough to
kill; at least that would make a change from rabbit for dinner.

The young boy moved stealthily towards the river, where the strange
noise came from, running from tree to tree, feeling the protection of
the bark against his shoulder blades, something to touch.  Never stay in
the open, his father had taught him.  When he reached the edge of the
forest, he had a clear line of vision all the way down the valley to the
river, and even then it took him some time to realise that the strange
cry emanated from no ordinary animal.  He continued to creep towards the
whining, but he was out in the open on his own now.  Then suddenly he
saw the woman, with her dress above her waist, her bare legs splayed
wide apart.  He had never seen a woman like that before.

He ran quickly to her side and stared down at her belly, quite
frightened to touch.  There, lying between the woman's legs, attached by
something that looked like rope, was the body of a small, damp, pink
baby.

The young hunter dropped his freshly skinned rabbits and collapsed on
his knees beside the little creature.

He gazed for a long, stunned moment and then turned lis eyes towards the
woman, immediately regretting the decision, She was already blue with
cold; her tired twenty-three-year-old face looked middle-aged to the
boy; he did not need to be told that she was dead.  He picked up the
slippery little body - had you asked him why, and no one ever did, he
would have told you that the tiny fingernails clawing the crumpled face
had worried him - and then he became aware that mother and child were
inseparable because of the slimy rope.

He had watched the birth of a lamb a few days earlier and he tried to
remember.  Yes, that's what the shepherd had done, but dare he, with a
child?  The whining had stopped and he sensed that a decision was now
urgent.  He unsheathed his knife, the one he had skinned the rabbits
with, wiped it on his sleeve and hesitating only for a moment, cut the
rope close to the child's body, Blood flowed freely from the severed
ends.  Then what had the shepherd done when the lamb was born?  He had
tied a knot to stop the blood.  Of course, of course; he pulled some
grass out of the earth beside him and hastily tied a crude knot in the
cord.  Then he took the child in his arms.  He rose slowly from his
knees, leaving behind him three dead rabbits and a dead woman who had
given birth to this child.  Before finally turning his back on the
mother, he put her legs together, and pulled her dress down over her
knees, It seemed to be the right thing to do. "Holy God," he said aloud,
the first thing he always said when he had done something very good or
very bad.

He wasn't yet sure which this was.

The young hunter then ran towards the cottage where he knew his mother
would be cooking supper, waiting only for his rabbits; all else would be
prepared.  She would be wondering how many he might have caught today;
with a family of eight to feed, she needed at least three, Sometimes he
managed a duck, a goose or even a pheasant that had strayed from the
Baron's estate, on which his father worked.

Tonight he had caught a different animal, and when he reached the
cottage the young hunter dared not let go of his prize even Nith one
hand, so he kicked at the door with his bare foot until his mother
opened it.  Silently, he held out his offering to her.  She made no
immediate move to take the creature from him but stood) one hand on her
breast, gazing at the wretched sight.

"Holy God," she said and crossed herself.  The boy stared up at his
mother's face for some sign of pleasure or anger.  Her eyes were now
showing a tenderness that the boy had never seen in them before.  He
knew then that the thing which he had done must be good.

"Is it a baby, Matka?"

"It's a little boy," said his mother, nodding her head sorrowfully.
"Where did you find him?"

"Down by the river, Matka," he said.

"And the mother?"

"Dead."

She crossed herself again.

"Quickly, run and tell your father what has happen.

The young hunter handed over the little boy to his mother, happy enough
not to have dropped the slippery creature.  Now, free of his quarry, he
rubbed his hands on his trousers and ran off to look for his father.

The mother closed the door with her shoulder and called out for her
eldest child, a girl, to put the pot on the stove.

She sat down on a wooden stool, unbuttoned her bodice and pushed a tired
nipple towards the little puckered mouth.

Sophia, her youngest daughter, only six months old, would have to go
without her supper tonight; come to think of it, so would the whole
family.

"And to what purpose?" the woman said out loud, tucking a shawl around
her arm and the child together.. "Poor little mite, you be dead by
morning."

But she did not repeat those feelings to old Urszula Wojnak when the
midwife washed the little body and tended to the umbilical stump late
that night.  Her husband stood silently by observing the scene.

"When a guest comes into the house, God comes into the house," declared
the woman, quoting the old Polish proverb.

Her husband spat. "To the cholera with him.  We have enough children of
our own."

The woman pretended not to hear him as she stroked the dark, thin hairs
on the baby's head.

"What shall we call him?" the woman asked, looking up at her husband.

He shrugged.. "Who cares?  Let him go to his grave name-less."

Boston, Massachusetts

The doctor picked up the newborn child by the ankles and slapped its
bottom.  The infant started to cry.

In Boston, Massachusetts, there is a hospital that caters mainly for
those who suffer from the diseases of the rich, and on selected
occasions allows itself to deliver the new richi At the Massachusetts
General Hospital the mothers don't scream,an certainly they don't give
birth..  It is not the done thing.

A young man was pacing up and down outside the delivery room; inside,
two obstetricians and,the family doctor were on duty.  This father did
not believe in taking risks with his first home The two obstetricians
would be paid a large fee merely to stand by and witness events.  One of
them, who wore evening clothes under his long white coat, had a dinner
party to attend later, but he could not afford to absent himself from
this particular birth.  The three had earlier drawn straws to decide who
should deliver the child, kild Doctor MacKenzie, the family G.P., had
won.  A sound, ,(.cure name, the father considered, as he paced up and
down the corridor.  Not that he had any reason to be anxious. Roberts
had driven his wife, Anne, to the hospital in the I iinsom carriage that
morning, which she had calculated was the twenty-eighth day of her ninth
month.  She had started ltbour soon after breakfast, and he had been
assured that delivery would not take place until his bank had closed for
the day.  The father was a disciplined man and saw no reason why a birth
should interrupt his well-ordered life. Nevertheless, he continued to
pace.

Nurses and young doctors It urried past him, aware of his presence,
their voices lowered when they were near him, and raised again only when
they were out of his earshot.  He didn't notice because everybody had
always treated him that way.  Most of them had never seen him in person;
all of them knew who he was.

If it was a boy, a son, he would probably build the new children's wing
that the hospital so badly needed.  He had already built a library and a
school.  The expectant father tried to read the evening paper, looking
over the words but not taking in their meaning.  He was nervous, even
worried.  It would never do for them (he looked upon almost everyone as
'them') to realise that it had to be a boy, a boy who would one day take
his place as president of the bank.

He turned the pages of the Evening Transcript.  The Boston Red Sox had
beaten the New York Highlanders - others would be celebrating.  Then he
recalled the headline on the front page and returned to it.  The
worst-ever earthquake in the history of America.  Devastation in San
Francisco, at least four hundred people dead - others would be mourning.
He hated that.  That would take away from the birth of his son.  People
would remember something else had happened on that day.  It never
occurred to him, not even for a moment, that it might be a girl.  He
turned to the financial pages and checked the stock market, down
sharply; that damned earthquake had taken one hundred thousand dollars
off the value of his own holdings in the bank, but as his personal
fortune remained comfortably over sixteen million dollars, it was going
to take more than a Californian earthquake to move him.   could now live
off the interest from his irlterest, so the sixteen million capital
would always remain intact, ready for his son, still unborn.  He
continued to pace and pretend to read the Transcript,, The obstetrician
in evening dress pushed through the  swinging doors of the delivery room
to report the news.  He felt he must do something for his large unearned
fee and he was the most suitably dressed for the announcement, The two
men stared at each other for a moment.  The doctor also felt a little
nervous, but he wasn't going to show it in front of the father.

"Congratulations, sir, you have a son, a fine-looking little boy."

What silly remarks people make when a child is born, the father thought;
how could he be anything but little?  The news hadn't yet dawned on him
- a son.  He almost thanked God.  The obstetrician ventured a question
to break the silence.

"Have you decided what you will call him?" The father answered without
hesitation.. "William Lowell Kane."

Long after the excitement of the baby's anival had passed and the rest
of the family had gone to bed, the mother remained awake with the little
child in her arms.  Helena Koskiewicz believed in life, and she had
borne nine children to prove it.  Although she had lost three in
infancy, she had not let any of them go easily, Now at thirty-five she
knew that her once lusty jasio would give her no more sons or daughters.
God had given her, one; surely he was destined to live.  Helena's was a

simple faith, which was good, for her destiny was never to afford her
more than a simple life.  She was grey and thin, ,lot through choice but
through little food, hard work, and no spare money.  It never occurred
to her to complain but the lines on her face would have been more in
keeping with a grandmother than a mother in today's world.  She had
never worn new clothes even once in her life.

Helena squeezed her tired breasts so hard that dull red marks appeared
around the nipples.  Little drops of milk squirted out.  At thirty-five,
halfway through life's contract, we all have some useful piece of
expertise to pass on and Helena Koskiewicz's was now at a premium.

"Matka's littlest one," she whispered tenderly to the child, and drew
the milky teat across its pursed mouth.  The blue eyes opened and tiny
drops of sweat broke out on the baby's nose as he tried to suck. Finally
the mother slumped unwillingly into a deep sleep.

jasio Koskiewicz, a heavy, dull man with a full mustache, his only
gesture.  of self-assertion in an otherwise servile existence,
discovered his wife and the baby asleep in the rocking chair when he
rose at five.  He hadn't noticed her absence from their bed that night.
He stared down at the bastard who had, thank God, at least stopped
wailing.

Was it dead?  jasio considered the easiest way out of the dilemma was to
get himself to work and not interfere with the intruder; let the woman
worry about life and death: his preoccupation was to be on the Baron's
estate by first light.

He took a few long swallows of goat's milk and wiped his luxuriant
mustache on his sleeve.  Then he grabbed a hunk of bread with one hand
and his traps with the other, slipping noiselessly out of the cottage
for fear of waking the woman and getting himself involved.  He strode
away towards the forest, giving no more thought to the little intruder
other than to assume that he had seen him for the last time.

Florentyna, the elder daughter, was next to enter the kitchen, just
before the old clock, which for many years had kept its own  claimed
that six a.m.  had arrived.  It was ig of no more than ancillary
assistance to those who wished to know if it was the hour to get up or
go to bed.  Among Florentyna's daily duties was the preparation of the
breakfast. It required the wisdom of Solomon to carry out the task in
such a way that no one complained about,another's portion.

Florentyna struck those who saw her for the first time as a pretty,
frail, shabby little thing.  It was unfair that for the last three years
she had had only one dress to wear, but those who could separate their
opinion of the child from that of her surroundings understood why jasio
had fallen in love with her mother.  Florentyna's long fair hair shone
while her hazel eyes sparkled in defiance against the influence of her
birth and diet, She tiptoed up to the rocking chair and stared down at
her mother and the little boy whom she had adored at first sight.  She
had never in her eight years owned a doll.  Actually she had only seen
one once, when the family had been invited to a celebration of the feast
of St.  Nicholas at the Baron's castle.  Even then she had not actually
touched the beautiful object, but now she felt an inexplicable urge to
hold this baby in her arms.  She bent down and eased the child away from
her mother and, staring down into the little blue eyes - such blue eyes
- she began to hum.  The change of temperature from the warmth of the
mother's breast to the cold of the little girls hands made the baby
indignant.  He immediately started crying which woke the mother, whose
only reaction was of guilt for ever having fallen asleep.

"Holy God, he's still alive," she said to Florentyna.. "You breakfast
for the boys while I try to feed him again." .prepare Florentyna
reluctantly handed the infant back and watched her mother once again
pump her sagging breasts.  The little girl was mesmerised.

"Hurry up, Florcia." chided her mother, "the rest of the family must eat
as well:

Florentyna obeyed, and as her brothers arrived from the loft where they
all slept, they kissed their mothers hands in greeting and stared at the
newcomer in awe.  All they knew was that this one had not come from
Mother's stomach.  Florentyna was too excited to eat her breakfast that
morning, so the boys divided her portion among them without a second
thought and.  left their mother's share on the table.  No one noticed,
as they went about their daily tasks, that their mother hadn't eaten
anything since the baby's arrival.

Helena Koskiewicz was pleased that her children had learned so early in
life to fend for themselves.  They could feed the animals, milk the
goats and cows, tend the vegetable garden, and go about their daily
tasks without her help or prodding.  When jasio returned home in the
evening she suddenly realised that she had not prepared supper for him,
but that Florentyna had taken the rabbits from Franck, her brother the
hunter, and had already started to cook them.

Florentyna was proud to be in charge of the evening meal, a
responsibility she was entrusted with only when her mother was unwell,
and Helena Koskiewicz rarely allowed herself that luxury.  The young
hunter had brought home four rabbits and the father six mushrooms and
three potatoes: tonight would be a veritable feast.

After dinner, jasio Koskiewicz sat in his chair by the fire and studied
the child properly for the first time.  Holding the little baby under
the armpits, with his two thumbs supporting the helpless neck, he cast a
trapper's eye over the infant.  Wrinkled and toothless, the face was
redeemed only by the fine, blue, unfocusing eyes.  Directing his gaze
towards the thin body, something immediately attracted his attention. He
scowled and rubbed the delicate chest with his thumbs.

"Have you noticed this, Helena?" said the trapper prodding the baby's
ribs. "The ugly little bastard has only one nipple."

his wife frowned as she in turn rubbed the skin with her thumb, as
though the action would supply the missing organ.  Her husband was
right: the minute and colourless left nipple was there, but where its
mirror image should have appeared on the sight-hand side the shallow
breast was completely smooth and uniformly pink.

The woman's superstitious tendencies were irnmediatelv aroused.. "He has
been given to me by God," she exclaimed.. "See His mark upon him."

The man thrust the child angrily at her.. "You're a fool, Helena.  The
child was given to its mother by a man with bad blood." He spat into the
fire, the more precisely to express his opinion of the child's
parentage.. "Anyway, I wouldn't bet a potato on the little bastard's
survival."

Jasio Koskiewicz cared even less than a potato that the child should
survive.  He was not by nature a callous man but the boy was not his,
and one more mouth to feed could only compound his problems.  But if it
was so to be, it was not for him to question the Almighty, and with no
more thought of the boy, he fell into a deep sleep by the fire.

As the days passed by, even jasio Koskiewicz began to believe the child
might survive and, had he been a betting man, he would have lost a
potato.  The eldest son, the hunter, with the help of his younger
brothers, made the child a cot out of wood which they had collected from
the Baron's forest, Florentyna made his clothes by cutting little pieces
off her own dresses and then sewing them together, They would have
called Mm Harlequin if they had known what it meant.  In truth, naming
him caused more disagreement in the household than any other single
problem had done for months; only the father had no opinion to offer.
Finally, they agreed on Wladek; the following Sunday, in the chapel on
the Baron's great estate, the child was christened Wladek Koskiewicz,
the mother thanking God for sparing his life, the father resigning
himself to whatever must be.

That evening there was a small feast to celebrate the christening,
augmented by the gift of a goose from the Baron's estate.  They all ate
heartily, From that day on, Florentyna learned to divide by nine, Anne
Kane had slept peacefully through the night.  When her son William
returned after breakfast in the arms of one of the hospital's nurses,
she could not wait to hold him again.

"Now then, Mrs.  Kane," said the white-uniformed nurse briskly, "shall
we give baby his breakfast too?"

She sat Anne, who was abruptly aware of her swollen breasts, up in bed
and guided the two novices through the procedure.  Anne, conscious that
to appear embarrassed would be considered unnatural, gazed fixedly into
William's blue eyes, more blue even than his father's, and assimilated
her new position, with which it would have been illogical to be other
than pleased.  At twenty-one, she was not conscious that she lacked
anything.  Born a Cabot, married into a branch of the Lowell family, and
now a first born son to carry on the tradition summarised so succinctly
in the card sent to her by an old school friend:

Here's to the city of Boston, Land of the bean and the cod, Where Cabots
talk only to Lowells, And Lowells talk only to God.

Anne spent half an hour talking to William but obtained little response.
He was then retired for a sleep in the same manner by which he had
arrived.  Anne nobly resisted the fruit and candy piled by her bedside.
She was determined to get back into all her dresses by the surmner
season and reassume her rightful place in all the fashionable magazines.

Had not the Prince de Garonne said that she was the only beautiful
object in Brighton?  Her long golden hair, fine delicate features, and
slim figure had attracted excited admiration in cities she had never
even visited.  She looked in the mirror: no telltale lines on her face;
people would hardly believe that she was the mother of a bouncing I)oy.
Thank God it had been a bouncing boy, thought Anne.

She enjoyed a light lunch and prepared herself for visitors who would
appear during the afternoon, already screened by her private secretary.
Those allowed to see her on the first days had to be family or from the
very elite families; others would be told she was not yet ready to
receive them, But as Boston was the last city remaining in America where
each knew their place to the finest degree of social proence, there was
unlikely to be any unexpectej intruder.

The room which she alone occupied could have taken another five beds had
it not already been smothered in flowers.  A casual passer-by could have
been forgiven for mistaking it for a minor horticultural show, if it had
not been for the presence of the young mother sitting upright in bed.
Anne switched on the electric light, still a novelty for her; Richard
and she had waited for the Cabots to have them fitted, which all of
Boston had interpreted as an oracular sign that electromagnetic
induction was as of that moment socially acceptable, The first visitor
was Anne's mother-in-law, Mrs.  Thomas Lowell Kane, the bead of the
family since her husband had died the previous year, In elegant late
middle-age, she had perfected the technique of sweeping into a room to
her own total satisfaction and to its occupants undoubted discomfiture.
She wore a long chemise dress, which made it impossible to view her
ankles; the only man who had ever seen her ankles was now dead.  She had
always been lean.

In her opinion, fat women meant bad food and even worse breeding.  She
was now the oldest Lowell alive; the oldest Kane, come to that.  She
therefore expected and was expected to be the first to arrive to view
her new grandson.  After all, had it not been she who had arranged the
meeting between Anne and Richard?  Love had seemed of little consequence
Mrs, Kane, Wealth, position and prestige she could always come to terms
with.  Love was all very well but it rarely proved to be a lasting
commodity; the other three She kissed her daughter-in-law approvingly on
the forehead.  Anne touched a button on the wall, and a quiet buzz could
be heard.  The noise took Mrs.  Kane by surprise; she could not believe
electricity would ever catch on.  The Durse reappeared with the heir.
Mrs.  Kane inspected him, sniffed her satisfaction and waved him away.

"Well done, Anne," the old lady said, as if her daughterin-law had won a
minor prize.. "All of us are very proud of you."

Anne's own mother, Mrs.  Edward Cabot arrived a few minutes later. She,
like Mrs.  Kane, had been widowed within recent years and differed so
little from her in appearance that those who observed them only from
afar tended to get them muddled up.  But to do her justice, she took
considerably more interest in her new grandson and in her daughter.

The inspection moved to the flowers. "How kind of the jacksons to
remember," murmured Mrs. Cabot.

Mrs. Kane adopted a more cursory procedure.  Her eyes skimmed over the
delicate blooms then settled on the donors' cards.  She whispered the
sootldng names to herself : Adamses, Lawrences, Lodges, legginsons,
Neither grandmother commented on the names they didt know; they were
both past the age of wanting to learn of anything or anyone new.  They
left together, well pleased: an heir had been born and appeared on first
sight, to be adequate.

They both considered that their final family obligation had been
successfully, albeit vicariously, performed and that they themselves
might now progress to the role of chorus.

They were both wrongs Anne and Richard's close friends poured in during
the afternoon with gifts and good wishes, the former of gold or silver,
the latter in high-pitched Bralunin accents.

When her husband arrived after the close of business, Anne was somewhat
overtired.  Richard had drunk champagne at lunch for the first time in
his life - old Amos Kerbes had insisted and, with the whole Somerset
Club looking on, Richard could hardly have refused.  He seemed to his
wife to be a little less stiff than usual.  Solid in his long black
frock coat and pinstripe trousers, he stood fully six feet one; his dark
hair with its centre parting gleamed in the light of the large electric
bulb.  Few would have guessed his age correctly as only thirty-three:
youth had never been important to him; substance was the only thing that
mattered.  Once again William Lowell Kane was called for and inspected,
as if the father were checking the balance at the end of the banking
day.  All seemed to be in order.  The boy had two legs, two arms, ten
fingers, ten toes and Richard could see nothing that might later
embarrass him, so William was sent away.

"I wired the headmaster of St.  Paul's last night.  William has been
admitted for September, 1918."

Anne said nothing.  Richard had so obviously started planning William's
career.

"Well, my dear, are you fully recovered today?" he went on to inquire,
never having spent a day in hospital during his thirty-three years.

"Yes - no - I think so,"  responded his wife timidly, suppressing a
rising tearfulness that she knew would only displease her husband.  The
answer was not of the sort that Richard could hope to understand.  He
kissed his wife on the cheek and returned in the hansom carriage to the
Red House on Louisburg Square, their family home.  With staff, servants,
the new baby and his nurse, there would now be nine mouths to feed.
Richard did not give the problem a second thought.

William Lowell Kane received the Church's blessing and the names his
father had apportioned him before birth at the Protestant Episcopal
Church of St.  Paul's, in the presence of everybody in Boston who
mattered and a few who didn't Ancient Bishop Lawrence officiated, J.  P.
Morgan and Alan Lloyd, bankers of impeccable standing, along with Milly
Preston, Anne's closest friend, were the chosen godparents, His Grace
sprinkled the Holy Water on William's head; the boy didn't murmur.  He
was already learning the Brahmin approach to life.  Anne thanked God
for' the safe birth of her son and Richard thanked God, whom He regarded
as an external bookkeeper whose function was to record the deeds of the
Kane family from generation to generation, that he had a son to whom he
could leave his fortune, Still, he thought, perhaps he had better be
certain and have a second boy.  From his kneeling position he glanced
sideways at his wife, well pleased with her.

Book Two

Wladek Koskiewicz grew slowly, It became apparent to his foster mother
that the boy's health would always,be a problem.  He caught all the
illnesses and diseases that growing children normally catch and many
that they don't, and he passed them on indiscriminately to the rest of
the Koskie-,vicz family, Helena treated him as any other of her brood
and always vigorously defended him when jasio began to ])lame the devil
rather than God for Wladek's presence in their tiny cottage. Florentyna,
on the other hand, took care of Wladek as if he were her own child.  She
loved him from the first moment she had set eyes on him with an
intensity that grew from a fear that no one would ever want to marry the
penniless daughter of a trapper She must, therefore, childless.  Wladek
was her child.

The eldest brother, the hiinterg who had found Wladek, treated him like
a plaything but was too afraid of his father to admit that he liked the
frail infant who was growing into a sturdy toddler.  In any case, next
January the hunter was to leave school and start work on the Baron's
estate, and children were a woman's problem, so his father had told Mm.

The three younger brothers, Stefan, Josef and Jan, showed little
interest in Wladek and the remaining member of the family, Sophia, was
happy enough just to cuddle him.

What neither parent had been prepared for was a character and mind so
different from those of their own children No one could dismiss the
physical or intellectual difference.  The Koskiewiczes were all tall,
large-boned with fair hair and grey eyes, Wladek was short and round,
with dark hair and intensely blue eyes.  The Koskiewiczes had minimal
pretensions to scholarship and were removed from the village school as
soon as age or discretion allowed.  Wladek, on the other hand, though he
was late in walking, spoke at sixteen months.  Read at three, but was
still unable to dress himself.  Wrote at five, but continued to wet his
bed.  He became the despair of his father and the pride of his mother.
first four years on this earth were memorable only as a continual
physical attempt through illness to try to depart from it, and for the
sustained efforts of Helena and Florentyna to insure that he did not
succeed.  He ran around the little wooden cottage barefoot, dressed in
his harlequin outfit, a yard or so behind his mother.  When Florentyna
returned from school, he would transfer his allegiance, never leaving
her side until she put Mm to bed.

In her division of the food by nine, Florentyna often sacrificed half of
her own share to Wiadek or, if he were ill, the entire portion.  Wladek
wore the clothes she made for him, sang the songs she taught Mm and
shared with her the few toys and presents she had been given.

Because Florentyna was away at school most of the day, Wladek wanted
from a young age to go with her.  As soon as be was allowed to (holding
firmly on to Florentyna's hand until they reached the village school),
he walked the eighteen wiorsta, some nine miles, through the woods of
moss-covered birches and cypresses and the orchards of lime and cher-r-
to Slonim to begin his education.

Wladek liked school from the first day; it was an escape from the tiny
cottage which had until then been his whole world.  School also
confronted him for the first time in life with the savage implications
of the Russian occupation of eastern Poland.  He learned that his native
Polish was to be spoken only in the privacy of the cottage and that
while at school, only Russian was to be used.  He sensed in the other
children around him a fierce pride in the oppressed mother tongue and
culture.  He, too, felt that same pride.  To his surprise, Wladek found
that he was not belittled by Mr.  Kotowski, his schoolteacher, the way
he was at home by his father.  Although still the youngest, as at home,
it was not ng before he rose above all his classmates in everything
"Ilcel)t height.  His tiny stature misled them into continual
;Ilderestimation of his real abilities: children always imane biggest is
best, By the age of five, Wladek was first in %,cry subject taken by Its
class except ironwork.

At night, back at the little wooden cottage, while the other children
would tend the violets and poplars that bloomed so fragrantly in their
spring-time garden) pick her!-ics, chop wood, catch rabbits or make
dresses, Wladek read !Id read, until he,,was reading the unopened books
of his eldest brother and then those of his elder sister.  It began to
(iawn slowly on Helena Koskiewicz that she had taken on ore than she had
bargained for when the young hunter ',ad brought home the little animal
in place of three mb!)its; already Wiadek was asking questions she could
not answer.

She knew soon that she would be quite unable to f)pe, and she wasn't
sure what to do about it- She had an unswerving belief in destiny and so
was not surprised when the decision was taken out of her hands,, One
evening in the autumn of 1911 cazne the first turning rig point in
Wladek's life.  The family had all finished their plain supper of
beetroot soup and meatballs, jasio Koskie%,.Iicz was seated snoring by
the fire, Helena was sewing, and the other children were playing. Wladek
was sitting at the I (!et of his mother, reading, when above the noise
of Stefan :and Josef squabbling over the possession of some newly
fainted pine cones, they heard a loud knock on the door, hey all were
silent.  A knock was always a surprise to the Koskiewicz family, for the
little cottage was eighteen wiorsta from Slonim and over six from the
Baron's estate.  Visitors were almost unknown, and could be offered only
a drink of berry juice and the company of noisy children.  The whole
family looked towards the door apprehensively.  As if it had not
happened, they waited for the knock to come again.  It did, if anything
a little louder.

jasio rose sleepily from his chair, walked to the door and opened it
cautiously.  When they saw the man standing there, everyone bowed their
heads except Wladek, who stared up at the broad, handsome, aristocratic
figure in the heavy bearskin coat, whose presence dominated the tiny
room and brought fear into the fathers eyes.  A cordial smile allayed
that fear, and the trapper invited the Baron Rosnovski into his home.
Nobody spoke.

The Baron had never visited them in the past and no one was sure what to
say.

Wladek put down his book, rose, and walked towards the stranger,
thrusting out his hand before his father could sto. "Good evening, sir,"
said Wladek.

The Baron took his hand and they stared into each other's eyes.  As the
Baron released him, Wladek's eyes fell on a magnificent silver band
around his wrist with an inscription on it that he could not quite make
out.

"You must be Wladek."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, neither sounding nor showing surpnse that the
Baron knew his name.

"It is about you that I have come to see your father," said the Baron.

Wladek remained before the Baron, stating up at him.  The trapper
signified to his children by a wave of the arm that they should leave
him alone with his master, so two of them curtsied, four bowed and all
six retreated silently into the loft.  Wladek remained, and no one
suggested he should do otherwise.

"Koskiewicz," began the Baron, still standing, as no one had invited Mm
to sit.  The trapper had not offered him a chair for two reasons :
first, because he was too shy and second, because he assumed the Baron
was there to issue a reprimand.. "I have come to ask a favour."

"Anything, sir, anything," said the father, wondering what he could give
the Baron that he did not already have a hundred-fold.

The Baron continued.. "My son, Leon, is now six and is being taught
privately at the castle by two tutors, one from our native Poland and
the other from Germany.  They tell me he is a clever boy, but that he
lacks competition as he has only himself to beat.  Mr.  Kotowsid, the
teacher of the T

,illa,-e school at Slonim, tells me that Wladek is the only :,oy capable
of providing the competition that Leon so badly )eeds.  I wonder
therefore if you would allow your son to leave the village school and to
join Leon and his tutors at the castle."

Wladek continued to stand before the Baron, gazing, while before him
there opened a wondrous vision of food i,nd drink, books and teachers
wiser by far than Mr, Kotowski, He glanced towards his mother.  She,
too, was gazing at the Baron, her face filled with wonder and sorrow.
His father turned to his mother, and the instant of silent communication
between them seemed an eternity to the child, The trapper gruffly
addressed the Baron's feet.. "We would be honoured, sir."

The Baron looked interrogatively at Helena Koskiewicz. "The Blessed
Virgin forbid that I should ever stand in my child's way," she said
softly, "though She alone knows how much it will cost me."

"But, Madam Koskiewicz, your son can return home regularly to see you."

"Yes, sir.  I expect he will do so, at first' She was about to

add some plea but decided against it.

The Baron smiled.. "Good, It's settled then.  Please bring oming by
seven o'clock, the boy to the castle tomorrow m During the school term
Wladek will live with us, and when Christmas comes, he can return to
you:

"Quiet, boy' said the trapper, Wladek burst into tears.

"I will not go." said Wladek firmly, wanting to go.. "Quiet, boy," said
the trapper, this time a little louder. "I will never leave Florcia -
never

"Why not?" asked the Baron, with compassion in his voice.

"Florcia?" queried the Baron

"My eldest daughter, sir' interjected the trapper.. "Don't concern
yourself with her, sir.  The boy will do as he is told4' No one spoke,
The Baron considered for a moment.  Wladek continued to cry controlled
tears.

"How old is the girl?" asked the Baron.

"Fourteen,, replied the trapper.

"Could she work in the kitchens?" asked the Baron, relieved to observe
that Helena Koskiewicz was not going to burst into tears, as well.

"Oh Yes, Baron," she replied. "Florcia can cook and she can sew and she
can .  .  ."

"Good, good, then she can come as well.  I shall expect to see them both
tomorrow morning at seven."

The Baron walked to the door and looked back and sled at Wladek, who
returned the smile.  Wladek had won his first bargain, and accepted his
mother's tight embrace while he stared at the closed door and heard her
whisper. "Ah, Matka's littlest one, what will become of you now?" Wladek
couldn't wait to find out.

Helena Koskiewicz packed for Wiadek and Florentyna during the night, not
that it would have taken long to pack the entire family's possessions,
In the morning, the remainder of the family stood in front of the door
to watch them both depart for the castle each holding a paper parcel
under one arm.  Florentyna tall and graceful, kept looking back, crying
and waving; but Wladek, short and ungainly, never once looked back.
Florentyna held f=ly to Wiadeks hand for the entire journey to the
Baron's castle.  Their z-oles were now reversed; from that day on she
was to depend on him.

They were clearly expected by the maficent man in the embroidered suit
of green livery who was sumznoned by their timid knock on the great oak
door.  Both children had gazed in admiration at the grey uniforms of the
soldiers in the town who guarded the nearby Russian-Polish border, but
they had never seen anything so resplendent as this liveried servant,
towering above them and eviden I tly of overwhelming importance.  There
was a thick carpet in the hall and Wladek stared at the green and red
patterning, amazed by its beauty, wondering if he should take his shoes
off and surprised when he walked across it, his footsteps made no sound.
The dazzling being conducted them to their bedrooms in the west wing.
Separate bedrooms - would they ever get to sleep?  At least there was a
connecting door, so they needed never to be too far apart, and in fact
for many iiights they slept together in one bed.

When they had both unpacked, Florentyna was taken to the kitchen, and
Wladek to a playroom in the south wing of the castle to meet the Baron's
son, Leon.  He was a tall, good-looking boy who was so immediately
charming and %welcoming to Wladek that he abandoned his prepared
pugiiacious posture with surprise and relief.  Leon had been a lonely
child, with no one to play with except his niania, the ('evoted
Lithuanian woman who had breast-fed him and another.  The stocky boy who
had come out of the forest ittended to his every need since the
premature death of his promised companionship.  At least in one matter
they both knew they had been deemed equals.

Leon immediately offered to show Wladek around the castle, and the tour
took the rest of the morning.  Wladek remained astounded by its size,
the richness of the furniture and fabric, and those carpets in every
room.  To Leon he admitted only to being agreeably impressed: after all,
he had won his place in the castle on merit.  The main part of the
building is early Gothic, explained the Baron's son, as if Wladek were
sure to know what Gothic meant.  Wladek nodded.  Next Leon took his new
friend down into the imTnense cellars, with line upon line of wine
bottles covered in dust and cobwebs.  Wladek's favourite room was the
vast dining hall, with its massive pillared vaulting and stoneflagged
floor.  There were animals' heads all around the walls.  Leon told him
they were bison, bear, elk, boar and wolverine.  At the end of the room,
resplendent, was the Baron's coat of arms below stag's antlers.  The
Rosnovski family motto rea. "Fortune favours the brave'.  After a lunch,
which Wladek ate so little of because he couldn't master a knife and
fork, he met his two tutors who did not give him the same warm welcome,
and in the evening he climbed up on to the longest bed he had ever seen
and told Florentyna about his adventures.  Her "cited eyes never once
left his face, nor did she even close her mouth, agape with wonder,
especially when she heard about the knife and fork$ which Wladek
described with the fingers of his right hand held out tight together,
those of his left splayed wide apart, The tutoring started at seven
sharp, before breakfast, continued throughout the day with only short
breaks meals.

Initially, Leon was clearly ahead of Wladek, I-)it Wladek wrestled
determinedly with his books so that as the weeks passed the gap began to
narrow, while friendship and rivalry between the two boys developed
simultaneously.  The German and Polish tutors found it hard to treat
their two pupils, the son of a baron, and the son of a trapper, as
equals, although they reluctantly conceded to the Baron when he enquired
that Mr, Kotowski had made the right academic choice.  The
tutors'attitude towards Wladek never worried Mm because by Leon he was
always treated as an equal.

The Baron let it be known that he was pleased with the progress the two
boys were making and from time to time he would reward Wladek with
clothes and toys.  Wladek's initial distant and detached admiration for
the Baron developed into respect and, when the time came for the boy to
return to the little cottage in the forest to rejoin his father and
mother for Christmas, he became distressed at the thought of leaving
Leon.

His distress was well-founded.  Despite the initial happiness he felt at
seeing his mother, the short space of three months that he had spent in
the Baron's castle had revealed to him deficiencies in his own home of
which he had previously been quite unaware, The holiday dragged on.
Wladek felt himself stifled by the little cottage with its one room and
loft, and dissatisfied by the food dished out in such meagre amounts and
then eaten by hand: no one had divided by nine at the castle.  After two
weeks Wladek longed to return to Leon and the Baron.  Every afternoon he
would walk the six wiorsta to the castle and sit and stare at the great
walls that surrounded the estate.  Florentyna, who had lived only among
the kitchen servants, took to retumino, 0 more easily and could not
understand that the cottage would never be home again for Wladek.  The
trapper was not sure flow to treat the boy, who was now well-dressed,
well of bespoken, and talked of things at six that the man did n gin to
understand, nor did he want to.  The boy seemed to waste the entire day
reading.  Whatever do nothing but w would become of him, the trapper
wondered.  If he could not swing an axe or trap a hare, how could he
ever hope to earn an honest living?  He too prayed that the holiday
would pass quickly.

Helena was proud of Wladek, and at first avoided admitting to herself
that a wedge had been driven between him and the rest of the children.
But in the end it could not be avoided.  Playing at soldiers one
evening, both Stefan and Franck, generals on opposing sides, refused to
have Wladek in their armies.

"Why must I always be left out?" cried Wladek.. "I want to learn to
fight too: of us," declared Stefan.. "You are

"Because you are not one lot really our brother."  Franck continued.
"Ojciec There was a long silence before never wanted you in the first
place; only Matka was on your side."

Wladek stood motionless and cast his eye around the for Florentyna.

circle of children, searching

"What does Franck mean, I am not your brother?" he demanded.

Thus Wiadek came to hear of the manner of his birth and to understand
why he had been always set apart from his at his now brothers and
sisters.  Though his mothees distress total self-containment became
oppressive, Wladek was secretly pleased to discover that he came from
unknown stock, untouched by the meanness of the trapper's blood)
containing with it the germ of spirit that would now make all things
seem possible.   entually came to an end, When the unhappy holiday ev
welcomed Wladek returned to the castle with joy.  Leon the wealth  back
with open amis; for him, as isolated by of his father as Wiadek was by
the poverty of the trapper, it had also been a Christmas with little to
celebrate.  Fron then on the two boys grew even closer and soon became
in separable, When the summer holidays came around, L( begged his father
to allow Wladek to remain at the castle, The Baron agreed for he too had
grown to love Wlade-.  Wladek was overjoyed and only entered the
trapper's cottage once again in his life.

When Wladek and Leon had finished their classroom work, they would spend
the remaining hours playing games.

Their favourite was chowanego, a sort of hide and seek; as the castle
had seventy-two rooms, the chance of repetition was small Wladek's
favourite hiding place was in the dungeons under the castle, in which
the only light by which one could be discovered came through a small
stone grille set high in the wall and even then one needed a candle to
find one's way around.  Wladek was not sure what purpose the dungeons
served, and none of the servants ever made mention of them, as they had
never been used in anyone's memory.

Wladek was conscious that he was Leon's equal only in the classroom, and
was no competition for his friend when they played any game, other than
chess.  The river Strchara that bordered the estate became an extension
to their playground.  In spring they fished, in summer they swam, and in
winter, when the river,was frozen over, they would put on their wooden
skates and chase each other across the ice, while Florentyna sat on the
river bank anxiously warning them where the surface was thin.  But
Wladek never heeded eon grew quick and was always the one who fell in.
and strong; he ran well, swam well and never seemed to tire or be ill.
Wladek became aware for the first time what good-looking and well-built
meant, and he knew when he swam, ran, and skated he could never hope to
keep up with Leon.  Much worse, what Leon called the belly button was,
on him, almost unnoticeable, while Wladek's was stumpy and ugly and
protruded rudely from the middle of his plump body.  Wladek would spend
long hours in the quiet of his own room, studying his physique in a
mirror, always tsking why, and in particular why only one nipple for him
%viien all the boys he had ever seen barechested had the two flat the
symmetry of the human body appeared to require.

Sometimes as he lay in bed unable to sleep, he would finger his naked
chest and tears of self-pity would flood on to the piillow.  He would
finally fall asleep praying that when he livoke in the morning, things
would be different.

His Prayers ,were not answered.

Wladek put aside each night a time to do physical exercises that could
not be witnessed by anyone, not even Flo,ntyna.  Through sheer
determination he learned to hold himself so that he looked taller. He
built up his arms and his legs and hung by the tips of his fingers from
a beam in the bedroom in the hope that it would make him grow, but Leon
grew taller even while he slept.  Wladek was forced to he would always
be a head shorter than accept the fact that the Baros son, and that
nothing nothing was ever going f his own to produce the missing nipple-
Wladek's dislike o body was unprompted, for Leon never commented On his
frien4Ts appearance; his knowledge of other children uncritically.
stopped short at Wladek, whom he adored e increasingly fond of the
fierce Baron Rosnovski becam r brother for dark-haired boy who had
replaced the younge life had died in childbirth.  Leon, so tragically
lost when his w The two boys would dine with him in the great
stonewaited hall each evening, while the flickering r-andles cast minous
shadows from the stuffed animal heads on the wall and the servants came
and went noiselessly with the great hams, crayfish, river trays and
golden plates, bearin geese, fine wine and fruits, and sometimes the
mazureks that had become Wladek's particular favourites.  Afterwards as
the darkness fell ever more thickly around the table, the Baron d would
tell the boys stories dismissed the waiting servants an of Polish
history and allowed them a sip of Danzig vodka, in which the tiny gold
leaves sparkled bravely in the candlelight.  Wladek begged as often as
he dared for the story of Tadeusz Kosciuszko.. "A gnat patriot and
hero," the Baron would reply. "The very symbol of our struggle for
independence, trained i i i France.."

"Whose people we admire and love as we have learned i hate all Russians
and Austrians," supplied Wiadek, who. "pleasure in the tale was enhanced
by his word-perfect knonvledge of it.

"Who is telling whom the story, Wladek?" The Baron laughed, '...  And
then fought with George Washington in America for liberty and democracy.
In 1792 he led the Poles in battle at Dubienka, When our wretched king,
Stanislas Augustus, deserted us to join the Russians, Kosciuszko
returned to the homeland he loved to throw off the yoke of Tsard0m.  He
won the battle of where, Leon?"

"Raclawice, sir, and then he freed Warsaw.. "Good, my child.  Then,
alas, the Russians mustered a great force at Maciejowice and he was
finally defeated and taken prisoner, My greatgreat-great-grandfather
fought with Kosciunko on that day, and later with Dabrowski's legions
for the mighty Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.. "And for his service to
Poland was created the Baron Rosnovski, a title your family will ever
bear in remembrance of those great days,, said Wladek, as stoutly as if
the title would one day pass to him.

"Those great days will come again." said the Baron quietly'I only pray
that I may live to see them."

At Christmas time, the peasants on the estate would bring their families
to the castle for the celebration of the blessed vigil Throughout
Christmas Eve they fasted and the children would look out of the windows
for the first star, which was the sign the feast might begin.  The Baron
would say grace in his fine deep voice. "Benedicte nobis, Domine Deus,
et his donis quae ex liberalitate tUa sumpturi sumus," and once they had
sat down Wladek would be embarrassed by the huge capacity of Jasio
Koskiecz, who addressed himself squarely to every one of the thirteen
courses from the ar,asz soup through to the cakes and plums, and would
as m Previous years be sick in the forest on the way home.

After the feast Wladek enjoyed distributing the gifts from the Chrism=
tree, laden with candles and fruit, to the awestruck peasant children -
a doll for Sophia, a forest knife for Josef, a new dress for Florentyna,
the first gift Wladek had ever requested of the Baron.

"It's true," said Josef to his mother when he received his gift from
Wladek, "he is not our brother, Matka.. "No," she replied, "but he will
always be my son."

Throu,-,h the winter and spring of 1914 Wladek grew in strength and
learning.  Then suddenly, in July, the German tutor left the castle
without even saying farewell; neither boy was sure why.  They never
thought to connect his departure with the assassination in Sarajevo of
the Archduke Francis Ferdinand by a student anarchist, described to them
by their other tutor in unaccountably solemn tones.  The Baron became
withdrawn; neither boy was sure why.  The younger servants, the
children's favourites, began to disappear one by one; neither boy was
sure why.  As the year passed Leon grew taller, Wladek grew stronger,
and both boys became wiser.

One morning in the summer of 1915, a time of fine, lazy days, the Baron
set off on the long journey to Warsaw to put, as he described it, his
affairs in order.  He was away for three and a half weeks, twenty-five
days which Wladekmarked off each morning on a calendar in his bedroom;
it seemed to him a lifetime.  On the day he was due to return, the two
boys went down to the railway station at Slonim to await the weekly
train with its one carriage and greet the Baron on his arrival.  The
three of them travelled home in silence.

Wladek thought the great man looked tired and older, another
unaccountable circumstance, and during the following week the Baron
often conducted with the chief servants a rapid and anxious dialogue,
broken off whenever Leon or Wladek entered the room, an uncharacteristic
surreptitiousness that made the two boys uneasy and fearful that they
were the unwitting cause of it.  Wladek despaired that the Baron Might
send him back to the trapperg cottage - tiWays aware he was a stranger
in a stz-anger's home.

One evenin a few days after the Baron had returned he called for the two
boys to join Mm in the great hall.  The crept in, fearful of him,
Without explanation he told tlleiil that they were about to make a long
journey.  The little Collversation, insubstantial as it seemed to Wladek
at the time, remained with him for the rest of his life.

"My dear children," began the Baron in a low, faltering tone, "the
warmongers of Germany and the Austro-Hunogalian empire are at the throat
of Warsaw and will soon be upon us."

Wladek recalled an inexplicable phrase flung out by the Polish tutor at
the German tutor during their, last tense days together.. "Does that
mean that the hour of the submerged peoples of Europe is at last upon
us?" he asked.

The Baron regarded Wladek's innocent face tenderly.. "Our national
spirit has riot perished in one hundred and fifty years of attrition and
repression," he replied.. "It may be that the fate of Poland is as much
at stake as that of Serbia, but we are powerless to influence history.
We are at the mercy of the three mighty empires that surround us."

"We are strong, we can fight," said Leon. "We have wooden swords and
shields.  We are not afraid of Germans or Russians."

"MY son, you have only played at war.  This battle will not be between
children.  We will now find a quiet place to live until Mstory has
decided our fate and we must leave as soon as possible, I can only pray
that this is not the end of your childhood."

Leon and Wladek were both mystified and irritated by the Baron's words.
War sounded like an exciting adventure which they would be sure to miss
if they had to leave the castle.  The servants took several days to park
the Baron's possessions and Wladek and Leon were informed that they
would be departing for their small summer home in the north of Grodno on
the following Monday.  The two boys continued, largely unsupervised,
with their work and play I)i.it they could now find no one in the castle
with the incIiiiation or time to answer their myriad questions.

On Saturdays, lessons were held only in the morning.. They were
translating Adam Mickiewicz's Pan Tadeusz into latin when they heard the
guns.  At first, Wladek thought the familiar sounds meant only that
another trapper was out Shooting on the estate; the boys returned to the
poetry.  A t,(ond volley of shots, much closer, made them look up and
then they heard the screaming coming from downstairs.. "I'hey stared at
each other in bewilderment; they feared nothing as they had never
experienced anything in their short lives that should have made them
fearful.  The tutor fled leaving them alone, and then came another shot,
this time in the corridor outside their room.  The two boys sat
Motionless, terrified and unbreathing.

Suddenly the door crashed open and a man no older thad their tutor, in a
grey soldier's uniform and steel helmet, stood towering over them.  Leon
clung on to Wladek, while Wladek stared at the intruder.  The soldier
were, but neither y I,)oy replied, despite the fact that they had
mastered the language, and could speak it as well as their mother
tongue! Another soldier appeared behind his companion as the first
advanced on the two boys, grabbed them by the necks, not unlike
chickens, and pulled them out into the corridor, down the hall to the
front of the castle and then into the gardens, where they found
Florentyna screaming hysterically as she stared at the grass in front of
her.  Leon could not bear to look, and buried his head in Wladek's
shoulder.  Wladek gazed as much in surprise as in horror at a row of
dead bodies, mostly servants, being placed face downwards.  He was
mesmerised by the sight of a mustache in profile against a pool of
blood.  It was the trapper.  Wladek felt nothing as Florentyna continued
screaming.

"Is Papa there?" asked Leon.. "Is Papa there?"

Wladek scanned the line of bodies once again.  He thanked God that there
was no sign of the Baron Rosnovski, He was about to tell Leon the good
news when a soldier came up to them.

"Wer hat gesprochen?" he demanded fiercely.

"Ich," said Wladek defiantly.

The soldier raised his rifle and brought the butt crashing down on
Wladek's, head.  He sank to the ground, blood spurting over his face,
Where was the Baron, what was happening, why were they being treated
like this in their own home?  Leon quickly jumped on top of Wladek, ng
to protect him from the second blow which the soldier had iy)tended for
Wladek's stomach, but as the rifle came crashing,.  down -the-f Both
boys Jay motionless, Wladek because he was dazed by the blow and the
sudden weight of Leon's body ol top of him, and Leon because he was
dead! Wladek could hear another soldier berating their tormentor for the
action he had taken.  They picked up Leon, but Wladek clung on to him,
It took two soldiers to prise his friend's body away and dump it
unceremoniously with the others, face down on the grass, Wiadek's eyes
never left the motionless body of his dearest friend until be was
finally marched back inside the castle, and, with a handful of dazed
survivors, led to the dungeons.  Nobody spoke for fear of joining the
line of bodies on the grass, until the dungeon doors were bolted and the
last murmur of the soldiers had vanished in the distance, Then Wladek
said. "Holy God." For there in a corner, slumped against the wall, sat
the Baron, uninjured butstunned, staring into space, alive only because
the conquerors needed someone to be responsible for the prisoners.
Wladek went over to Mm, while the others sat as far away from their
master as possible The two gazed at each other as they had on the first
day they had met.

his hand out, and as on the first day the Baron Wladek put took it.
Wladek watched the tears course down the Baron's proud face.  Neither
spoke, They had both lost the one person they had loved most in the
world.

ered an in Rane grew very quickly, and was consid contact with him; in
the ldii)ral)le child by all who came in besotted relatives c,,ti ly
years of his life these were generally ;tii(l doting servants.

SI eighteenth-r-entury house in t'he, top floor of the Kane
],()(Ilsl)urg Square on Beacon Hill had been converted into ,in'serv
quarters, crammed with toys.  A further bedroom a sitting room were made
available for the newly ac-(ii kred nurse.  The- floor was far enough
away from Richard l@ine for him to be unaware of problems such as
teething, %% et nappies and the irregular and undisciplined cries for
rst step and first word re food.  First sound, first tooth, fis mother

\were all recorded in a family book by William I (ng with the progress
in his height and weight.  Anne was ittle from i i pnsed to find that
these statistics differed very I rise of any other child with whom she
came into contact

(,ii Beacon Hill.

"The nurse, an import from Fnglarid, brought the boy up on a regimen
that would have gladdened the heart of a Prussian cavalry officer.
William's father would visit him Ieach evening at six &dock.  As he
re-fused to address the child in baby languages he ended up not speaking
to him at all; the two merely stared at each other.  William would grip
his father's index finger, the one with which balance sheets were
checked, and hold on to it tightly- Richard would allow himself a smile.
At the end of the first year the routine was slightly modified and the
boy was allowed to come nstairs to see his father.  Richard would sit in
his highdow backed, maroon leather chair watching his first-born weave
his way on all fours in and out of the legs of the furniture reappearing
when least expected, which led Richard to Observe that the child would
undoubtedly become a senator-i William took his first steps at thirteen
months while clinging on to the tails of his father's topcoat.  I-Es
first word wa. "Dada', which pleased everyone, including Grandmother
Kane and Grandmother Cabot, who were regular visitors.

They did not actually push the vehicle in which William was perambulated
around Boston, but they did deign to walk a pace behind the nurse in the
park on Thursday afternoons, glaring at infants with a less disciplined
retinue.  While other children fed the ducks in the public gardens,
William succeeded in charming the swans in the lagoon of Mr., Jack
Gardner's extravagant Venetian Palace.

When two years had passed, the grandmothers intimated by hint and
innuendo that it was high time for another prodigy, an appropriate
sibling for William.  Anne obliged them by becoming pregnant and was
distressed to find her self feeling and looking progressively off colour
as she entered her fourth month.

Doctor MacKenzie ceased to smile as he checked the growing stomach and
hopeful mother, and when Anne miscarried at sixteen weeks he was not
altogether surprised, but did not allow her to indulge her grief.  In
his notes he wrote "pre-eclampsia?" and then told her. "Anne my dear,
the reason you have not been feeling so well is that your blood pressure
was too high, and would probably have become much higher as your
pregnancy progressed I fear doctors haven't found the answer to blood
pressure yet, in fact we know very little other than it's a dangerous
condition for anyone, particularly for a pregnant woman."

Anne held back her tears while considering the implications of a future
without more children.

"Surely it won't happen in my next pregnancy?" she asked, phrasing her
question to dispose the doctor to a favourable answer.

"I should be very surprised if it did not my dear, I am sorry to have to
say this to you, but I would strongly advise you against becoming
pregnant again."

"But I don't mind feeling off-colour for a few montlu if it means .  .
S'

"I am not talking about feeling off-colour, Anne.  I am talking about
not taking any unnecessary risks with your life."

It was a terrible blow for Richard and Anne, who themselves had both
been only children, largely as a result of their respective fathers'
premature deaths.  They had both assumed that they would produce a
family appropriate to the commanding size of their house and their
responsibilities to the next generation.. "What else is there for a
young woman to do?" enquired Grandmother Cabot of G,,d, the subject
again) mother Kane.  No one cared to mention and William became the
centre of everyone's attention.

Richard, who had taken over as the president of Kane and Cabot Bank and
Trust Company when his father had died in 1904, had always immersed
himself in the work of the bank.  The bank, which stood on State Street,
a bastion of architectural and fiscal solidity, had offices in New York,
London and San Francisco.  The last had presented a problem to Richard
soon after William's birth when, along with Crocker National Bank, Wells
Fargo, and the California Bank, it collapsed to the ground, not
financially, but literally, in the great earthquake of 1906, Richard, by
nature a cautious man, was comprehensively insured with Lloyd's of
London.  Gentlemen all) they had paid up to the penny, enabling Richard
to rebuild.  Nevertheless, Richard spent an unr-ornfortable year jolting
across America on the four-day train journey between Boston and San
Francisco, supervising the rebuilding.  He opened the new office in
Union Square in October 1907, barely in time to turn his attention to
other problems arising on the Eastern seaboard.

There was a minor run Dn the New York banks, and many of the smaller
establishments were unable to cope with large withdrawals and started
going to the wall.  J.  P.  Morgan, the legendary chairman of the mighty
bank bearing his name, invited Richard to join a consortium to hold firm
during the crisis.  Richard agreed, the courageous stand worked, and the
problem began to dissipate, but not before Richard had had a few
sleepless nights.

William, on the other hand, slept soundly, unaware of earthquakes and
collapsing banks.  After all, there were swans that must be fed and
endless trips to and from M' ']ton, Brookline and Beverly to be shown to
his distinguished relatives.

Early in the spring of the following year Richard acquired a new toy in
return for a cautious investment of capital in a man called Henry Ford,
who was claiming he could produce a motor car for the people - The bank
entertained Mr.  Ford at luncheon, and Richard was coaxed into the
acquisition of a Model T for the princely sum of eight hundred and fifty
dollars.  Henry Ford assured Richard that if only the bank would back
him, the cost could eventually fall to three hundred and fifty dollars
within a few years and everyone would be buying his cars, thus ensuring
a large profit for his backers.  Richard did back him, and it was the
first time he had placed good money behind Someone who wished his
product to halve in price.

Richard was initially apprehensive that his motor ear.

sombrely black though it was, might not be regarded as a serious mode of
transport for the chairman of a bank, but he was reassured by the
admiring glances from the pavements which the machine attracted.  At ten
miles an hour it was noisier than a horse but it did have the virtue of
leaving no mess in the middle of Mount Vernon Street.  His only quarrel
with Mr.  Ford was that the man would not listen to the suggestion that
a Model T should be made available in a variety of colours.  Mr.  Ford
insisted that every car should be black in order to keep the price down.
Anne, more sensitive than her husband to the approbation of polite
society, would not drive in the vehicle until the Cabots had acquired
one.

William, on the other hand, adored the "automobile', as the press called
it, and immediately assumed that the vehicle had been bought for him to
replace his now redundant and unmechanised.pram.  He also preferred the
chauffeur - with his goggles and flat hat - to his nurse.  Grandmother
Kane and Grandmother Cabot claimed that they would never travel in the
dreadful machine and never did, although it should be pointed out that
Grandmother Kane travelled to ii(r funeral in a motor car, but was never
informed.  , During the next two years the bank grew in strength and
size, as did William.  Americans were once again investing for
expansion, and large sums of money found their way to Kane and Cabot's
to be reinvested in such projects as the expanding Lowell leather
factory in Lowell, Massachusetts.  Richard watched the growth of his
bank and his son with unsurprised satisfaction.  On William's fifth
birthday, he took the child out of womens' hands by engaging at four
hundred and fifty dollars per annum a private tutor, a Mr.  Munro,
personally selected by Richard from a list of eight applicants who had
earlier been screened by his private secretary.  Mr.  Munro was charged
to ensure that William was ready to enter St.  Paul's by the age of
twelve.  William immediately took to Mr.  Munro, whom he thought to be
very old and very clever.  He was, in fact, twenty-three and the
possessor of a second-class honours degree in English from the
University of Edinburgh.

William quickly learned to read and write with facility but saved his
real enthusiasm for figures.  His only complaint was that, of the eight
lessons taught every weekday, only one was arithmetic.  William was
quick to point out to his father that one-eighth of the working day was
a small investment of time for someone who would one day be the
president of a bank.

To compensate for his tutor's lack of foresight, William dogged the
footsteps of his accessible relatives with demands for sums to be
executed in his head.  Grandmother Cabot, who had never been persuaded
that the division of an integer by four would necessarily produce the
same answer as its multiplication by one quarter, and indeed in her
hands the two operations often did result in two different numbers,
found herself speedily outclassed by her grandson, but Grandmother Kane,
with some small leaning to cleverness, grappled manfully with vulgar
fractions, compound interest and the division of eight cakes among nine
r-hildreii.

"Grandmother," said William, kindly but firmly, when she.  had failed to
find the answer to his latest conundrum, "you can buy me a slide-rule;
then I won't have to bother you." She was astonished at her grandson's
precocity, but she bought him one just the same, wondering if he really
knew how to use the gadget.  It was the first time in her life that
Grandmother Kane had been known to take the easy way Out of any problem.

Richard's problems began to gravitate eastwards.  The chairman of his
London branch died at his desk and Richard felt himself required in
Lombard Street.  He suggested to Anne that she and William should
accompany him to Europe, feeling that the education would not do the boy
any harm: he could visit all the places about which Mr.  Munro had so
often talked.  Anne, who had never been to Europe, was excited by the
prospect, and filled three steamer trunks with elegant and expensive new
clothes in which to confront the Old World.  William considered it
unfair of his mother not to allow him to take that equally essential aid
to travel, his bicycle.

The Kanes travelled to New York by train to join the Aquitania bound for
her voyage to Southampton.  Anne was a app ]led by the sight of the
immigrant street peddlers pushing their wares, and shewas glad to be
safely on board and resting in her cabin.  William, on the other hand,
was amazed by the size of New York; he had, until that moment, always
imagined that his father's bank was the biggest building in America, if
not the world.  He wanted to buy a pink and yellow ice cream from a man
all dressed in white and wearing a boater, but his father would not hear
of it; in any case, Richard never carried small change.

William adored the greatvessel on sight and quickly became friendly with
the captain, who showed him all the secrets of the Cunard Steamships'
prima donna., Richard and Anne, who naturally sat at the captain's
table, felt it necessary, before the ship had long left America, to
apologise for the amount of the crew's time that their son was
occupying.

"Not at all," replied the white-bearded skipper.. "William and I are
already good friends.  I only wish I could answer all his questions
about time, speed and distance.  I have to be coached each night by the
first engineer in the hope of first anticipating and then surviving the
next day."

The Aquitanz "a sailed into the Solent to dcck at Southampton after a
six-day journey.  William was reluctant to leave her, and tears would
have been unavoidable had it not been for the magnificent sight of the
Rolls-Royce Silver C'.Iiost, waiting at the quayside complete with a
chauffeur, ready to whisk them off to London.  Richard decided on the
spur of the moment that he would have the car transported back to New
York at the end of the trip, which was the most out-of-character
decision he made during the rest of his life.  He informed Anne, rather
unconvincingly, that he wanted to show the vehicle to Henry Ford.

The Kane family always stayed at the Ritz in Piccadilly when they were
in London, which was convenient for Richard's office in the City.  Anne
used the time while Richard was occupied at the bank to show William the
Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and the Changing of the- Guard.
William thought everything was "greae except the English accent which he
had difficulty in understanding.

"Why don't they talk like us, Mommy?" he demanded, and was surprised to
be told that the question was more often put the other way around, as
'they' came first.  William's favourite pastime was to watch the
soldiers in their bright red uniforms with large shiny brass buttons who
kept guard duty outside Buckingham Palace.  He tried to engage them in
conversation but they stared past him into space and never even blinked.

"Can we take one home?" he asked his mother.

"No, darling, they have to stay here and guard the King.. "But he's got
so many of them, can't I have just one?" As a "special treat' - Anne's
words - Richard allowed himself an afternoon off to take his wife and
son to the West End to see a traditional English pantomime called ck and
the Beanstalk la in at the London H' odrome.

William loved Jack and immediately wanted to cut down every tree he laid
his eyes on, imagining them all to be sheltering a monster.  They had
tea after the show at Fortntiiii and Mason in Piccadilly, and Anne let
William have two cream buns and a newfangled thing called a doughnut.
Daily thereafter William had to be escorted back to the tearoom at
Fortnum's to consume another "doughbun', as he called them.

The holiday passed by all too quickly for William and hi mother, whereas
Richard, satisfied with his progress in Lombard Street and pleased with
his newly appointed chairman, began to look forward to the day of their
departure.

Cables were daily arriving from Boston that made him anxious to be back
in his own boardroom.  Finally, when on( such missive informed him that
twenty-five thousand workers at a cotton mill with which his bank had a
heavy investment in Lawrence, Massachusetts, had gone out on strike, he
was relieved that his planned date of sailing was now only three days
away.

William was looking forward to returning and telling Mr.  Munro all the
exciting things he had done in England and to being reunited with his
two grandmothers again.  He felt sure they had never done anything so
exciting as visiting a real live theatre with the general public.  Anne
was also happy to be going home, although she had enjoyed the trip
almost as much as William, for her clothes and beauty had been much
admired by the normally undemonstrative North Sea Islanders.  As a final
treat for William the day before they were due to sail, Anne took him to
a tea party in Eaton Square given by the wife of the newly appointed
chairman of Richard's London branch.

She, too, had a son, Stuart, who was eight - and William had, in the two
weeks in which they had been playing together, grown to regard him as an
indispensable grown-up friend.  The party, however, was rather subdued
because Stuart felt unwell and William, in sympathy with his new chum,
announced to his mother that he was going to be ill too.  Anne and
William returned to the Ritz Hotel earlier than they had planned.

She %,as not greatly put out as it gave her a little more time to
stir)ervise the packing of the large steamer trunks, although she was
convinced William was only putting on an ,-t to please Stuart.  When she
tucked William up in bed that night, she found that he had been as good
as his word iikd was running a slight fever.  She remarked on it to
Rlcliard over dinner.

"Probably all the excitement at the thought of going home," he offered,
sounding unconcerned.

"I hope so," replied Anne.. "I don't want him to be sick on i six-day
sea voyage."

"He'll be just fine by tomorrow." said Richard, issuing an unheeded
directive, but when Anne went to wake William the next morning, she
found him covered in little red spots and running a temperature of one
hundred and three.  The hotel doctor diagnosed measles and was politely
insistent that William should on no account be sent on a sea journey)
not only for his own good but for the sake of the other passengers.
There was nothing for it but to leave him in bed with his stone hot
water bottle and wait for the departure of the next ship.  Richard was
unable to countenance the three-week delay and decided to sail as
planned.  Reluctantly, Anne allowed the hurried changes of booking to be
made.  William begged his father to let him accompany him: the
twenty-one days before the Aquitania was due back in Southampton seemed
like an eternity to the child.  Richard was adamant, and hired a nurse
to attend William and convince him of his poor state of health.

Anne travelled down to Southampton with Richard in the new Rolls-Royce.

"I shall be lonely in London without you, Richard," she ventured
diffidently in their parting moment, risking his disapproval of
emotional women.

"Well, my dear, I dare say that I shall be somewhat lonely in Boston
without you," he said, his mind on the striking cotton workers.

Anne returned to London on the train, wondering how she would occupy
herself for the next three weeks.  William had a better night and in the
morning the spots looked less ferocious. Doctor and nurse were unanimous
however in their insistence that he should remain in bed.  Anne used the
extra time to write long letters to the family, while Williari,.
remained in bed, protesting, but on Thursday morning he got himself up
early and went into his mother's room, very much back to his normal
self.  He climbed into bed next to her and his cold hands immediately
woke her up.  Anne was relieved to see him so obviously fully recovered.
She railg t,) order breakfast in bed for both of them, an indulgence
William's father would never have countenanced.

There was a quiet knock on the door and a man in gold and red livery
entered with a large, silver breakfast tray' Eggs, bacon, tomato, toast
and marmalade - a veritable feast.  William looked at the food
ravenously as if he could not remember when he had last eaten a full
meal.  Anne casually glanced at the morning paper.  Richard always read
The Times when he stayed in London so the management assumed she would
require it as well.

"Oh, look," said William, staring at the photograph on an inside page,
'a picture of Daddy's ship.  What's a CALAMITY  Mommy?"

All across the width of the newspaper was a picture of the Titanic.

Anne, unmindful of behaving as should a Lowell or a Cabot, burst into
frenzied tears, clinging on to her only son.

They sat in bed for several minutes, holding on to each other, William
wasn't sure why.  Anne realised that they had both lost the one person
whom they had loved most in the world.

.  Sir Piers Campbell, young Stuart's father, arrived almost immediately
at Suite 107 of the Ritz Hotel.  He waited in the lounge while the widow
put on a suit, the only dark piece of clothing she possessed.  William
dressed himself, still not certain what a "calamity' was.  Anne asked
Sir Piers to explain the full implications of the news to her son, who
only said. "I wanted to be on the ship with him, but they wouldn't let
me go." He didn't cry because he refused to belie%,e anything could kill
his father.  He would be among the SUIAII\Iors.

In all Sir Piers' career as a politician, diplomat and now (,Iiairman of
Kane and Cabot, London, he, had never seen such self-containment in one
so young.  Presence is given to ,t-,rv few, he was heard to remark some
years later.

It had rd Kane and had been passed on to his I)ecn given to Richa only
son.

"Flie lists of survivors, arriving spasmodically from Arnerine.  Each
con("I' were Checked and double-checked by An firmed that Richard Lowell
Kane was still missing at sea, I)restimed drowned.  After a further week
even William aliiiost abandoned hope of his father's survival.

Anne found it hard to board the Aquitania, but William ould was
strangely eager to put to sea.  Hour after hour, he w it on the
observation deck, scanning the featureless ater.

"Tomorrow I will find him," he promised his mother at f I rst
confidently, and then in a voice that barely disclaimed i i is own
disbelief.

"William, no one can survive for three weeks in the Atlantic."

"Not even my father?"

"Not even your father."

When Anne returned to Boston, both grandmothers were kvaiting for her at
the Red I-louse, mindful of the duty that had been thrust upon them- The
responsibility had been passed back to the grandmothers.  Anne passively
accepted their proprietary role.  Life for her now had little purpose
left other than William) whose destiny they now seemed determined to
control.  William was polite but uncooperative.  During the day he sat t
into silently in his lesson with Mr.  Munro and at night in the lap of
his mother.

"What he needs is the company of other children)' declared the
grandmothers briskly, and they dismissed Mr. Munro and the nurse and
sent William off to Sayre Academy in the hope that an introduction to
the real world and the constant company of other children might bring
him baci t(, his old self.

Richard had left the bulk of his estate to William, to re main in the
family trust until his twenty-first birthday.

There was a codicil added to the will.  Richard expected his son to
become chairman of Kane and Cabot on merit.

l was the only part of his father's testament that inspired W'I Iliam,
for the rest was his by birthright.  Anne received a capital sum of five
hundred thousand dollars and an income for life of one hundred thousand
dollars a year after taxes which would cease, if she remarried.  She
also received the house on Beacon Hill, the summer mansion on the North
Shore, the home in Maine, and a small island off Cape Cod, all of which
were to pass to William on his mother's death.  Both grandmothers
received two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and letters leaving
them in no doubt about their responsibility if Richard died before them.
The family trust was to be handled by the bank, with William's
godparents acting as co-trustees.  The income from the trust was to be
reinvested each year in conservative enterprises.

It was a full year before the grandmothers came out Of mourning, and
although Anne was still only twenty-eight, she looked her age for the
first time in her life.

The grandmothers, unlike Anne, concealed their grief from William until
he finally reproached them for it.

"Don't you miss my father?" he asked, gazing at Grandmother Kane with
the blue eyes that brought back memories of her own son.

"Yes, my child, but he would not have wished us to sit around and feel
sorry for ourselves."

"But I want us to always remember him - always," said William, his voice
cracking.

"William, I am going to speak to you for the first time as though you
were quite grown up.  We will always keep his memory hallowed between
us, and you shall play your own part by living up to what your father
would have expected of you.  You are the head of the family now and the
heir to a large fortune.  You must, therefore, prepare yourself ork to
be fit for that inheritance in the same spirit i!  trough w it which
your father worked to increase the inheritance for

\ )tl." William made no reply.  He was thus provided with the oli%le for
life which he had IoLcked before, and he acted i,)oti his grandmother's
advice.  He learned to live with his d from that moment on he lrl,()W
without complaining an work at school, satisfied Ll'e-W himself
steadfastly into his i'lly if Grandmother Kane seemed impressed.  At no
subject d .  id he fail to excel, and in mathematics he was not only top
of his class but far ahead of his years.  Anything his father had
achieved, he was determined to better.  The grew even (loser to his
mother and be-came suspicious of anyone who % as not family, SO that he
was often thought of as a solitary Child, a loner and, unfairly, as a
snob.  th birthday The grandmothers decided on William's seven he value
of that the time had come to instruct the boy in t money.  They
therefore allowed him pocket money Of one dollar a week, but insisted
that he keep an inventory accounting for every cent he had spent.  With
this ill mind, they presented him with a green leather-bound ledger
book, cost of ninety-five cents, which they deducted from his at a ance
of One dollar.  From the second week first week's allow day mornthe
grandmothers divided the dollar every Satur ing.  William invested fifty
cents, spent twenty cents, gaveten cents to any charity of his choice,
and kept twenty cents in reserve.  At the erd of each quarter the
grandmothers would inspect the ledger and his written report on any
transactions.  When the first three months had passed, William was well
ready to account for himself.  He had given one oy Scouts of dollar
twenty cents to the newly founded B .  had asked i ' which he America,
and saved four dollars,   at the Grandmother Kane to invest in a savings
account bank of his godfather, J.  P.  Morgan.  He had spent a further
three dollars eight cents for which he did not have to aC, reserve.  The
ledger was a count and had kept a dollar in source of great satisfaction
to the grandmothers, there was no doubt William was the son of Richard
Kane.

At school, William made few friends, partly because he was shy of mixing
with anyone other than Cabots, Lowells or children from families
wealthier than his own.  This restricted his choice severely, so he
became a somewhat broody child, which worried his mother, who wanted
William to lead a more normal existence, and did not in her heart
approve of the ledgers or the investment programme.  Anne would have
preferred William to have a lot of young friends rather than old
advisors, to get himself dirty and bruised rather than remain spotless,
to collect toads and turtles rather than stocks and company reports; in
short to be like any other little boy.  But she never had the courage to
tell the grandmothers about her misgivings and in any case the
grandmothers were not interested in any other little boy.

On his ninth birthday William presented the ledger to his grandmothers
for the second annual inspection.  The green leather book showed a
saving during the two years of more than fifty dollars.  He was
particularly proud to point out an entry marked B6 to the grandmothers,
showing that he had taken his money out of J.  P.  Morgan's Bank
immediately on hearing of the death of the great financier, because he
had noted that his own father's bank shares had fallen in value after
his death had been announced.  He had reinvested the same amount three
months later before the public realised the company was bigger than any
one man.

The grandmothers were suitably impressed and allowed William to trade in
his old bicycle and purchase a new one, after which he still had a
capital sum of over one hundred dollars, which his grandmother had
invested for him with the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey.  Oil, said
William knowingly, can only get more expensive.  He kept the ledger
meticulously up-to-date until his twenty-first birthday.  Had the
grandmothers still been alive then, they would have been proud of the
final entry in the right hand column marked "assets'.

6o Wladek was the only one of those left alive who knew the dungeons
well. In his days of hide and seek with Leon he had spent many happy
hours in the freedom of the small stone rooms, carefree in the knowledge
that he could return to the castle whenever it suited him.

There were in all four dungeons, on two levels.  Two of the rooms, a
larger and a smaller one, were at ground level.  The smaller one was
adjacent to the castle wall, which afforded a thin filter of light
through a grille set high in the stones.  Down five steps there were two
more stone rooms in perpetual darkness and with little air.  Wladek led
the Baron into the small upper dungeon where he remained sitting in a
corner, silent and motionless, staring fixedly into space; he then
appointed Florentyna to be his personal servants As Wladek was the only
person who dared to remain in the same room as the Baron, the servants
never questioned his authority.  Thus, at the age of nine, he took
charge of the day-to-day responsibility of his fellow prisoners.  And in
the dungeon he became their master.  He split the remaining twenty-four
servants into three groups of eight, trying to keep families together
wherever possible.  He moved them regularly in a shift system, the first
eight hours in the upper dungeons for light, air, food and exercise; the
second and most popular shift of eight hours working in the castle for
their captors; and the final eight hours given to steep in one of the
lower dungeons.  No one except the Baron and Florentyna could be quite
sure when Wladek slept, is he was always there at the end of every shift
to supervise the servants moving on.  Food was distributed every twelve
hours.  The guards would hand over a skin of goats' milk, black bread,
millet and occasionally some nut-, which Wladek would divide by
twenty-eight, always giving two portions to the Baron without ever
letting him know.  The new occupants of the dungeons, their placidity
rendered into miserable stupefaction by incarceration, found nothing
strange in a situation that had put a nine-year-old in control of their
lives.

Once Wladek had each shift organised, he would return to the Baron in
the smaller dungeon.  Initially he expected guidance from him, but the
fixed gaze of his master was as implacable and comfortless in its own
way as were the eyes of the constant succession of German guards.  The
Baron had never once spoken from the moment he had been subjected to
captivity in his own castle.  His beard had grown long and matted on his
chest and his strong frame was beginning to dwindle into frailty.  The
once proud look had been replaced with one of resignation.  Wladek could
scarcely remember the well-loved voice of his patron, and accustomed
himself to the thought that he would never hear it again.  After a
while, he complied with the Baron's unspoken wishes by remaining silent
in his presence.

When he had lived in the safety of the castle, Wladek had never thought
of the previous day with so much occupying him from hour to hour.  Now
he was unable to remember even the previous hour, because nothing ever
changed.  Hopeless minutes turned into hours, hours into days, and then
months that he soon lost track of.  Only the arrival of food, darkness
or light indicated that another twelve hours had passed, while the
intensity of that light, and its eventual giving way to storms, and then
ice forming on the dungeon walls, melting only when a new sun appeared,
heralded each season in a manner that Wladek could never have learned
from a nature study lesson.  During the long nights Wladek became even
more aware of the stench of death that permeated even the farthest
corners of the four dungeons, alleviated occasionally by the morning
sunshine, a cool breeze, or the most blessed relief of all, the return
of rain.

At the end of one day of unremitting storms, Wladek and Florentyna took
advantage of the rain by washing themselves in a puddle of water which
formed on the stone floor of the upper dungeon.  Neither of them noticed
that the liaron's eyes were following Wladek with interest as he removed
his tattered shirt and rolled over like a dog in the relatively clean
water, continuing to rub himself until white streaks appeared on his
body.  Suddenly, the Baron spoke.

"Wladek' - the word was barely audible . "I cannot see you clearly," he
said, the voice cracking.. "Come here." .  Wladek was stupefied by the
sound of his patron's voice after so long a silence and didn't even look
in his direction.  lfe was immediately sure that it heralded the
incipience of the madness which already held two of the older servants
in its grip.

"Come here, boy."

Wladek obeyed fearfully, and stood before the Baron, who narrowed his
enfeebled eyes in a gesture of intense concentration as he groped
towards the boy.  He ran his finger over Wladek's chest and then peered
at him incredulously.

"Wladek, can you explain this small deformity?"

"No, sir," said Wladek, feeling embarrassed.. "It has been with me since
birth.  My foster-mother used to say it was the mark of God the Father
upon me."

"Stupid woman.  It is the mark of your own father," the Baron said
softly, and lapsed into silence for some minutes.

Wladek remained standing in front of him, not moving a muscle.

When at last the Baron spoke again, his voice was brisk.

"Sit down, boy."

Wladek obeyed immediately.  As he sat down, he noticed once again the
heavy band of silver, now hanging loosely round the Baron's wrist.  A
shaft of light through a crack in the wall made the magnificent
engraving of the Rosnovski coat of arms glitter in the darkness of the
dungeon.

"I do not know how long the Germans intend to keep us locked up here.  I
thought at first that this war would be over in a matter of weeks.  I
was wrong, and we must now consider the possibility that it will
continue for a very long time.  With that thought in mind, we must use
our time more constructively as I know my life is nearing an end."

"No, no," Wladek began to protest, but the Baron continued as if he had
not heard him.

"Yours, my child, has yet to begin.  I will, therefore, undertake the
continuation of your education."

The Baron did not speak again that day.  It was as if He were
considering the implications of his pronouncement.

Thus Wladek gained his new tutor and as they neither possessed reading
nor writing material he was made to repeat everything the Baron said. He
was taugitt great tracts from the poems of Adam Mickiewicz and Jan
Kc>chanowski and long passages from the Aeneid.  In that austere
classroom Wiadek learned geography, mathematics and four languages:
Russian, German, French and English.  But his happiest moments were once
again when he was taught history.

The history of his nation through a hundred years of partition, the
disappointed hopes for a united Poland, the further anguish of the Poles
at Napoleon's crushing loss to Russia in 1812.  He leamt of the brave
tales of earlier and happier times, when King Jan Casimir had dedicated
Poland to the Blessed Virgin after repulsing the Swedes at Czestochowa,
and how the mighty Prince Rad7iwill, great landowner and lover of
hunting, had held his court in the great castle near Warsaw.  Wladek's
final lesson each day was on the family history of the Rosnovskis. Again
and again, he was told never tiring of the tale - how the Baron's
illustrious ancestor who had served in 1794 under General Dabrowski and
then in 1809 under Napoleon himself had been rewarded by the great
Emperor with land and a barony.  He also learned how the Baron's
grandfather had sat on the council of Warsaw and his father had played
his own part in building the new Poland.  Wladek found such happiness
when the Baron turned his little dungeon into a classroom.

The guards at the dungeon door were changed every four hours and
conversation between them and the prisoners was Cstren st verboten'.  In
snatches and fragments Wladek learned of the progress of the war, of the
actions of Hind'enburg and Ludendorff, of the rise of revolution in
Russia iiid of her subsequent withdrawal from the war by the -eaty of
Brest-Litovsk.

Wiadek began to believe that the only escape from the ,,ngeons for the
inmates was death.  The doors opened nine times during the next two
years and Wladek started to wonder if he was destined to spend the rest
of his days in that itithy hell-hole, fighting a vain battle against
despair, while (,(Iuipping himself with a mind of useless knowledge that
Ould never know freedom.

The Baron continued to tutor him despite his progressively failing sight
and hearing.  Wladek had to sit closer and closer to him each day.

Florentyna - his sister, mother and closest friend - engaged in a more
physcial struggle against the rankness of their prison.  Occasionally
the guards would provide her with a fresh bucket of sand or straw to
cover the soiled floor, and the stench became a little less oppressive
for the next few days.  Vermin scuttled around in the darkness for any
dropped scraps of bread or potato and brought with them disease and
still more filth.  The sour smell of decomposed human and animal urine
and excrement assaulted their nosls and regularly brought Wladek to a
state of sickness and nausea.  He longed above all to be clean again,
and would sit for hours gazing at the dungeon ceiling, recalling the
steaming tubs of hot water and the good, rough soap with which the
niania had, so short a distance away and so long a time ago, washed the
accretion of a mere day's fun from Leon and himself, with many a
muttering and tut-tut for muddy knees or a dirty fingernail.

By the spring of 1918, only fifteen of the twenty-six captives who had
been incarcerated with Wladek in the dungeons were still alive.  The
Baron was always treated by everyone as the master, while Wladek had
become his acknowledged steward.  Wladek felt saddest for his beloved
Florentyna, now twenty.  She had long since despaired of life and was
convinced that she was going to spend her remaining days in the
dungeons.  Wladek never admitted in her presence to giving up hope, but
although he was only twelve, he too was beginning to wonder if he dared
believe in any future.

One evening, early in the autumn, Florentyna came to Wladek's side in
the larger dungeon.

"The Baron is calling for you."

Wladek rose quickly, leaving the allocation of food to a senior servant,
and went to the old man.  The Baron was in severe pain, and Wladek saw
with terribly clarity and - as though for the first time - how illness
had eroded whole areas of the Baron's flesh, leaving the green-mottled
skin covering a now skeletal face.  The Baron asked for water and
Florentyna brought it from the half-full mug that balanced from a stick
outside the stone grille.  When the great man had finished drinking, he
spoke slowly and with considerable difficulty.

"You have seen so much of death, Wladek, that one more will make little
difference to you.  I confess that I no longer fear escaping this
world."

"No, no, it can't be," cried Wladek, clinging on to the old man for the
first time in his life.. "We have so nearly triumphed, Don't give up,
Baron.  The guards have assured me that the war is coming to an end and
then we will soon be released."

"They have been promising us that for months, Wladek.  We cannot believe
them any longer, and in any case I fear I have no desire to live in the
new world they are creating." He paused as he listened to the boy
crying.  The Baron's only thought was to collect the tears as drinking
water, and then he.remembered that tears were saline and he laughed to
himself.

"Call for my butler and first footman, Wiadek."

Wladek obeyed immediately, not knowing why they should be required.

The two servants, woken from a deep sleep, came and stood in front of
the Baron.  After three years captivity sleep was the easiest commodity
to come by.  They still wore their embroidered uniforms, but one could
no longer tell that they had once been the proud Rosnovski colours of
green and gold.  They stood silently waiting for their master to speak.

"Are they there, Wladek?" asked the Baron.

"Yes, sir.  Can you not see them?" Wladek realised for the first time
that the Baron was now completely blind.

"Bring them forward so that I might touch them." Wladek brought the two
men to him and the Baron touched their faces.

"Sit down," he commanded.. "Can you both hear me, Ludwik, Alfons?"

"Yes, sir.. "My name is Baron Rosnovski.. "We know, sir," replied the
butler innocently.

"Do not interrupt me," said the Baron.. "I am about to die." Death had
become so common that the two men made no protest.

"I am unable to make a new will as I have no paper, quill, or ink.
Therefore I make my will in your presence and you can act as my two
witnesses as recognised by the ancient law of Poland.  Do you understand
what I am saying?"

"Yes, sir," the two men replied in unison.

"My first born son, Leon, is dead." The Baron paused.. "And so I leave
my entire estate and possessions to the boy known as Wladek Koskiewicz."

Wladek had not heard his surname for many years and did not immediately
comprehend the significance of the Baron's words.

"And as proof of my resolve," the Baron continued. "I give him the
family band."

The old man slowly raised his right arm, removed from his wrist the
silver band and held it forward to a speechless Wladek, whom he clasped
on to firmly, running his fingers over the boy's chest as if to be sure
that it was he.. "My son," he said, as he placed the silver band on the
boy's wrist.

Wladek wept, and lay in the arms of the Baron all night until he could
no longer hear his heart, and could feel the fingers stiffening around
him.  In the morning the Baron's body was removed by the guards and they
allowed Wladek to bury him by the side of his son, Leon, in the family
churchyard, up against the chapel.  As the body was lowered into its
shallow grave, dug by Wladek's bare hands, the Baron's tattered shirt
fell open.  Wladek stared at the dead man's chest.

He had only one nipple.

Thus Wladek Koskiewicz, aged twelve, inherited sixty thousand acres of
land, one castle, two manor houses, tweritvseven cottages, and a
valuable collection of paintings, furn'iture and jewelry, while he lived
in a small stone room under the earth.  From that day on, the captives
took him as their rightful Star and his empirt ,zs i@

, aungys, his Tt-finue thirteen broken servants and his only love
Ylorenyna.

He returned to what he felt was now an endless routine until long into
the winter of 1918.  On a mild, dry day there burst upon the prisoners'
ears a volley of shots and the sound of a brief struggle.  Wladek was
sure that the Polish army had come to rescue him and that he would now
be able to lay claim to his rightful inheritance.  When the German
guards deserted the iron door of the dungeons, the inmates remained in
terrified silence huddled in the lower rooms.  Wladek stood alone at the
entrance, twisting the silver band around his wrist, triumphant, waiting
for his liberators.  Eventually those who had defeated the Germans
arrived and spoke in the coarse Slavic tongue, familiar from school
days, which he had learned to fear even more than German.  Wladek was
dragged unceremoniously out into the passage with his retinue.  The
prisoners waited, then were cursorily inspected and thrown back into the
dungeons, The new conquerors were unaware that this twelve-year-old boy
was the master of all their eyes beheld.

They did not speak his tongue.  Their orders were clear and not to be
questioned : kill the enemy if they resist the agreement of
BrestLitovsk, which made this section of Poland theirs and send those
who do not resist to camp 201 for the rest of their days.  The Germans
had left meekly to retreat behind their new

13order while Wladek and his followers waited, hopeful of a new life,
ignorant of their impending fate.

After spending two more nights in the dungeons, Wla(ick resigned himself
to believing that they were to be incarcerated for another long spell.
The new guards did not speak to him at all, a reminder to him of what
life had been like three years before; he began to realise that
discipline had at least become lax under the Germans but once again N,as
tight.

On the morning of the third day, -.nuch to Wladek's surpi-ise, they were
all dragged out on to the grass in front of tl,ie castle, fifteen thin
filthy bodies.  Two of the servants collapsed in the unaccustomed
sunlight.  Wladek himself found the intense brightness his biggest
problem and kept having to shield his eyes from it.  The prisoners stood
in silence on the grass and waited for the soldiers' next move.  The
guards made them all strip and ordered them down to the river to wash.
Wladek hid the silver band in his clothes and ran down to the water's
edge, his legs feeling weak even before he reached the river.  He jumped
in, gasping for breath at the coldness of the water, although it felt
glorious on his skin.  The rest of the prisoners followed him, and tried
vainly to remove three years of filth.

When Wladek came out of the river exhausted, he noticed that some of the
guards were looking strangely at Florentyna as she washed herself in the
water.  They were laughing and pointing at her.  The other women did not
seem to arouse the same degree of interest.  One of the guards, a large
ugly man whose eyes had never left Florentyna for a moment, grabbed her
arm as she passed him on her way back up the river bank, and threw her
to the ground.

He then started to take his clothes off quickly, hungrily, while at the
same time folding them neatly on the grass.

Wladek stared in disbelief at the man's swollen erect penis and flew at
the soldier, who was now holding Florentyiia down on the ground, and hit
him in the middle of his stomach with his head with all the force he
could muster.  The man reeled back, and a second soldier jumped up and
held Wladek helpless with his hands pinned behind his back.  The
commotion attracted the attention of the other guards, and they strolled
over to watch.  Wladek's captor was now laughing, a loud belly laugh
with no humour in it.  The other soldiers' words only added to Wladek's
anguish

"Enter the great protector," said the first.

"Come to defend his nation's honour." The second one.

"Let's at least allow him a ringside view." The one who was holding him.

More laughter interspersed the remarks that Wladek couldn't always
comprehend.  He watched the naked soldier advance his hard, well-fed
body slowly towards Florentyna, who started screaming.  Once again
Wladek struggled, trying desperately to free himself from the vice-like
grip, but he was helpless in the arms of his guard.  The naked man fell
clumsily on top of Florentyna and started kissing her and slapping her
when she tried to fight or turn away; finally he lunged into her.  She
let out a scream such as Wladek had never heard before.  The guards
continued talking and laughing among themselves, some not even watching.

"Goddamn virgin," said the first soldier as he withdrew himself from
her.

They all laughed.

"You've just made it a little easier for me," said the second guard.

More laughter.  As Florentyna stared into Wladek's eyes, he began to
retch.  The soldier holding on to him showed little interest, other than
to be sure that none of the boy Is vomit soiled his uniform or boots.
The first soldier, his penis now covered in blood, ran down to the
stream, yelling as he hit the water.  The second man undressed, while
yet another held Florentyna down.  The second guard took a little longer
over his pleasure, and seemed to gain considerable satisfaction from
hitting Florentyna; when he finally entered her, she screamed again but
not quite as loud.

"Come on, Valdi, you've had long enough."

With that the man came out of her suddenly and joined his
companion-at-arms in the stream.  Wladek made himself look at
Florentyna.  She was bruised and bleeding between the legs.  The soldier
holding him spoke again.

"Come and hold the little bastard, Boris, it's my turn." The first
soldier came out of the river and took hold of Wladek firmly.  Again he
tried to hit out, and this made them laugh even louder.

"Now we know the full might of the Polish army." The unbearable laughter
continued as yet another guard started undressing to take his turn with
Florentyna, who now lay indifferent to his charms.  When he had
finished, and had gone down to the river, the second soldier returned
and started putting on his clothes.

"I think she's beginning to enjoy it," he said, as he sat in the sun
watching his companion.  The fourth soldier began to advance on
Florentyna.  When he reached her, he turned her over, forced her legs as
wide apart as possible, his large hands moving rapidly over her frail
body.  The scream when he entered her had now turned into a groan.

Wladek counted sixteen soldiers who raped his sister.  When the last
soldier,had finished with her, he swore and then added. "I think I ve
made love to a dead woman," and left her motionless on the grass.

They all laughed even more loudly, as the disgruntled soldier walked
down to the river.  At last Wladek's guard released him.  He ran to
Florentyna's side, while the soldiers lay on the grass drinking wine and
vodka taken from the Baros cellar, and eating the bread from the
kitchens.

With the help of two of the servants, Wladek carried Florentyna's light
body to the edge of the river, weeping as he tried to wash away her
blood and bruises.  It was useless, for she was black and red all over,
insensible to help and unable to speak.  When Wladek had done the best
he could he covered her body with his jacket and held her in his arms.
He kissed her gently on the mouth, the first woman he had ever kissed.
She lay in his arms, but he knew she did not recognise him, and as the
tears ran down his face on to her bruised body, he felt her go limp.  He
wept as he carried her dead body up the bank.  The guards went silent as
they watched him walk towards the chapel.  He laid her down o'n the
grass beside the Baron's grave and started digging with his bare hands.
When the sinking sun had caused the castle to cast its long shadow over
the graveyard, he had finished digging.  He buried Florentyna next to
Leon and made a little cross with two sticks which he placed at her
head.  Wladek collapsed on the ground between Leon and Florentyna, and
fell asleep, caring not if he ever woke again.

William returned to Sayre Academy in September and immediately began to
look for competition among those older than himself.  Whatever he took
up, he was never satisfied unless he excelled in it, and his
contemporaries almost always proved too weak an opposition.  William
began to realise that most of those from backgrounds as privileged as
his own lacked any incentive to compete, and that fiercer rivalry was to
be found from boys who had, compared with himself, relatively little.

In 1915, a craze for collecting match-box labels hit Sayre Academy.
William observed this frenzy for a week with great interest but did not
join in.  Within a few days, common labels were changing hands at a
dime, while rarities commanded as much as fifty cents.  William
considered the situation and decided to become not a collector, but a
dealer.

On the following Saturday, be went to Leavitt and Pearce, one of the
largest tobacconists in Boston, and spent the afternoon taking down the
names and addresses of all the major match-box manufacturers throughout
the world, making a special note of those who were not at war.  He
invested five dollars in notepaper, envelopes and stamps, and wrote to
the chairman or president of every company he had listed.  His letter
was simple despite having been rewritten seven times.

or Mr.  President, Dear Mr.  Chairman I am a dedicated collector of
match-box label s, but I cannot afford to buy all the matches.  My
pocket money is only one dollar a week, but I enclose a three-cent stamp
for postage to prove that I am serious about my hobby.  I am sorry to
bother you personally, but yours was the only name I could find to write
to.

Your friend, William Kane (aged 9)

P.S.  Yours are one of my favourites.

Within three weeks, William had a fifty-five percent reply which yielded
one hundred and seventy-eight different labels.  Nearly all his
correspondents also returned the threecent stamp, as William had
anticipated they would.  market in During the next seven days, William
set up a m labels within the school, always checking what he could sell
at even before he had made a purchase.  He noticed that some boys showed
no interest in the rarity of the match-box label, only in its looks, and
with them he made quick exchanges to obtain rare trophies for the more
discerning collectors.

After a further two weeks of buying and selling he sensed that the
market was reaching its zenith and that if he were not careful, with the
holidays fast approaching, interest might begin to die off.  With much
trumpeted advance publicity in the form of a printed handout which cost
him a further half cent a sheet, placed on every boy's desk, William
announced that he would be holding an auction of his match-box labels,
all two hundred and eleven of them.  The auction took place in the
school washroom during the lunch hour and was better attended than most
school hockey games.

The result was that William netted fifty-seven dollars thirty-two cents,
a profit of fifty-two dollars thirty two cents on his original
investment.  William put twenty-five dollars on deposit with the bank at
two and a half percent, bought himself a camera for eleven dollars, gave
five dollars to the Young Men's Christian Association, who had broadened
their activities to help the new flood of immigrants, bought his mother
some flowers, and put the remaining few dollars into his pocket.  The
market in match-box labels collapsed even before the school term ended.
It was to be the first of many such occasions that William got out at
the top of the market.  The grandmothers would have been proud of him;
it was not unlike the way their husbands had made their fortunes in the
panic of 1873.

When the holidays came, William could not resist finding out if it was
possible to obtain a better return on his invested capital than the two
and a half percent yielded by his savings account.  For the next three
months he invested - again through Grandmother Kane - in stocks highly
recommended by the Wall Street journal During the next term at school he
lost over half of the money he had made on the match-box labels.  It was
the only time in his life that he relied on the expertise of the Wall
Street journal, or on information available at any street corner.

Angry with his loss of over twenty dollars William decided that it must
be recouped during the Easter holidays.

On arriving home he worked out which parties and functions his mother
would expect him to attend, and found he was left with only fourteen
free days, just enough time for his new venture.  He sold all his
remaining Wall Street journal shares, which netted Mm only twelve
dollars.

With this money he bought hiznself a flat piece of wood, two sets of
wheels, axles and a piece of rope, at a cost, after some bargaining, of
five dollars.  He then put on a flat cloth cap and an old suit he had
outgrown and went off to the local railroad station.  He stood, outside
the exit, looking hungry and tired, informing selected travellers that
the main hotels in Boston were near the railroad station, so that there
only surviving hansom carriage as he, William, could carry their luggage
on his moving six hours a day, he found he could make roughly f dollars.

Five days before the new school term was due to start nd a further the
original losses a he had made back all his   )ei drivers wer dollars
profit.  He then hit a problem.  Theta red them that starting to get
annoyed with him.  William assu he would retire, aged nine, if each one
of them would giv him fifty cents to cover the cost of his home-made
trolley they agreed, and he made another eight dollars fifty cen on the
way home to Beacon Hill) William sold his troll for five dollars to a
school friend two years his senior, wh was soon to discover that the
market had passed its Pe moreover, it rained for every day of the
following week on the last day of the holidays, William put his mo back
on deposit in the bank, at two and a half per cen During the following
term this decision caused rn anxiety as be watched his savings rise
steadily.  The Si of the Lusitania and Wilson's declaration of war again
Germany in April of 1917 didt concern William. Nothing and no one could
ever beat America, he assured his moth William even invested ten dollars
in Liberty Bonds to b his judgment.    credit column of By William's
eleventh birthday the dred and twel ledger book showed a profit of four
him dollars.  He had given his mother a fountain Pen and his
grandmothers brooches from a local jeweller shop T fountain pen was a
Parker arid the jewellery arrived at grandmothers' homes in Shreve,
Crump and Low b which he had found after much searching in the dustb
behind the famous store.  To do the boy ' justice, he had wanted to
cheat his grandmothers but he had alrea learned from his matchbox label
experience that go packaging sells products."Yhe gTant'rnotlle-"!" who
noted missing Shreve, Crump and Low hallmark still wore brooches with
considerable pride.  follow William's ev The two old ladies continued to
at when he reached the age in Concord, New Hampshire.  For good measure
the boy re' warded them with the top mathematics scholarship,
unnecessarily saving the family some three hundred dollars a year.
William accepted the scholarship and the grandmothers returned the money
for, as they expressed it, "a less fortunate child'.  Anne hated the
thought of William leaving her to go away to boarding school, but the
grandmothers insisted and, more importantly, she knew it was what
Richard would have wanted.  She sewed on William's name tapes, marked
his boots, checked his clothes, and finally packed his trunk refusing
any help from: the servants.  When the time came for William to go his
mother asked him how much pocket money he would like for the new term
ahead of him.

"None," he replied without further comment.

William kissed his mother on the cheek; he had no idea how much she was
going to miss him.  He marched off down the path, in his first pair of
long trousers, his hair cut very short, carrying a small suitcase
towards Roberts, the chauffeur.  He climbed into the back of the
Rolls-Royce and it drove him away.  He didn't look back.  His mother
waved and waved, and later cried.  William wanted to cry too, but he
knew his father would not have approved.

The first thing that struck William Kane as strange about his new prep
school was that the other boys did not care who he was.  The looks of
admiration, the silent acknowledgment of his presence were no longer
there.  One older boy actually asked his name, and what was worse, when
told, was not manifestly impressed.  Some even called him Bill which he
soon corrected with the explanation that no one had ever referred to his
father as Dick.

William's new domain was a small room with wooden book-shelves, two
tables, two chairs, two beds and a comfortably shabby leather settee.
The other chair, table and bed were occupied by a boy from New York
called Matthew Lester, whose father was also in banking.

William soon became used to the school routine.  Up at seven thirty,
wash, breakfast in the main dining room, with the whole school - two
hundred and twenty boys munching their way through eggs, bacon and
porridge.  After breakfast, chapel, three fifty-minute classes before
lunch and two after it, followed by a music lesson which William
detested because he could not sing a note in tune and he had even less
desire to learn to play any musical instrument.  Football in the autumn,
hockey and squash in the winter, and rowing and tennis in the spring
left him with very little free time.  As a mathematics scholar, William
had special tutorials in "he subject three times a week from his
housemaster, G.  Raglan, Esquire, known to the boys as Grumpy.

During his first year, William proved to be well worthy of his
scholarship, among the top few boys in almost every subject, and in a
class of his own in mathematics.  Only his new friend, Matthew Lester,
was any real competition for him, and that was almost certainly because
they shared the same room.  While establishing himself academically
William also acquired a reputation as a financier.  Although his first
investment in the market had proved disastrous, he did not abandon his
belief that to make a significant amount of money, sizeable capital
gains on the stock market were essential.  He kept a wary eye on the
Wall Street Journal, company reports and, at the age of twelve, started
to experiment with a ghost portfolio of investments.  He recorded every
one of his ghost purchases and sales, the good and the not so-good in a
newly acquired, different coloured ledger book, and compared his
performance at the end of each month against the rest of the market.  He
did not bother with any of the leading listed stocks, concentrating
instead on the more obscure companies) some of which traded only over
the counter, so that it was impossible to buy more than a few shares in
them at any one time.

William expected four things from his investments: a low multiple of
earnings, a high growth rate, strong asset backing and a favourable
trading outlook.  He found few shares which fulfilled all these rigorous
criteria, but when he did, they almost invariably showed him a profit.

The moment he found that he was regularly beating the Dow-Jones Index
with his ghost investment programme, William knew he was ready to invest
his own money once again.  He started with one hundred dollars and never
stopped refining his method.  He would always follow profits an(i cut
losses.  Once a stock had doubled, he would sell half his holding but
keep the remaining half intact, trading the stock he still held as a
bonus.  Some of his early finds, such as Eastman Kodak and I.B.M., went
on to become national leaders.  He also backed the first mail order
company, convinced it was a trend that would catch on.

By the end of his first year he was advising half the school staff and
some of the parents.  William Kane was happy at school.

Anne Kane had been unhappy and lonely at home with William away at St.
Paul's and a family circle consisting only of the two grandmothers, now
approaching old age.  She was miserably conscious that she was past
thirty, and that her smooth and youthful prettiness had disappeared
without leaving much in its place.  She started picking up the threads,
severed by Richard's death, with some of her old friends.  John and
Milly Preston, William's godmother, whom she had known all her life,
began inviting her to dinners and the theatre, always including an extra
man, trying to make a match for Anne.  The Preston's choices were almost
always atrocious, and Anne used privately to laugh at Milly's attempts
at match-making until one day in January 1919, just after William had
returned to school for the winter term, Anne was invited to yet another
dinner for four.  Milly confessed she had never met her other guest,
Henry Osborne, but that they thought he had been at Harvard at the same
time as John.

"Actually," confessed Milly over the phone. "John doesn't know much
about him, darling, except that he is rather good-looking."

.He arrived and he rose immediately to allow Milly to introduce them.  A
shade over six feet, with dark eyes, almost I,!ack, and straight black
hair, he was slim and athletic lookiig.  Anne felt a quick flash of
pleasure that she was paired for the evening with this energetic and
youthful man, while I\Iilly had to content herself with a husband, who
was showing signs of middle-age by comparison with his dashing college
contemporary.  Henry Osborne's arm was in a sling, almost completely
covering his Harvard tie.

"A war wound?" asked Anne sympathetically.

"No, I fell down the stairs the week after I got back from the Western
Front," he said, laughing.

It was one of those dinners, lately so rare for Anne, at which the time
at the table slipped by happily and unaccountably.  Henry Osborne
answered all Anne's inquisitive questions.  After leaving Harvard, he
had worked for a real estate management firm in Chicago, his home town,
but when the war came he couldn't resist having a go at the Germans.  He
had a fund of splendid stories about Europe and the life he had led
there as a young lieutenant preserving the honour of America on the
Marne., Milly and John had not seen Anne laugh so much since Richard's
death and smiled at one another knowingly when Henry asked if he might
drive her home.

"What are you going to do now that you've come back to a land fit for
heroes?" asked Anne, as Henry Osborne eased his Stutz out on to Charles
Street.

"Haven't really decided," he replied.. "Luckily, I have a little money
of my own, so I don't have to rush into anything.  Might even start my
own real estate firm right here in Boston.  I've always felt at home in
the city since my days at Harvard."

"You won't be returning to Chicago, then?"

"No, there's nothing to take me back there.  My parents are both dead,
and I was an only child, so I can start afresh anywhere I choose.  Where
do I turn?

"Oh first on the right," said Anne.

I

"You live on Beacon Hill?"

"Yes, About a hundred and fifty yards on the right hand side up Chestnut
and it's the red house on the come,- of Louisburg Square."

Henry Osborne parked the car and accompanied Anne to the front door of
her home.  After saying goodnight , He was gone almost before she had
time to thank him.  She watched his car glide slowly back down Beacon
Hill knowing that she wanted to see him again.  She was delighted,
though not entirely surprised, when he telephoned her the following
morning.

"Boston Symphony Orchestra, Mozart, and that flamboyant new fellow,
Mahler, next Monday - can I persuade you ?"

Anne was a little taken aback by the extent to which she looked forward
to Monday.  It seemed so long since a man whom she found attractive had
pursued her.  Henry Osborne arrived punctually for the outing, they
shook hands rather awkwardly, and he accepted a Scotch highball.

"It must be pleasant to live on Louisburg Square.  You're a lucky girl."

"Yes, I suppose so, I've never really given it much thought.  I was born
and raised on Commonwealth Avenue.

If anything, I find this slightly cramped."

"I think I might buy a house on the Hill myself if I do decide to settle
in Boston. "They don't come on the market all that often," said Anne,
'but you may be lucky.  Hadn't we better be going?

I hate being late for a concert and having to tread on other people's
toes to reach my seat."

Henry glanced at his watch.. "Yes I agree, wouldn't do to miss the
conductor's entrance, but you don't have to worry about anyone's feet
except mine.  We're on the aisle."

The cascades Of sumptuous music made it natural for Henry to take Anne's
arxn as they walked to the Ritz.  The only other person who had done
that since Richard's death had been William, and only after considerable
persuasion as he considered it sissy.  Once again the hours slipped by
for

8o Antic: was it the excellent food, or was it Henry's company?"

"I'lils time he made her laugh with his stories of Harvard and cry with
recollections of the war.  Although she was well aware that he looked
younger than herself, he had done so inuch with his life that she always
felt deliciously youthful and inexperienced in his company.  She told
him about her liusband's death, and cried a little more.  He took her
hand and she spoke of her son with glowing pride and affection.  The
said he had always wanted a son.  Henry scarcely mentioned Chicago or
his own home life but Anne felt sure that he must miss his family.  When
he took her home that night, he stayed for a quick drink and kissed her
gently .  on the cheek as he left.  Anne went back over the e tite by
minute before she fell asleep.    vening nunThey went to the theatre on
Tuesday, visited Anne's cottage on Cape Cod on Wednesday, gyrated to the
Grizzly I;ea .  r and the Temptation Rag on Thursday, shopped for
'antique s on Friday, and made love on Saturday.  After Sun(lay, they
were rarely apart.  Milly and John Preston were Absolutely delighted'
that their match-making had at last I)roved so successful. Milly went
around Boston telling everyone that she had been responsible for putting
the two of them together.

The announcement during that summer of the engageinent came as no
surprise to anyone except William.  He had disliked Henry intensely from
the day that Anne, with a Nvell-founded sense of misgiving, introduced
them to each other.  Their first conversation took the form of long
questions from Henry, trying to prove he wanted to be a friend, and
monosyllabic answers from William, showing that he didn't.  And he never
changed his mind.  Anne ascribed her son's resentment to an
understandable feeling of jealousy; William had been the centre of her
life since Richard's death.  Moreover, it was perfectly proper that in
William's estimation, no one could possibly take the place of his own
father.  Anne convinced Henry that given time William would get over his
sense of outrage.

Anne Kane became Mrs.  Henry Osborne in October of that year at the Old
North Church just as the golden and red leaves were beginning to fall, a
little over ten months after they had met.  William feigned illness in
order not to attend the wedding and remained firmly at school.  The
grandmothers did attend, but were unable to hide their disapproval of
Anne's remarriage, particularly to someone who appeared to be so much
younger than herself.. "It can only end in disaster," said Grandmother
Kane.

The newlyweds sailed for Greece the following day, and did not return to
the Red House on the Hill till the second week of December, just in time
to welcome William home for the Christmas holidays.  William was shocked
to find the house had been redecorated, leaving almost no trace of his
father.  Over Christmas, William's attitude to his step-father showed no
sign of softening despite the present as Henry saw it - bribe as William
construed it - of a new bicycle.  Henry Osborne accepted this rebuff
with surly resignation.  It saddened Anne that her splendid new husband
made so little effort to win over her son's affection.

William felt ill at ease in his invaded home and would often disappear
for long periods during the day.  Whenever Anne inquired where he was
going, she received little or no response: it certainly was not to the
grandmothers.  When the Christmas holidays came to an end, William was
only too happy to return to school and Henry was not sad to see him go.
Only Anne was u I neasy about both the men in her life. "Up, boy.  Up,
boy."

One of the soldiers was digging his rifle butt into Wladek's ribs.  He
sat up with a start and looked at the grave of his sister and those of
Leon and of the Baron, and he did not shed a single tear as he turned
towards the soldier.

"will live, you will not kill me," he said in Polish.. "This is my home,
and you are on my land."

The soldier spat on Wladek and pushed him back to the lawn where the
servants were waiting, all dressed in what looked like grey pyjamas with
numbers on their backs.  Wladek was horrified at the sight of them,
realising what was about to happen to him.

He was taken by the soldier to the north side of the castle and made to
kneel on the ground.  He felt a knife scrape across his head as his
thick black hair fell on to the grass.  With ten bloody strokes, like
the shearing of a sheep, the job was completed.  Shavenheaded) he was
ordered to put on his new uniform, a grey rubaskew shirt and trousers.
Wladek managed to keep the silver band well hidden and rejoined his
servants at the front of the castle.

While they all stood waiting on the grass - numbers nowy not names -
Wladek became conscious of a noise in the distance that he had never
heard before.  His eyes turned towards the menacing sound.  Through the
great iron gates came a vehicle moving on four wheels, but not drawn by
horses or oxen.  All the prisoners stared at the movinly object in
disbelief.  When it had come to a halt) the soldiers dragged the
reluctant prisoners towards it and made them climb aboard.  Then the
horseless wagon turned round, moved back down the path and through the
iron gates.  Nobody dared to speak.  Wladek sat at the rear of the truck
and stared at his castle until he could no longer see the Gothic
turrets.

The horseless wagon somehow drove itself towards Slonim.  Wladek would
have worried about how the vehicle worked if he had not been even more
worried about where it was taking them.  He began to recognise the roads
from his days at school, but his memory had been dulled by three years
in the dungeons, and he could not recall where the road finally led.
After only a few miles, the truck came to a stop and they were all
pushed out.  It was the local railway station.  Wladek had only seen it
once before in his life, when he and Leon had gone there to welcome the
Baron home from his trip to Warsaw.  He remembered the guard had saluted
them when they first walked on to the platform; this time no guard
saluted them.  The prisoners were fed on goats' milk, cabbage soup and
black bread, Wladek again taking charge, dividing the portions carefully
among the remaining fourteen.  He sat on a wooden bench, assuming that
they were waiting for a "jLnaT riient fney giept on The grouna'b6low the
stars, paradise conlrlarpd -wU the mild winter.

Morning came and still they waited.  Wladek made the servants take some
exercise but mosc collapsed after only a few minutes.  He began to make
a mental note of the names of those who had survived thus far.  Eleven
of the men and two of the women, spared from the original twentyseven in
the dungeons.  Spared for what?  he thought.  They spent the rest of the
day waiting for a train that never came.  Once, a train did arrive, from
which more soldiers disembarked, speaking their hateful tongue, but it
departed without Wladek's pitiful army.  They slept yet another night on
the platform.

Wladek lay awake below the stars considering how he might escape, but
during the night one of his thirteen made a run for it across the
railway track and was shot down by a guard even before he had reached
the other side.  Wladek gazed at the spot where his compatriot had
fallen, frightened to go to his aid for fear he would meet the same
fate.  The guards left the body on the track in the morning, as a
warning to those who might consider a similar course of action.

No one spoke of the incident the next day, although Wladek's eyes rarely
left the body of the dead man.  It was the Baron's butler, Ludwik  one
of the witnesses to the Baron's will, and his heritage - dead.

On the evening of the third day another train chugged into the station,
a great steam locomotive pulling open freight cars, the floors strewn
with straw and the word "cattle' painted on the sides.  Several cars
were already full, full of humans, but from where Wladek could not
judge, so hideously did their appearance resemble his own, He and his
band were thrown together into one of the cars to begin the journey.
After a wait of several more hours the train started to move Q

out of the station, in a direction which Wladek judged, from the setting
sun, to be eastward.

To every three carriages there was a guard sitting crosslegged on a
roofed car.  Throughout the interminable journey an occasional flurry of
bullet shots from above demonstrated to Wladek the futility of any
further thoughts of escape.

When the train stopped at Minsk , they were given their first proper
meal : black bread, water , nuts, and more millet, and then the journey
continued.  Sometimes they went for three days without seeing another
station.  Many of the reluctant travellers died of starvation and were
thrown overboard from the moving train.  And when the train did stop
they would often wait for two days to allow another train going west use
of the track.  These trains which delayed their progress were inevitably
full of soldiers, and it became obvious to Wladek that the troop trains
had priority over all other transport.  Escape was always uppermost in
Wladek's mind, but three things prevented him from advancing that
ambition.  First, no one had yet succeeded; second, there was nothing
but miles of wilderness on both sides of the track; and third, those who
had survived the dungeons were now totally dependent on him to protect
them.  It was Wladek who organised their food and drink, and tried to
give them all the will to live.

He was the youngest and the last one still to believe in life.

At night, it became bitterly cold, often thirty degrees below zero, and
they would all line up against each other in a line on the carriage
floor so that each body would keep the person next to him warm.  Wladek
would recite the Aeneid to himself while he tried to snatch some sleep.
It was impossible to turn over unless everyone agreed, so Wladek would
lie at the end and each hour, as near as he could judge by the changing
of the guards, he would slap the side of the carriage, and they would
all roll over and face the other way.  One after the other, the bodies
would turn like falling doniinoes.  Sometimes a body did not move -
because it no longer could - and Wladek would be informed.  He in turn
would inform the guard and four of them would pick up the body and throw
it over the side of the moving train.  The guards would pump bullets
into the head to be sure it was not someone hoping to escape.

Two hundred miles beyond Minsk, they arrived in the small town of
Smolensk, where they received warm cabbage, soup and black bread. Wladek
was joined in his car by some new prisoners who spoke the same tongue as
the guards.  Their leader seemed to be about the same age as Wladek.
Wladek and his ten remaining companions, nine men and one woman, were
immediately suspicious of the new arrivals, and they divided the
carriage in half, with the two groups remaining apart for several days.

One night, while Wladek lay awake staring at the stars, trying to get
warm, he watched the leader of the Smolenskis crawl towards the end man
of his own line with a small piece of rope in his hand.  He watched him
slip it round the neck of Alfons, the Baron's first footman, who was
sleeping.  Wladek knew if he moved too quickly, the boy would hear him
and escape back to his own half of the carriage and the protection of
his comrades, so he crawled slowly on his belly down the line of Polish
bodies.  Eyes stared at him as he passed, but nobody spoke.  When he
reached the end of the line, he leaped forward upon the aggressor,
immediately waking everyone in the truck.  Each faction shrank back to
its own end of the carriage, with the exception of Alfons, who lay
motionless in front of them.

The Smolenski leader was taller and more agile than Wladek, but it made
little difference while the two were fighting on the floor, The struggle
lasted for several minutes, with the gU2Lr(Is lauging and taking bets as
they watched the two doreu'dy the lhci otblood, threw a bayonet into the
middle of the car.  Both boys scrambled for the shining blade with the
Smolenski leader grabbing it first.  The Smolenski band cheered their
hero as he thrust the bayonet into the side of Wladek's leg, pulled the
blood-covered steel back out and lunged again.  On the second thrust the
blade lodged firmly in the wooden floor of the jolting car next to
Wladek's car.  As the Smolenski leader tried to wrench it free, Wladek
kicked him in the groin with every ounce of energy he had left, and in
throwing his adversary backwards released the bayonet.  With a leap,
Wladek grabbed the handle and jumped on top of the Smolenski, running
the blade right into his mouth.  The man gave out a shriek of agony that
awoke the entire train.

Wladek pulled the blade out, twisting it as he did so, and thrust it
back into the Smolenski again and again, long after he had ceased to
move.  Wladek knelt over him, breathing heavily, and then picked up the
body and threw it out of the carriage.  He heard the thud as it hit the
bank, and the shots that the guards pointlessly aimed after it.

Wladek limped towards Alfons, still lying motionless on the wooden
boards, and knelt by his side shaking his lifeless body: his second
witness dead.  Who would now believe that he, Wiadek, was the chosen
heir to the Baron's fortune?  Was there any purpose left in life?  He
collapsed to his knees.  He picked up the bayonet with both hands,
pointing the blade towards his stomach.  Immediately a guard jumped down
and wrested the weapon away from him.

"Oh no, you don't," he grunted.. "We need the lively ones like you for
the camps.  You can't expect us to do all the work."

Wladek buried his head in his hands, aware for the first time of an
aching pain in his bayoneted leg.  He had lost his inheritance and
traded it to become the leader of a band of penniless Smolenskis.

The whole truck once again became his domain and he now had twenty
prisoners to care for.  He immediately split them up so that a Pole
would always sleep next to a Smolen ski, making it impossible for there
to be any further warfare between the two groups.

Wladek spent a considerable part of his time learning their strange
tongue, not realising for several days that it was actually Russian, so
greatly did it differ from the classical Russian language taught him by
the Baron, and then the real significance of the discovery dawned on him
for the first time when he realised where the train was heading.

During the day Wladek used to take on two Srnolenskis at a time to tutor
him, and as soon as they were tired, he would take on two more, and so
on until they were all exhausted.

Gradually he became able to converse easily with his new dependents.
Some of them were Russian soldiers, exiled after repatriation for the
crime of having been captured by the Germans.  The rest were White
Russians, farmers, miners, labourers, all bitterly hostile to the
Revolution.

The train jolted on past terrain more barren than Wladek had ever seen
before, and through towns of which he had never heard - Omsk, Novo
Sibirsk, Krasnoyarsk - the names rang ominously in his ears.  Finally,
after three months and more than three thousand miles, they reached
Irkutsk, where the railway track came to an abrupt end.

They were hustled off the train, fed, and issued with felt boots,
jackets and heavy coats and although fights broke out for the warmest
clothing, they still provided little protection from the ever
intensifying cold.

Horseless wagons appeared, not unlike the one which had borne Wladek
away from his castle, and long chains were thrown out.  Then, to
Wladek's disbelief and horror, the prisoners were cuffed to the chain by
one hand, twenty-five pairs side by side on each chain.  The trucks
pulled the mass of prisoners along while the guards rode on the back.

They marched like that for twelve hours, before being given a twohour
rest, and then they marched again.  After three days, Wiadek thought he
would die of cold and exhaustion, but once clear of populated areas they
travelled only during the day and rested at night.  A mobile field
kitchen run by prisoners from the camp supplied turnip soup and bread at
first light and then again at night.  Wladek learned from these
prisoners that conditions at the camp were even worse.

For the first week they were never unshackled from those chains, but
later when there could be no thought of escape they were released at
night to sleep, digging holes in the snow for warmth.  Sometimes on good
days they found a forest in which to bed down: luxury began to take
strange forms.  On and on they marched, past enormous lakes and across
frozen rivers, ever northwards, into the face of viciously cold winds
and deeper falls of snow.  Wladek's injured leg gave him a constant dull
pain, soon surpassed in intensity by the agony of frostbitten fingers
and ears.  There was no sign of life or food in all the e'xpanse of
whiteness, and Wladek knew that to attempt an escape at night could only
mean slow death by starvation.  The old and the sick were starting to
die, quietly at night, if they were lucky.  The unlucky ones, unable to
keep up the pace, were uncuffed from the chains and cast off to be left
alone in the endless snow.  Those who survived walked on, on, on, always
towards the north, until Wladek lost all sense of time and was simply
conscious of the inexorable tug of the chain, not even sure when he dug
his hole in the snow to sleep at night that he would wake the next
morning: those that didn't had dug their own grave.

After a trek of nine hundred miles, those who had survived were met by
Ostyaks, nomads of the Russian steppes, in reindeer-drawn sleds.  The
trucks discharged their cargo and turned back.  The prisoners, now
chained to the sleds, were led on.  A great blizzard forced them to halt
for the greater part of two days and Wladek seized the opportunity to
communicate with the young Ostyak to whose sled he was chained.  Using
classical Russian, with a Polish accent, he was understood only very
imperfectly but he did discover that the Ostyaks hated the Russians of
the south, who treated them almost as badly as they treated their
captives.  The Ostyaks were not unsympathetic to the sad prisoners with
no future, the "unfortunateie as they called them.

Nine days later, in the half light of the early Arctic winter night,
they reached camp 201.  Wladek would never have believed he could have
been glad to see such a place: row upon row of wooden huts in the stark
open space.  The huts, like the prisoners were numbered.  Wladek's hut
was 33 There was a small black stove in the middle of the room, and,
projecting from the walls, tiered wooden bunks on which were hard straw
mattresses and one thin blanket.  Few of them managed to sleep at all
that first night, and the groans and cries that came from hut 33 were
often louder than the howls of the wolves outside.

The next morning before the sun rose, they were woken by the sound of a
hammer against an iron triangle.  There was thick frost on both sides of
the window and Wladek thought that he must surely die of the cold.
Breakfast in a freezing communal hall lasted for ten minutes and
consisted of a bowl of lukewarm gruel, with pieces of rotten fish and a
leaf of cabbage floating in it. The newcomers spat the fish bones out on
the table while the more seasoned prisoners ate the bones and even the
fishes' eyes.

After breakfast, they were allocated tasks.  Wladek became a wood
chopper.  He was taken seven miles through the featureless steppes into
a forest and ordered to cut a certain number of trees each day.  The
guard would leave him and his little group of six to themselves with
their food ration, tasteless yellow magara porridge and bread.  The
guards had no fear of the Prisoners attempting to escape, for it was
over a thousand miles to the nearest town, even if you knew in which
direction to head.

At the end of each day, the guard would return and count the number of
logs of wood they had chopped;

he informed the prisoners that if they failed to reach the required
number, he would stop the group's food for the following day.  But when
he came back at seven in the evening to collect the reluctant woodsmen,
it was already dark, and he could not always see exactly how many new
logs they had cut.  Wladek taught the others in his team to spend the
last part of the afternoon clearing the snow off the wood cut the
previous day and lining it up with what they had chopped that day.  It
was a plan that always worked, and Wladek's group never lost a day's
food.  Sometimes they managed to return to the camp with a small piece
of wood, tied to the inside of their legs, to put in the coal stove at
night. Caution was required, for at least one of them was searched every
time they left and entered the camp, often having to remove one or both
boots, and to stand there in the numbing snow.  If they were caught with
anything on them it meant three days without food.

go As the weeks went by, Wladek's leg started to become very stiff and
painful.  He longed for the coldest days, when the temperature went down
to forty below zero, and outside work was called off, even though the
lost day would have to be made up on a free Sunday when they were
normally allowed to lie on their bunks all day.

One evening when Wladek had been hauling logs across the waste, his leg
began to throb unmercifully.  When he looked at the scar caused by the
Smolenski, he found that it had become puffy and shiny.  That night, he
showed the wound to a guard, who ordered him to report to the camp
doctor before first light in the morning.  Wladek sat up all night with
his leg nearly touching the stove, surrounded by wet boots, but the heat
was so feeble that it couldn't ease the pain.

The next morning Wladek rose an hour earlier than usual.  If you had not
seen the doctor before work was due to start, then you missed him until
the next day.  Wladek couldn't face another day of such intense pain. He
reported to the doctor, giving his name and number.  Pierre Dubien was a
sympathetic old man, bald-headed, with a pronounced stoop, and Wladek
thought he looked even older than the Baron.  He inspected Wladek's leg
without speaking.

"Will the wound be all right, doctor?" asked Wladek.

"You speak Russian?"

"Yes, sir.. "Although you will always limp, young man, your leg will be
good again.  But good for what?  A life here dragging wood.. "No,
doctor, I intend to escape and get back to Poland," said Wladek.

The doctor looked sharply at him.. "Keep your voice down, stupid boy.
You must realise by now that escape is impossible.  I have been in
captivity fifteen years, and not a day has passed that I have not
thought of escape.  There is no way; no one has ever escaped and lived,
and even to talk of it means ten days in the punishment cell, and there
they feed you every third day and light the stove only to melt the ice
off the walls.

If you come out of that place alive, you can consider yourself lucky."

"I will escape, I will, I will," said Wladek, staring at the old man.

The doctor looked into Wladek's eyes and smiled.. "My friend, never
mention escape again or they may kill you.

Go back to work, keep your leg exercised and report to me first thing
every morning."

Wladek returned to the forest and to the chopping of wood, but found
that he could not drag the logs more than a few feet, and that the pain
was so intense he believed his leg might fall off.  When.he returned the
next morning, the doctor examined the leg more carefully.

"Worse, if anything,"he said.. "How old are you, boy?"

"I think I am thirteen," said Wladek.. "What year is it?"

"Nineteen hundred and nineteen," replied the doctor.. "Yes, thirteen.
How old are you?" asked Wladek.  The old man looked down into the young
boy's blue eyes, surprised by the question.

"Thirty-eight," he said quietly.. "God help me,"said Wladek.

"You will look like this when you have been a prisoner for fifteen
years, my boy," said the doctor matter of factly.

"Why are you here at all?" said Wladek.. "Why haven't they let you go
after all this time?"

"I was taken prisoner in Moscow in 1904, soon after I had qualified as a
doctor and I was working in the French Embassy.  They said I was a spy
and put me in a Moscow jail.  I thought that was bad until after the
Revolution when they sent me to this hell-hole.  Even the French have
now forgotten that I exist.  Few have been known to complete their
sentence at camp Two-O-One so I must die here, like everyone else, and
it can't be too soon."

"No, you must not give up hope, doctor."

"Hope?  I gave up hope for myself a long time ago, perhaps I shall not
give it up for you, but always remember never to mention that hope to
anyone; there are prisoners here who trade in loose tongues, when their
reward can be nothing more than an extra piece of bread or perhaps a
blanket.  Now Wladek, I am going to put you on kitchen duty for a month
and you must continue to report to me every morning.

It is the only chance that you have of not losing that leg, and I do not
relish being the man who has to cut it off.  We don't exactly have the
latest surgical instruments here," he added, staring at a large carving
knife.

Wladek shuddered.

Doctor Dubien wrote out Wladek!s name on a slip of paper.  Next morning,
Wladek reported to the kitchens, where he cleaned the plates in freezing
water and helped to prepare food that required no refrigeration.  After
carrying logs all day, he found it a welcome change: extra fish soup,
thick black bread with shredded nettles, and the chance to stay inside
and keep warm.  On one occasion he even shared half an egg with the
cook, although neither of them could be sure what fowl had laid it.
Wladek's leg mended slowly, leaving him with a pronounced limp.  There
was little Doctor Dubien could do in the absence of any real medical
supplies except keep an eye on his progress.  As the days went by, the
doctor began to befriend Wladek and even to believe in his youthful hope
for the future.  They would converse in a different language each
morning, but the old man most enjoyed speaking in French, his native
tongue.

"In seven days time, Wiadek, you will have to return to forest duty; the
guards will inspect your leg and I will not be able to keep you in the
kitchens any longer.  So listen carefully, for I have decided upon a
plan for your escape.. "Together, doctor," said Wladek.. "Together."
"No, only you.  I am too old for such a long journey, and although I
have dreamed about escape for over fifteen years, I would only hold you
up.  It will be enough for me to know someone else has achieved it, and
you are the first person I've ever met who has convinced me that he
might succeed."

Wladek sat on the floor in silence listening to the doctor's plan.

"I have, over the last fifteen years, saved two hundred rubles - you
don't exactly get overtime as a Russian prisoner." Wiadek tried to laugh
at the camp's oldest joke.. "I keel) the money hidden in a drug bottle,
four fifty-ruble notes.  NVli(,P, the time comes for you to leave, the
money must be sewing i i i i t 0 your clothes, I will have already done
this for you.. "What clothes?" asked Wladek.

"I have a suit and a shirt I bribed from a guard twelve years ago when I
still believed in escape.  Not exactly the latest fashion, but they will
serve your purpose."

Fifteen years to scrape together two hundred rubles, a shirt and a suit,
and the doctor was willing to sacrifice them to Wladek in a moment.
Wladek never again in his life experienced such an act of selflessness.

"Next Thursday will be your only chance," the doctor continued.. "New
prisoners arrive by train at Irkutsk, and the guards always take four
people from the kitchen to organise the food truck for the new arrivals.
I have already arranged with the senior cook' - he laughed at the word -
'that in exchange for some drugs you will find yourself on the kitchen
truck.  It was not too hard. No one exactly wants to make the trip there
and back - but you will only be making the journey there."

Wladek was still listening intently.

"When you reach the station, wait until the prisoners' train arrives.
Once they are all on the platform, cross the line and get yourself on to
the train going to Moscow, which cannot leave until the prisoners' train
comes in, as there is only one track outside the station.  You must pray
that with hundreds of new prisoners milling around the guards will not
notice you disappear.  From then on you're on your own.  Rernemb e-r if
they do spot you, they will shoot you on sight without a second thought.
There is only one last thing I can do for you.  Fifteen years ago when I
was brought here, I drew a map from memory of the route from Moscow to
Turkey.  It may not be totally accurate any longer, but it should be
adequate for your purpose.

Be sure to check that the Russians haven't taken over Turkey as well.
God knows what they have been up to recently.  They may even control
France for all I know."

The doctor walked over to the drug cabinet and took out a lar,,e bottle
which looked as if it was full of a brown subn stance.  He unscrewed the
top and took out a old piece of parchment. The black ink had faded over
the years.  it was marked October 1904.  It showed a route from Moscow
to Odessa, and from Odessa to Turkey seventeen hundred miles to freedom.

"Come to me every morning this week, and we will go over the plan again
and again.  If you fail, it must not be from lack of preparation."

Wladek stayed awake each night, gazing at the wolves!  sun through the
window, rehearsing what he would do in any given situation, preparing
himself for every eventuality.  In the morning he would go over the plan
again and again with the doctor.  On the Wednesday evening before Wladek
was t) ti-v the escape, the doctor folded the map into eight, placed i t
with the four fifty-ruble notes in a small package and sewed the package
into a sleeve of the suit.

Wladek took off his clothes, put on the suit and then replaced the
prison uniform on top of it.  As he put on the uniform again, the
doctor's eye caught the Baron's band of silver which Wladek, ever since
He had been issued his prison uniform, had always kept above his elbow
for fear the guards would spot his only treasure and steal it.

"What's that?" he asked.. "It's quite magnificent."

CA gift from my father," said Wladek.. "May I give it to you to show my
thanks?" He slipped the band off his wrist and handed it to the doctor.

The doctor stared at the silver band for several moments arid bowed his
head.. "Never," he said.. "This can only belong ' He stared silently at
the boy.. "Your father to one person.

iyiust have been a great man." The doctor placed the band back on
Wladek!s wrist and shook him warmly by the hand.

"Good luck, Wladek.  I hope we never meet again." They embraced and
Wladek parted for what he prayed was his last night in the prison but.
He was unable to steep at all that night for fear one of the guards
would discover the suit under his prison clothes.  When the morning bell
sounded, he was already dressed and he made sure that he was not late
reporting to the kitchen.  The senior prisoner in the kitchen ii r
pushed Wladek forward when the guards came for the truck detail.  The
team chosen were four in all and Wladek was by far the youngest.

"Why this one?" asked the guard, pointing to Wladek.. "He has been at
the camp for less than a year."

Wladek's heart stopped and he went cold all over.  The doctor's plan was
going to fail; and there would not be another batch of prisoners coming
to the camp for at least three months  By then he would no longer be in
the kitchens.

"He's an excellent cook," said the senior prisoner.. "Trained in the
castle of a baron.  Only the best for the guards."

"Ah," said the guard, greed overcoming suspicion.. "Hurry up, then."

The four of them ran to the truck, and the convoy started.

The journey was again slow and arduous, but at least he was not walking
this time, nor, being summer, was it unbearably cold.  Wladek worked
hard on preparing the food and, as he had no desire to be noticed,
hardly spoke to anyone for the entire journey other than Stanislaw, the
chief cook.

When they eventually reached Irkutsk, the drive had taken nearly sixteen
days.  The train waiting to go to Moscow was already standing in
the,station.  It had been there for several hours, but was unable to
continue its journey until the train bringing the new prisoners had
arrived.  Wladek sat on the side of the platform with the others from
the field kitchen, three of them with no interest or purpose in anything
around them, dulled by the experience, but one of them intent on every
move, studying the train on the other side of the platform carefully.
There were several open entrances and Wladek quickly selected the one he
would use when his moment came.

"Are you going to try an escape?" asked Stanislaw suddenly.

Wiadek began to sweat but did not answer.

Stanislaw stared at him.. "You are?"

Still Wladek said nothing.

The old cook stared at the thirteen-year-old boy.  He nodded his head up
and down in agreement.  If he had had a tail, it would have wagged.

"Good luck.  I'll make sure they don't realise you're missing for at
least two days."

Stanislaw touched his arm and Wladek caught sight of the prisoners'
train in the distance, slowly inching its way towards them.  He tensed
in anticipation, his heart pounding, his eyes following the movement of
every soldier.  He waited for the incoming train to come to a halt and
watched the tired prisoners pile out on to the platform, hundreds of
them, anonymous men with only a past.  When the station was a chaos of
people and the guards were fully occupied, Wladek ran under the carriage
and jumped on to the other train.  No one showed any interest as he went
into a lavatory at the end of the carriage.  He locked himself in and
waited and prayed, every moment expecting someone to knock on the door.
It seemed a life time to Wladek before the train began to move out of
the station.

It was, in fact, seventeen minutes.

"At last, at last," he said out loud.  He looked through the little
window and watched the station growing smaller and smaller in the
distance, a mass of new prisoners being hitched up to the chains, ready
for the journey to camp 201, the guards laughing as they locked them in,
How many would reach the camp alive?  How many would be fed to the
wolves?  How long before they missed him?

Wladek sat in the lavatory for several more minutes, terrified to move,
not sure what he ought to do next.

Suddenly there was a banging on the door.  Wladek thought quickly the
guard, the ticket collector, a soldier - a succession of images flashed
through his mind, each one more frightening than the last.  He needed to
use the lavatory for the first time.  The banging persisted.

"Come on, come on," said a man in coarse Russian.

Wladek had little choice.  If it was a soldier, there was no way out, a
dwarf could not have squeezed through the little window.  If it wasn't a
soldier, he would only draw attention to himself by staying there.  He
took off his prison clothes, made them into as small a bundle as
possible, and threw them out of the window. Then he removed a soft hat
from the pocket of his suit to cover his shaved head, and opened the
door.  An agitated man rushed in, pulling down his trousers even before
Wladek had left.

Once in the corridor, Madek felt isolated and terrifyingly conspicuous
in his out-of-date suit, an apple placed on a pile of oranges.  He
immediately went in search of another lavatory.  When he found one that
was unoccupied, he locked himself in and quickly undid the stitches in
his suit, extracting one of the four fifty-ruble notes.  He replaced the
other three and returned to the corridor.  He looked for the most
crowded carriage he could find and hid himself in a corner.  Some men
were playing pitch-and-toss in the middle of the carriage for a few
rubles to while away the time.  Wiadek had always beaten Leon when they
had played in the castle, and he would have liked to have joined the
contestants, but he feared winning and drawin-a attention to himself.
The game went on for a long time and Wladek began to remember the
stratagems.  The temptation to risk his two hundred rubles was almost
irresistible.

One of the gamblers, who had parted with a considerable amount of his
money, retired in disgust and sat down by Wladek, swearing.

"The luck wasn't with you!" said Wladek, wanting to hear the sound of
his own voice.

"Ah, it's not luck," the gambler replied.. "Most days I could beat that
lot of peasants, but I have run out of rubles.. "Do you want to sell
your coat?" asked Wladek.

The gambler was one of the few passengers in the carriage wearing a
good, old, thick bearskin coat.  He stared at the youth.

"Looking at that suit I'd say you couldn't afford it, boy." Wladek could
tell from the man's voice that he hoped he could.. "I would want
seventy-five rubles.. "I'll give you forty," said Wladek.

"Sixty," said the gambler.

"Fifty," said Wladek.

"No.  Sixty is the least I'd let it go for; it cost over a hundred,"
said the gambler.

"A long time ago," said Wladek, as he considered the implications of
taking extra money from inside the lining of his coat in order to secure
the full amount needed.  He decided against doing so as it would only
draw further attention to himself; he would have to wait for another
opportunity.  Wladek was not willing to show he could not afford the
coat, and he touched the collar of the garment and said, with
considerable disdain. "You paid too much for it, my friend; fifty
rubles, not a kopeck more." Wladek rose as if to leave.

"Wait, wait," said the gambler.. "I'll let you have it for fifty."
Wladek took the fifty rubles out of his pocket and the gambler took off
his coat and exchanged it for the grimy red note.  The coat was far too
big for Wladek, nearly touching the ground, but it was exactly what he
needed to cover his conspicuous suit.  For a few moments, he watched the
gambler, back in the game, once again losing.  From his new tutor he had
learned two things : never to gamble unless the odds are tipped in your
favour by superior knowledge or skill, and always to be willing to walk
away from a deal when you have reached your limit.

Wladek left the carriage, feeling a little safer under his new-old coat.
He started to examine the layout of the train with a little more
confidence.  The carriages seemed to be in two classes; general ones
where passengers stood or sat on the wooden boards and pecial ones where
they could sit on upbolstered seats.  Wlasdek found that all the
carriages were packed, with but one exception, a sitting carriage with a
solitary woman in it.  She was middle-aged, as far as Wladek could tell,
and dressed a little more smartly with a little more flesh on her bones
than most of the other passengers on the train.  She wore a dark blue
dress and a scarf over her head.  She smiled at Wladek as he stood
staring at her, and this gesture gave him the confidence to enter the
carriage.

"May I sit down?"

"Please do," said the woman, looking at him carefully.

Wladek did not speak again, but studied the woman and the contents of
the carriage.  She had a sallow skin covered with tired lines, a little
overweight - the little bit you could be on Russian food.  Her short
black hair and brown eyes suggested that she once might have been quite
attractive.  She had two large cloth bags on the rack and a small valise
by her side.  Despite the danger of his position Wladek was suddenly
aware of feeling desperately tired.

He was wondering if he dared to sleep when the woman spoke.

"Where are you travelling?"

The question took Wladek by surprise and he tried to think quickly.
"Moscow," he said, holding his bread. "So am I," she replied.

Wladek was already regretting the isolation of the carriage and the
information he had given.  Don't talk to anyone, the doctor had warned
him; remember, trust nobody.

To his relief the woman asked no more questions.  As he began to regain
his lost confidence, the ticket collector arrived.  Wladek started to
sweat, despite the temperature being minus twenty degrees.  The
collector took the woman's ticket, tore it, gave it back to her, and
then turned to Wladek.

"Ticket, comrade," was all he said in a slow, monotonous tone.

Wladek was speechless, and started thumbing around in his coat pocket.

"He's my son,"said the woman firmly.

The ticket collector looked back at the woman, once more at Wladek, and
then he bowed to the woman and left the carriage without another word.

Wladek stared at her.. "Thank you," he breathed, not quite sure what
else he could say.

"I watched you come from under the prisoners train," the woman remarked
quietly.  Wladek felt sick.. "But I shall not give you away.  I have a
young cousin in one of those terrible camps, and all of us fear that one
day we might end up there.  What do you have on under your coat?"

Wladek weighed the relative merits of dashing out of the carriage and
unfastening his coat.  If he dashed out of the carriage there was no
escape.  He unfastened his coat.. "Not as bad as I had feared," she
said.. "What did you do with your prison uniform?"

"Threw it out of the window."

"Let's hope they don't find it before you reach Moscow." Wladek said
nothing.

"Do you have anywhere to stay in Moscow?" He thought again of the
doctor's advice to trust nobody, but he had to trust her.

"I have nowhere to go."

"Then you can stay with me until you find somewhere to live.  My
husband," she explained, "is the station master in Moscow, and this
carriage is for government officials only.  If you ever make that
mistake again, you will be taking the train back to Irkutsk."

Wladek swallowed.. "Should I leave now?"

"No, not now that the ticket collector has seen you.  You will be safe
with me for the time being.  Do you have any identity papers?"

"No.  What are they?"

"Since the Revolution every Russian citizen must have identity papers to
show who he is, where he lives and where he works, otherwise he ends up
in jail until he can produce them, and as he can never produce them once
in jail, he stays there for ever," she added matter of factly.. "You
will have to stick by me once we reach Moscow, and be sure you don't
open your mouth."

"You are being very kind to me," said Wladek suspiciously.

"Now the Tsar is dead, none of us is safe.  I was lucky to be married to
the right man," she added, "but there is not a citizen in Russia,
including government officials, who does not live in constant fear of
arrest and the camps.

What is your name?"

"Wl'adek."

"Good, now you sleep, Wladek, because you look exhausted, the journey is
long and you are not safe yet." Wladek slept.

When he woke, several hours had passed, and it was now dark outside.  He
stared at his protectress, and she sled.  Wladek returned her smile,
praying that she could be trusted not to tell the officials who he was -
or had she already done so?  She produced some food from one of her
bundles and Wladek ate the offering silently.  When they reached the
next station, nearly all the passengers got out, some of them
permanently, but most to seek what little refreshment was available or
to stretch their stiff limbs.

The middle-aged woman rose, looked at Wladek.. "Follow me," she said.

He stood up and followed her on to the platform.  Was he about to be
given up?  She put out her hand, and he took it as any thirteen-year-old
child accompanying his mother would do.  She walked towards a lavatory
marked for women only.  Wladek hesitated.  She insisted, and once inside
she told Wladek to take off his clothes.  He obeyed her unquestioningly
as he hadn't anyone since the death of the Baron.  While he undressed
she turned on the solitary tap, which with reluctance yielded a trickle
of cold brownish water.  She was disgusted.  But to Wladek, it was a
vast improvement on the camp water.  The woman started to bathe his
wounds with a wet rag and attempted hopelessly to wash him.  She winced
when she saw the scar on his leg.  Wladek didn't murinur from the pain
that came with each touch, gentle as she tried to be.

"When we get you home, I'll make a better job of those wounds," she
said, "but that will have to do for now."

Then she saw the silver band, studied the inscription and looked
carefully at Wladek.. "Is that yours?" she asked.

"Who did you steal it from?"

Wladek looked offended.. "I didwt steal it.  My father gave it to me
before he died."

She stared at him again, and a different look came into her eyes.  Was
it fear or respect?  She bowed her head.

"Be careful, Wladek, men would kill for such a valuable prize."

He nodded his a agreement and started to dress q ' kly.

9     uic They returned to their carriage.  A delay of an hour at a
station was not unusual and when the train started lurching forward,
Wladek was glad to feel the wheels clattering underneath him again.  The
train took twelve and a half days to reach Moscow.  Whenever a new
ticket collector appeared, they went through the same routine, Wladek
unconvincingly trying to look innocent and young.  The woman a
convincing mother.  The ticket collectors always bowed respectfully to
the middle-aged lady, and Wladek began to think that station masters
must be very important in Russia.

By the time they completed the one-thousand-mile journey to Moscow,
Wladek had put his trust completely in the middle-aged lady and was
looking forward to seeing her house.  It was early afternoon when the
train came to its final halt and despite everything Wladek had been
through, he had never visited a big city, let alone the capital of all
the Russias.  He was terrified, once again tasting the fear of the
unknown.  So many people all rushing around in different directions. The
middle-aged lady sensed his apprehension.

"Follow me, do not speak, and whatever you do don't take your cap off."

Wladek took her bags down from the rack, pulled his cap over his head -
now covered in a black stubble - down to his cars and followed her out
on to the platform.  A throng of people at the barrier were waiting to
go through a tiny exit, which caused a holdup as everyone had to show
their identification papers to the guard.  As they approached the
barrier, Wladek could hear his heart beating like a soldier's drum, but
when their turn came the fear was over in a moment.  The guard only
glanced at the woman's documents.

"Comrade," he said, and saluted.  He looked at Wladek.

"My son," she explained.

"Of course, comrade." He saluted again.

Wladek was in Moscow.

Despite the trust he had placed in his new-found companion, his first
instinct was to run but as one hundred and fifty rubles was hardly
enough to live on, he decided for the time being to stay put.  He could
always run at some later time.  A horse and cart was waiting at the
station and took the woman and her new son home.  The station master was
not there when they arrived, so the woman immediately set about making
up the spare bed for Wladek.

Then she poured water, heated on a stove, into a large tin tub and told
him to get in.  It was the first bath he had had in over four years,
unless he counted the dip in the stream.  She heated some more water and
reintroduced him to soap, scrubbing his back, the only part of his body
with unbroken skin.  The water began to change colour and after twenty
minutes, it was black.  Once Wladek was dry, the woman put some ointment
on his arms and legs, and bandaged the parts of his body that looked
particularly fierce.  She stared at his one nipple.  He dressed quickly
and then joined her in the kitchen.  She had already prepared a bowl of
hot soup and some beans.  Wladek ate the veritable feast hungrily.
Neither of them spoke.  When he had finished the meal, she suggested
that it might be wise for him to go to bed and rest.

"I do not want my husband to see you before I have told him why you are
here," she explained.

"Would you like to stay with us, Wladek, if my husband agrees?"

Wladek nodded thankfully.

"Then off you go to bed,"she said.

Wladek obeyed and prayed that her husband would allow him to live with
them.  He undressed slowly and climbed on to the bed.  He was too clean,
the sheets were too clean, the mattress was too soft, and he threw the
pillow on the floor, but he was so tired that he slept despite the
comfort of the bed.  He was woken from his deep sleep some hours later
by the sound of raised voices coming from the kitchen.  He could not
tell how long he had slept.  It was already dark outside as he crept off
the bed, walked to the door, eased it open and listened to the
conversation taking place in the kitchen below.

"You stupid woman." Wladek heard a piping voice.. "Do you not understand
what would have happened if you had been caught?  It would have been you
who would have been sent to the camps."

"But if you had seen him, Piotr, like a hunted animal.. "So you decided
to turn us into hunted animals," said the e voice.. "Has anyone else
seen him?"

"No," said the woman. "I don't think so."

"Thank God for that.  He must go immediately before anyone knows he's
here, it's our only hope."

"But go where, Piotr?  He is lost, and has no one," Wladek's protectress
pleaded.. "And I have always wanted a son."

"I do not care what you want or where he goes, he is not our
responsibility and we must be quickly rid of him."

"But Piotr, I think he is royal, I think his father was a Baron.  He
wears a silver band around his wrist and inscribed on it are the words.
.  ."

"That only makes it worse.  You know what our new leaders have decreed.
No tsars, no royalty, no privileges.  We would not even have to bother
to go to the camp, the authorities would just shoot us."

"We have always wanted a son, Piotr.  Can we not take this one risk in
our lives?"

"With your life, perhaps, but not mine.  I say he must go and go now."

Wladek did not need to listen to any more of their conversation.
Deciding that the only way he could help his benefactress would be to
disappear without trace into the night, he dressed quickly and stared at
the slept-in bed, hoping it would not be four more years before he saw
another one.  He was unlatching the window when the door was flung open
and into the room came the station master, a tiny man, no taller than
Wiadek, with a large stomach and an almost bald head covered in long
strands of grey hair.  He wore rimless spectacles, which had produced
little red semicircles under each eye.  The man carried a paraffin lamp.
He stood, staring at Wladek.  Wladek stared defiantly back.

"Come downstairs," he commanded.

Wladek followed him reluctantly to the kitchen.  The woman was sitting
at the table crying.

"Now listen, boy," he said.

"His name is Wladek," the woman interjected.

"Now listen, boy," he repeated.. "You are trouble, and I want you out of
here and as far away as possible.  I'll tell you what I am going to do
to help you."

Help?  Wladek gazed at him stonily.

"I am going to give you a train ticket.  Where do you want to go?"

"Odessa," said Wladek, ignorant of where it was or how much it would
cost, knowing only that it was the next city on the doctor's map to
freedom.

"Odessa, the mother of crime - an appropriate destination," sneered the
station master.. "You can only be among your own kind and come to harm
there."

"Then let Mm stay with us, Piotr.  I will take care of him, I Will ... I

"No, never.  I would rather pay the bastard."

"But how can he hope to get past the authorities?" the woman pleaded.

"I will have to issue him a working pass for Odessa." He turned his head
towards Wladek.. "Once you are on that train, boy, if I see or hear of
you again in Moscow, I will have you arrested on sight and thrown into
the nearest jail.

You will then be back in that prison camp as fast as the train can get
you there if they don't shoot you first."

He stared at the clock on the kitchen mantlepiece: five after eleven. He
turned to his wife.. "There is a train that leaves for Odessa at
midnight.  I will take him to the station myself.  I want to be sure he
leaves Moscow, Have you any baggage,boy?"

Wladek was about to say no, when the woman said. "Yes, I will go and
fetch it."

Wladek and the station master stood, staring at each other with mutual
contempt.  The woman was away for a long time.  The grandfather clock
struck once in her absence.  Still neither spoke, and the station
master's eyes never left Wladek, When his wife returned, she was
carrying a large brown paper parcel wrapped up with string.  Wladek
stared at it and began to protest, but as their eyes met, he saw such
fear in hers that he only just got out the words. "Thank YOU.P

"Eat this," she said, thrusting her bowl of cold soup towards him.

He obeyed, although his shrunken stomach wag now over, full, gulping
down the soup as quickly as possible, not wanting her to be in any more
trouble.

"Animal," the man said.

Wladek looked at him, hatred in his eye-,.  He felt pity for the woman,
bound to such a man for life.

"Come, boy, it's time to leave," the station master said.. "We don't
want you to miss your train, do we?"

Wladek followed the man out of the kitchen.  He hesitated as he passed
the woman and touched her hand, feeling the response.  Nothing was said;
no words would have been adequate.  The station master and the refugee
crept through the streets of Moscow, hiding in the shadows, until they
reached the station.  The station master obtained a one-way ticket to
Odessa and gave the little red slip of paper to Wladek.

"My pass?" said Wladek defiantly.   fficial look-From his inside pocket
the man drew out an o ing form, signed it hurriedly, and handed it over
furtively to Wladek.  The station master's eyes kept looking all around
him for any possible danger.  Wiadek had seen those eyes so r years :
the eyes of a many times during the past fou coward.

"Never let me see or hear of you again," he said, the voice of a bully.

Wladek had also heard that voice many times before in the last four
years.  He looked up, wanting to say something, but the station master
had already retreated into the shadows of the night where he belonged.
He looked at the eyes of the people who hurried past him.  The same
eyes, the same fear; was anyone in the world free?  Wladek gathered the
brown paper parcel under his arm, checked his hat, and walked towards
the barrier.  This time he felt more confident, showing his pass to the
guard; he was ushered through without comment.  He climbed on board the
train.  It had been a short visit to Moscow, and he would never see the
city again in his life, though he would always remember the kindness of
the woman, the station master's wife, Comrade ...  He didn't even know
her name.

Wladek stayed in the general class standing carriages for his journey.
Odessa looked less distant from Moscow than Irkutsk, about a thumb's
length on the doctor's sketch, eight hundred and fifty miles in reality.
While Wladek was studying his rudimentary map, he became distracted by
another game of pitch-and-toss which was taking place in the carriage.
He folded the parchment, replaced it safely in the lining of his suit
and began taking a closer interest in the game.  He noticed that one of
the gamblers was winning consistently, even when the odds were stacked
against him.

Wladek watched the man more carefully and soon realised that he was
cheating.

He moved to the other side of the carriage to make sure he could still
spot the man cheating when facing him, but he couldn't.  He edged
forward and made a place for himself in the circle of gamblers.  Every
time the cheat had lost twice in a row, Wladek backed him with one
ruble, doubling his stake until he won.  The cheat was either flattered
or considered he would be wise to remain silent about Wladek's luck,
because he never once even glanced in his direction.  By the time they
reached the next station, Wladek had won fourteen rubles, two of which
he used to buy himself an apple and a cup of hot soup.  He had won
enough to last the entire journey to Odessa and, pleased with the
thought that he could win even more rubles with his new safe system, he
silently thanked the unknown gambler and climbed back on to the train
ready to resume the strategy.  As his foot touched the top step, he was
knocked flying into a corner.  His arm was jerked painfully behind his
back and his face was pushed hard against the carriage wall.

His nose began to bleed and he could feel the point of a knife touching
the lobe of his ear.

"Do you hear me, boy?"

"Yes," said Wladek, petrified.

"If you go back to my carriage again, I take this ear right off, then
you won't be able to hear me, will you?"

"No, sir," said Wladek.

Wladek felt the point of the knife breaking the surface of the skin
behind his ear and blood began trickling down his neck.

"Let that be a warning to you, boy."

A knee suddenly came up into his kidneys with as much force as-the
gambler could muster.  Wladek collapsed to the ground.  A hand rummaged
into his coat pockets and the recently acquired rubles were removed.

"Mine, I think," the voice said.

Blood was now coming out of Wladek's nose and from behind  ear.  When he
summoned up the courage to look up from the corner of the corridor, it
was empty, and there was no sign of the gambler.  Wladek tried to get to
his feet, but his body refused to obey the order from his brain, so he
remained slumped in the corner for several minutes.

Eventually when he was able to rise, he walked slowly to the other end
of the train, as far away from the gambler's carriage as possible, his
limp grotesquely exaggerated.  He hid in a carriage occupied mostly by
women and children, and fell into a deep sleep.

At the next stop, Wladek didn't leave the train.  He undid his little
parcel and started to investigate.  Apples, bread, nuts, two shirts, a
pair of trousers and even shoes were contained in that brown-papered
treasure trove.  What a woman, what a husband.

He ate, he slept, he dreamed.  And finally, after six nights and five
days, the train chugged into the terminal at Odessa.  The same check at
the ticket barrier, but the guard hardly gave Wladek a second look. This
time his papers were all in order, but now he was on his own.  He still
had one hundred and fifty rubles in the lining of his suit, and no
intention of wasting any of them.

Wladek spent the rest of the day walking around the town trying to
familiarise himself with its geography, but he found he was continually
distracted by sights he had never seen before: big town houses, shops
with windows, hawkers selling their colourful trinkets on the street,
gaslights, and even a monkey on a stick.  Wladek walked on until he
reached the harbour and stopped to stare at the open sea beyond it. Yes,
there it was - what the Baron had called an ocean.  He gazed into the
blue expanse longingly: that way was freedom and escape from Russia. The
city must have seen its fair share of fighting: burnt-out houses and
squalor were all too evident, grotesque in the mild, flower-scented sea
air.  Wladek wondered whether the city was still at war.

There was no one he could ask.  As the sun disappeared behind the high
buildings, he began to look for somewhere to spent the night.  Wladek
took a side road and kept walking.  He must have looked a strange sight
with his skin coat dragging along the ground and the brown paper parcel
under his arm.  Nothing looked safe to him until he came across a
railway siding in which a solitary old carriage stood in isolation.  He
stared into it cautiously; darkness and silence: no one was there.  He
threw his paper parcel into the carriage, raised his tired body up on to
the boards, crawled into a corner and lay down to sleep.  As his head
touched the wooden floor, a body leaped on top of him and two hands were
quickly around his throat.  He could barely breathe.

"Who are you?" hissed a boy who, in the darkness, sounded no older than
himself.

"Wladek Koskiewicz.. "Where do you come from?"

"Moscow." Slonim had been on the tip of Wladek's tongue.

"Well, you're not sleeping in my carriage, Muscovite," said the voice.

"Sorry," said Wladek.. "I didn't know.. "Got any money?" His thumbs
pressed into Wladek's throat.

"A little," said Wladek.

"How much?"

"Seven rubles.. "Hand it over." Wladek rummaged in the pocket of his
overcoat, while the boy also pushed one hand firmly into it, releasing
the pressure on Wladek's throat.

in one movement, Wladek brought up his knee with every ounce of force he
could muster into the boy's crotch.

His attacker flew back in agony, clutching his testicles.  Wladek leaped
on him, hitting him in places the boy would never have thought of.  The
rules had suddenly changed.  He was no competition for Wladek; sleeping
in a derelict carriage was five-star luxury compared to the dungeons and
a Russian labour camp.

Wladek stopped only when his adversary was pinned to the carriage floor,
helpless.  The boy pleaded with Wladek.

"Go to the far end of the carriage and stay there," said Wladek.. "If
you so much as move a muscle, I'll kill you."

"Yes, yes," said the boy, scrambling away.

Wladek heard him hit the far end of the carriage.  He sat still and
listened for a few moments - no movement then he lowered his head once
more on to the floor, and in moments he was sleeping soundly.

When he awoke, the sun was already shining through the slits between the
boards of the carriage.  He turned over slowly and studied his adversary
of the previous night for the first time.  He was lying in a foetal
position, still asleep at the other end of the carriage.

"Come here," commanded Wladek.

The boy woke slowly.

"Come here," repeated Wladek, a little more loudly.

The boy obeyed immediately.  It was the first chance Wladek had had to
look at him properly.  They were about the same age, but the boy was a
clear foot taller with a younger-looking face and scruffy fair hair. His
general appearance suggested that talk of soap and water would have been
treated as an insult.

"First things first," said Wladek.. "How does one get some-thing to eat
here?"

"Follow me," said the boy, leaping out of the carriage.  Wladek limped
after him and followed the boy up the hill into the town where the
morning market was being set up.

III He had not seen so much wholesome food since those magnificent
dinners with the Baron.  Row upon row of stalls with fruit, vegetables,
greens, and even his favourite nuts.  The boy could see Wladek was
overwhelmed by the sight.

"Now I'll tell you what we do," the boy said, sounding confident for the
first time.. "I will go over to the corner stall and steal an orange,
and then make a run for it.  You will shout at the top of your voice,
"Stop thief'.  The stallkeeper will chase me and when he does, you move
in and fill your pockets.  Don't be greedy; enough for one meal.

Then you return here.  Got it?"

"Yes, I think so," said Wladek.

"Lets see if you're up to it, Moscovitc." The boy looked at him,
snarled, and was gone.  Wladek watched him in admiration as he swaggered
to the corner of the first market stall, removed an orange from the top
of a pyramid, made some short unheard remark to the stallkeeper and
started to run slowly.  He glanced back at Wladek, who had entirely
forgotten to shou. "Stop thief', but the stall owner looked up and
immediately began to chase the boy.  While everyone's eyes were on
Wladek's accomplice, he moved in quickly and managed to take three
oranges, an apple and a potato, and put them in the large pockets of his
overcoat.  When the stallkeeper looked as if he were about to catch his
accomplice, the boy lobbed the orange back at him.  The man stopped to
pick it up and swore at him, waving his fist, complaining vociferously
to the other merchants as he returned to his stall.

Wladek was shaking with mirth as he took in the scene when a hand was
placed firmly on his shoulder.  He turned round in the horror of having
been caught.

"Did you get anything, Moscovite, or are you only here as a sightseer?"

Wladek burst out laughing with relief and produced the three oranges,
apple and potato.  The boy joined in the laughter.

"What's your name?" said Wladek.

"Stefan."

"Let's do it again, Stefan."

"Hold on, Muscovite, dot you start getting too clever.  If we do my
scheme again, we'll have to go to the other end of the market and wait
for at least an hour.  You're working with a professional now, but don't
imagine you won't get caught occasionally."

The two boys went quietly through to the other end of the market, Stefan
walking with a swagger for which Wladek would have traded the three
oranges, apple, potato and his one hundred and fifty rubles.  They
mingled with the morning shoppers and when Stefan decided the time was
right, they repeated the trick twice.  Satisfied with the results, they
returned to the railway carriage to enjoy their captured spoils; six
oranges, five apples, three potatoes, a pear, several varieties of nuts,
and the special prize, a melon.  In the past, Stefan had never had
pockets big enough to hold one.  Wladek's greatcoat took care of that.

"Not bad 9 said Wladek, as he dug his teeth into a potato.. "Do you eat
the skins as well?" asked Stefan, horrified.

"I've been places where the skins are a luxury," replied Wladek.

Stefan looked at him with admiration.

"Next problem is how do we get some money?  said Wladek.

"You want everything in one day, don't you, o master?" said Stefan.
"Chain gang on the waterfront is the best bet, if you think you're up to
some real work, Muscovite.. "Show me," said Wladek.

After they had eaten half the fruit and hidden the rest under the straw
in the corner of the carriage, Stefan took Wladek down the steps to the
harbour and showed Mm all the shi s.  Wladek couldn't believe his eyes.
He had been .  p told by the Baron of the great ships that crossed the
high seas delivering their cargoes to foreign lands, but these were so
much bigger than he had ever imagined, and they stood in a line as far
as the eye could see.

Stefan interrupted his thoughts.. "See that one over there, the big
green one; well, what you have to do is pick up a basket at the bottom
of the gangplank, fill it with grain, climb up the ladder and then drop
your load in the hold.  You get a ruble for every four trips you make.
Be sure you can count, Muscovite, because the bastard in charge of the
gang will swindle you as soon as look at you and pocket the money for
himself."

Stefan and Wladek spent the rest of the afternoon carrying grain up the
ladder.  They made twenty-six rubles between them.  After a dinner of
stolen nuts, bread, and an onion they hadn't intended to take, they
slept happily in their carriage.

Wladek was the first to wake the next morning and Stefan found him
studying his map.

"What's that?" asked Stefan.

"This is a route showing me how to get out of Russia.. "What do you want
to leave Russia for when you can stay here and team up with me?" said
Stefan.. "We could be partners."

"No, I must get to Turkey; there I will be a free man for the first
time.  Why don't you come with me, Stefan?"

"I could never leave Odessa.  This is my home, the railway is where I
live and these are the people I have known all my life.  It's not good,
but it might be worse in the place you call Turkey.  But if that's what
you want, I will help you to escape because I know how to find out where
every ship has come from."

"How do I discover which ship is going to Turkey?" asked Wladek.

"Easy.  We'll get the information from One Tooth Joe at the end of the
pier.  You'll have to give him a ruble.. "I'll bet he splits the money
with you."

"Fifty-fifty," said Stefan.. "You're learning fast, Muscovite." And with
that he leaped out of the carriage.

Wladek followed him as he ran swiftly between the carriages, again
conscious of how easily other boys moved, and how he limped.  When they
reached the end of the pier, Stefan took him into a small room full of
dust-covered books and old timetables.  Wladek couldn't see anyone
there, but then he heard a voice from behind a large pile of books
saying. "What do you want, urchin?  I don't have time to waste on you."

"Some information for my travelling companion, Joe.  When is the next
luxury cruise to Turkey?"

"Money up front," said an old man whose head appeared from behind the
books, a lined weatherbeaten face wearing a seaman's cap.  His black
eyes were taking in Wladek.

"Used to be a great sea dog," said Stefan in a whisper loud enough for
Joe to hear.

"None of your cheek, boy.  Where is the ruble?"

"My friend carries my purse," said Stefan.. "Show him the ruble,
Wladek."

Wladek pulled out a coin.  Joe bit it with his one remaining tooth,
shuffled over to the bookcase and pulled out a large green timetable.
Dust flew everywhere.  He started coughing as he thumbed through the
dirty pages, moving his short stubby, rope-worn finger down the long
columns of names'.

"Next Thursday the Renaska is coming in to pick up coal, probably will
leave on Saturday.  If the ship can load quickly enough, she may sail on
the Friday night and save the berthing riffs.  She'll dock on berth
seventeen."

"Thanks, One Tooth," said Stefan.. "I'll see if I can bring along any
more of my wealthy associates in the future." One Tooth Joe raised his
fist cursing, as Stefan and Wla-dek ran out on to the wharf.

For the next three days the two boys stole food, loaded grain and slept.
By the time the Turkish ship arrived on the following Thursday, Stefan
had almost convinced Wladek that he should remain in Odessa.  But
Wladek's fear of the Russians outweighed the attraction of his new life
with Stefan.

They stood on the quayside, staring at the new arrival docking at berth
17.

"How will I ever get on the ship?" asked Wladek.

"Simple," said Stefan.. "We can join the chain gang tomorrow morning.
I'll take the place behind you, and when the coal hold is nearly full,
you can jump in and hide while I pick up your basket and walk on down
the other side."

"And collect my share of the money, no doubt," said Wladek.

"Naturally," said Stefan.. "There must be some financial reward for my
superior intelligence or how could a man hope to sustain his belief in
free enterprise?"

They joined the chain gang first thing the next morning and hauled coal
up and down the gangplank until they were both ready to drop, but it
still wasn't enough.  The hold wasn't half full by nightfall.  The two
black boys slept soundly that night.  The following morning, they
started again and by midafternoon, when the hold was nearly full, Stefan
kicked Wladek's ankle.

"Next time, Muscovite," he said.

When they reached the top of the gangway, Wladek threw his coal in,
dropped the basket on the deck, jumped over the side of the hold and
landed on the coal, while Stefan picked up his basket and continued down
the other side of the gangplank whistling.

"Goodbye, my friend," he said, "and good luck with the infidel Turks."

Wladek pressed himself against a corner of the hold and watched the coal
come pouring in beside him.  The dust was everywhere, in his nose and
mouth, in his lungs and eyes.  With painful effort he avoided coughing
for fear of being heard by one of the ship's crew.  just as he thought
that he could no longer bear the air of the hold, and would have to
return to Stefan and think of some other way of escape, he saw the doors
slide shut above him.  He coughed luxuriously.

After a few moments he felt something take a bite at his ankle.  His
blood went cold, realising what it had to be.

He looked down, trying to work out where it had come from.  No sooner
had he thrown a piece of coal at the monster and sent him scurrying away
than another one came at him, then another and another.  The braver ones
went for his legs.  They seemed to appear from nowhere.  Black, large,
and

]iiingry.  It was the first time in his life that Wladek realised flat
rats had red eyes.  He clambered to the top of the pile (i' coal and
pulled open the hatch.  The sunlight came flooding through and the rats
disappeared back into their tuniie.Is in the coal.  He started to climb
out, but the ship was tlready well clear of the quayside.  He fell back
into the hold, terrified.  If the ship were forced to return and hand
Wladek over, he knew it would mean a one-way journey ))ack to camp and
the White Russians.  He chose to stay N%,ith the black rats.  As soon as
Wladek closed the hatch, they came at him again.  As fast as he could
throw lumps of coal at the verminous creatures, a new one would appear
from another angle.  Every few moments Wiadek had to open the hatch to
let some light in, for light seemed to be the only ally that would
frighten the black rodents away.

For two days and three nights Wladek waged a running battle with the
rats without ever catching a moment of quiet sleep.  When the ship
finally reached the port of Constantinople and a deck-hand opened the
hold, Wladek was black from his head to his knees with dirt, and red
from his knees to his toes with blood.  The deck-hand dragged him out.
Wladek tried to stand up but collapsed in a heap on the deck, When
Wladek came to - he knew not where or how much later - he found himself
on a bed in a small room with three men in long white coats who were
studying him carefully, speaking a tongue he did not know.  How many
languages were there in the world?  He looked at himself, still red and
black, and when he tried to sit up, one of the white-coated men, the
oldest of the three, with a thin, lined face and a goatee, pushed him
back down.  He addressed Wladek in the strange tongue.  Wladek shook his
head.  He then tried Russian.  Wladek again shook his head - that would
be the quickest way back to where he had come.  The next language the
doctor tried was German, and Wladek realised that his command of that
language was greater than his inquisitor's.

"You speak German?"

"Yes."

"Ah, so you're not Russian, then?"

"No."

"What were you doing in Russia?"

"Trying to escape.. "Ah." He then turned to his companions and seemed to
report the conversation in his own tongue.  They left the room.

A nurse came in and scrubbed him clean, taking little notice of his
cries of anguish.  She covered his legs in a thick, brown ointment and
left him to sleep again.  When Wladekawoke for the second time, he was
quite alone.  He lay staring at the white ceiling, considering his next
move.

Still not sure of which country he was in, he climbed on to the window
sill and stared out of the window.  He could see a market place, not
unlike the one in Odessa, except that the men wore long white robes and
had darker skins.  They also wore colourful hats that looked like small
flower pots upside down, and sandals on their feet.  The women were all
in black and had even their faces covered except for their black eyes.
Wladek watched the strange race in the market place bargaining for their
daily food; that was one thing at least that seemed to be international.

He watched the scene for several minutes before he noticed that running
down by the side of the building was a red iron ladder stretc I hing all
the way to the ground, not unlike the fire escape in his castle in
Slonim.  His castle.

Who would believe him now?  He climbed down from the window sill, walked
cautiously to the door, opened it and peered into the corridor.  Men and
women were walking UP and down, but none of them showed any interest in
him.

He closed the door gently, found his belongings in a cup board in the
corner of his room and dressed quickly.  His clothes were still black
with coal dust and felt gritty on his clean skin.  Back to the window
sill.  The window opened easily.  He gripped the fire escape, swung out
of the window and started to climb down towards freedom.  The first
thing that Mt him was the heat.  He wished he was no longer wearing the
heavy overcoat.

Once he touched the ground Wladek tried to run, but his legs were so
weak and painful that he could only walk slowly.  How he wished he could
rid himself of that limp.  He did not look back at the hospital until he
was lost in the throng of the crowd in the market place.

Wladek stared at the tempting food on the stalls and decided to buy an
orange and some nuts.  He went to the lining in his suit; surely the
money had been under his right arm?  "es it had, but it was no longer
there, and far worse, the ."IV

I er band had also gone.  The men in the white coats had colen his
possessions.  He considered going back to the hosijital to retrieve the
lost heirloom and decided against returning until he had had something
to eat.  Perhaps there was still some money in his pockets.  He searched
around in the large overcoat pocket and immediately found the three
notes and some coins.  They were all together with the doctoes map an '
d the silver band.  Wladek was overjoyed at the discovery.  He slipped
the silver band on, and pushed it above his elbow.

Wladek chose the largest orange he could see and a handful of nuts.  The
stalikeeper said something to him that he could not understand.  Wladek
felt the easiest way out of the language barrier was to hand over a
fifty ruble note.

The stallkeeper looked at it, laughed, and threw his arrm in the sky-
"Allah," he cried, snatching back the nuts and the orange from Wladek
and waving him away with his forefinger.  Wiadek walked off in despair;
a different language meant different money, he supposed.  In Russia he
had been poor; here he was pennilness.  He would have to steal an
orange; if he were caught, he would throw it back to the s tallkeeper.
Wiadek walked to the other end of the market place in the same way as
Stefan had done, but he couldn't imitate the swagger, and he didret feel
the same confidence.  He chose the end stall and when he was sure no one
was watching)

iig re he picked up an orange and started to run.  Suddenly the was
uproar. It seemed as if half the city were chasing him.

A big man jumped on the limping Wladek and threw I i i i  i to the
ground.  Six or seven people seized hold of diff(i,ent parts of his body
while a larger group thronged aroun(i a he was dragged back to the
stall.  A policeman awaited them Notes were taken, and there was a
shouted exchange between the stall owner and the policeman, each man's
voice rising with each new statement.  The policeman then turned to
Wladek and shouted at him too, but Wladek could not understand a word.
The policeman shrugged his shoulders and marched Wladek off by the ear.
People continued to bawl at him.  Some of them spat on him.  When Wladek
reached the police station, he was taken underground and thrown into a
tiny cell, already occupied by twenty or thirty criminals; thugs,
thieves or he knew not what.  Wladek did not speak to them, and they
showed no desire to talk to him.  He remained with his back to a wall,
cowering, quiet, terrified.  For at least a day and a night, he was left
there with no food or light.

The smell of excreta made him vomit until there was nothing left in him.
He never thought the day would come when the dungeons in Slonim would
seem un-crowded and peaceful.

The next morning Wladek was dragged from the basement by two guards, and
marched to a hall where he was lined up with several other prisoners.
They were all roped to each other around the waist and led from the jail
in a long line down into the street.

Another large crowd had gathered outside and their loud cheer of welcome
made Wladek feel that they had been waiting some time for the prisoners
to appear.  The crowd followed them all the way to the market place -
screaming, clapping and shouting - for what reason Wladek feared even to
contemplate.  The line came to a halt when they reached the market
square.  The first prisoner was unleashed from his rope and taken into
the centre of the square, which was already crammed with hundreds of
people, all shouting at the top of their voices.

Wladek watched the scene in disbelief.  When the first prisoner reached
the middle of the square, he was knocked to ]its knees by the guard and
then his right hand was tral)ped to a wooden block by a giant of a man
who raised t large sword above his head and brought it down with he
prisoner's wrist.  He only manforce, aiming at t gers.  The prisoner
screamed Lig(-d to catch the tips of the fin   e sword

\vltl) pain as the sword was raised again.  This time th !  i I t t he
wrist but still did not finish the job properly and the %N,rist dangled
from the prisoner's an-n, blood pouring out on to the sand.  The sword
was raised for a third time, and for the third time it came down.  The
prisoner's hand at last fell to the ground.

The crowd roared its approval.  The prisoner was at last released, and
he slumped in a heap, unconscious.  He was dragged off by a
disinterested guard and left on the edge of the crowd.  A weeping woman,
his wife, Wladek presumed, hurriedly tied a tourniquet of dirty cloth
around the bloody stump.  The second prisoner died of shock before the
fourth blow was struck.  The giant executioner was not interested in
death so he continued his task; he was paid to remove hands.

Wladek looked around in terror and would have vomited if there had been
anything left in his stomach to bring up.  He searched in every
direction for help or some means of escape; no one had told him that
under Islamic law the punishment for trying to escape would be the loss
of a foot.  His eyes darted around the mass of faces until he saw a man
in the crowd dressed like a European, wearing a dark suit.  The man was
standing about twenty yards away from Wladek and was watching the
spectacle with obvious disgust.  But he did not once look in Wladek's
direction, nor could he hear his shouts for help in the uproar arising
from the crowd every time the sword was brought down.  Was he French,
German, English or even Polish?  Wladek could not tell, but for some
reason he was there to witness this macabre spectacle.  Wladek stared at
him, willing him to look his way.  But he did not.  Wladek waved his
free arm but still could not gain the European's attention.  They untied
the man two in front of Wladek and dragged him along the ground towards
the block.  When the sword went up again the crowd cheered, the man in
the dark suit turned his eyes away ii-i disgust and Wladek waved
frantically at him again.

The man stared at Wladek and ten turned to talk to a companion, whom
Wladek had not noticed.  The guard was now struggling with the prisoner
immediately in front of Wladek.  He placed the prisoner's hand under the
strap; the Sword went up and removed the hand in one blow. The crowd
seemed disappointed.

Wladek stared again at the Europeans.  They were now both looking at
him.  He willed them to move, but they only continued to stare.

The guard came over% threw Wladek's fifty-ruble overcoat to the ground,
undid his shirt and rolled up his sleeve.

Wladek struggled futilely as he was dragged across the square.  He was
no match for the guard.  When he reached the block, he was kicked in the
back of his knees and co] lapsed to the ground.  The strap was fastened
over his right "wrist, and there was nothing left for him to do but
close his eyes as the sword was raised above the executioner's head.  He
waited in agony for the terrible blow, and then there was a sudden hush
in the crowd as the Baron's silver band fell from Wladek's elbow down to
his wrist and on to the block.  An eerie silence came over the crowd as
the heirloom shone brightly in the sunlight.  The executioner stopped
and put down his sword and studied the silver band.

Wladek opened his eyes.  He tried to pull it over Wladek's wrist., but
he couldn't get it past the leather strap.  A man in uniform ran quickly
forward and joined the executioner.  He too, studied the band and the
inscription and then ran to another man, who must have been Of higher
authority, because he walked more slowly towards Wladek.  The sword was
resting on the ground and the crowd were now beginning to jp-,ar and
hoot. The second officer also tried to pull the silver band off, but
could not get it over the block either and he seemed unwilling to uncf 0
the strap.  He shouted words at Wladek, who did not understand what he
was saying and replied in Polish. "I do not speak your language.)

The offirer looked surprised and threw his hands in the air shouting,
"Allah." That must be the same a. "Holy God' thought Wladek.  The
officer walked slowly towards the two men in the crowd wearing western
suits, arms going in every (I'i-(,,(-tion like a disorganised windmill.
Wladek prayed to I (,O(I; in such situations any man prays to any god,
be it \ I I al i or the Ave Maria.  The Europeans were still staring at
Vlidek, and Wladek nodded his head up and down frantically.  One of the
men in the dark suits joined the Turkish officer as he walked back
towards the block.  The former knelt down by Wladek's side, studied the
silver band and t lien looked carefully at him.  Wladek waited He cou d
converse in five languages and prayed that the gentleman would speak one
of them. His heart sank when the European turned to the officer and
addressed him in his own tongue.

block.  The officer was nodding his agreement, while the The crowd was
now hissing and throwing rotten fruit at the gentleman stared intently
at Wladek.

"Do you speak English?"

Wladek heaved a sigh of relief.. "Yes, sir, not bad.  I am Polish
citizen."

"How did you come into possession of that silver band?"

"It belong my father, sir.  He die in prison by the Germans in Poland,
and I captured and sent to a prison camp in Russia.  I escape and come
here by ship.  I have no eat for days.  When stallkeeper no accept my
rubles for orange, I take one because I much, much hungry."

The Englishman rose slowly from his knees, turned to the officer and
spoke to him very firmly.  The latter, in turn, addressed the
executioner who looked doubtful, but when the officer repeated the order
a little louder, he bent down and reluctantly undid the leather strap.
This time Wiadek did vomit.

fore they change their minds."

"Come with me," said the Englishman.. "And quickly, be- Still in a daze,
Wladek grabbed his coat and followed him.  The crowd booed and jeered,
throwing things at him as he departed, and the swordsman quickly put the
next prisoner's hand on the block and with his first blow only managed
to remove a thumb.  This seemed to pacify the rxiob, The Englishman
moved swifty through the hustling crowd out of the square where he was
joined by his companion.

"What's happening, Edward?"

"The boy says he is a Pole and that he escaped frozn Russia.  I told the
official in charge that he was English, so now he is our responsibility.
Lees get him to the embassy and find out if the boy's story bears any
resemblance to the truth."

Wladek ran between the two men as they hurried on through the bazaar and
into the Street of Seven Kings.  He could still faintly hear the mob
behind him screaming their approval every time the executioner brought
down his sword.

The two Englishmen walked over a pebbled courtyard towards a large grey
building and beckoned Wladek to, follow them.  On the door were the
welcoming words, British Embassy.  Once inside the building Wladek began
to feel safe for the first tirae.  He walked a pace behind the two men
down a long hall with walls -filled with paintings of strangely clad
soldiers and sailors.  At the far end was a magnificent portrait of an
old man in a blue naval uniform liberally adorned with medals.  His fine
beard reminded Wlade of the Baron.  A soldier appeared from nowhere and
saluted.

"Take this boy, Corporal Smitbers, and see that be gets a bath.  Then
feed him in the kitchens, When he has -aten and sraelis a little less
like a walking pigsty, bring him to my office."

"Yes, sir," said the corporal and saluted.

"Come with me, my lad." The soldier marched away.  Wladek followed him
obediently, having to run to keep up with his walking pace.  He was
taken to the basement of the embassy and left in a little room;

this time it had a window.  The corporal told him to get undressed and
then left him on his own.  He returned a few minutes later to lind
Wladek still sitting on the ed-,e twisting the silver band around and
around his wring

"Hurry up, lad; you're not on a rest cure.. "Sorry, sir," Wladek said.

"Don't call me sir, lad.  I am Corporal Smithers.  You c me corporal?"

"I am Wladek Koskiewicz.  You call me Wladek."

ret be funny with me, lad.  We've got enough fun people in the British
army without you wishing to join th ranks."

Wladek did not understand what the soldier meant.  undressed quickly.

"Follow me at the double."

Another marvelous bath with hot water and soap.  W dek thought of his
Russian protectress, and of the son might have become to her but for her
husband.  A new s of clothes, strange but clean and fresh-smelling.
Whose s had they belonged to?  The soldier was back at the door.

Corporal Smithers took Wladek to the kitchen and I him with a fat,
pink-faced cook, with the warmest face had seen since leaving Poland.
She reminded him of niani Wladek could not help wondering what would
happen her waistline after a few weeks in camp 201.

"Hello," she said with a beaming smile.. "What's your n then ?"

Wladek told her.

"Well, laddie, it looks as though you could do with a go British meal
inside of you - none of this Turkish mu will suffice.  We'll start with
some hot soup and beef.  You need something substantial if you're to
face Mr.  Prend gast." She laughed.. "Just remember, his bite's not as
had his bark.  Although he is an Englishman, his heart's in t right
place."

"You are not an English, Mrs.  Cook?" asked Wladek, su prised.

"Good Lord no, laddie, I'm Scottish.  There's a world difference.  We
hate the English more than the Gen-n do," she said, laughing.  She set a
dish of steaming sou entirely forgotten that food could smell and taste
so appeti.,-ing.  He ate the meal slowly for fear it might not happen
again for a very long time.

The corporal reappeared.. "Have you had enough to eat, my ]ad ?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr.  Corporal., The corporal gave Wladek a suspicious
look, but he saw no trace of cheek in the boy's expression.

"Good, then let', be moving.  Can't be late on parade for Mr.
Prendergast." The corporal disappeared through the kitchen door, and
Wladek stared at the cook.  He hated always having to slv goodbye to
someone he'd just met,, especially when they had been so kind.

"Off you go, laddie, if you know what's good for you., c I Thank You,
Mrs.  Cook," said Wiadek.. "Your food is best can ever remember."

The cook smiled at him.  He again had to limp hard to catch up with the
corporal, whose marching pace still kept Wladek trotting, The soldier
came to a b door that Wladek nearly ran into.  risk Mt outside a

"Look where You're going, my lad, look where youre going.$

The corporal gave a short rap-rap on the door.

"Come," said a voice, The corporal opened the door and saluted.. "The
Polish boy, sir, as you requested, scrubbed and fed."

"Thank you, Corporal.  Perhaps you would be kind enough to ask Mr. Crant
to join us."

Edward Prendergast looked up from his desk.  He waved Wiadek to a seat
without speaking and continued to work at some papers.  Wladek sat
looking at him and then at the portraits on the wall.  More generals and
admirals and that old, bearded gentleman again, this time in khaki army
uniform.  A few minutes later the other Englishman he remembered from
the market square came in.

"Thank You for joining us, Harry.  Do have a seat, old boy.)

Mr.  Prendergast turned to Wladek.. "Now, my lad, let's hear your story
from the beginning, with no exaggerations, only the truth.  Do you
understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Wladek started his story with his days in Poland.  It took fiiiii some
time to find the right English words.  It was apparent from the looks on
the faces of the two Englishmen that they were at first incredulous.
They occasionally stopped him and asked questions, nodding to each other
at his answers.  After an hour of talking Wladek's life history had
reached the office of His Britannic Majesty's second consul to Turkey.

"I think, Harry," said the second consul, "it is our duty to inform the
Polish Delegation immediately and then hand young Koskiewicz over to
them as I feel in the circumstances he is undoubtedly their
responsibility."

"Agreed," said the man called Harry.. "You know, my boy, you had a
narrow escape in the market today.  The Sher that is the old Islamic
religious law - which provides for cutting off a hand for the theft was
officially abandoned in theory years ago.  In fact it is a crime under
the Ottoman Penal Code to inflict such a punishment.  Nevertheless, in
practice the barbarians still continue to carry it out." He shrugged.

"Why not my hand?" asked Wladek, holding on to his wrist.

"I told them they could cut off all the Moslem hands they wanted, but
not an Englishman's," Edward Prendergast interjected.

"Thank God," said Wladek faintly.

"Edward Prendergast, actually," he said, smiling for the first time. The
second consul continued.. "You can spend the night here, and we will
take you to your own delegation tomorrow.  The Poles do not actually
have an embassy in Constantinople," he said, slightly disdainfully, "but
my opposite number is a good fellow considering he's a foreigner." He
pressed a button and the corporal reappeared immediately.

"Sir."

"Corporal, take young Koskiewicz to his room, and in the morning see he
is given breakfast and is brought to me at nine sharp."

"Sir.  This way, boy, at the double."

Wladek was led away by the corporal.  He was not even given enough time
to thank the two Englishmen who had saved his hand - and perhaps his
life.  Back in the clean little room, with its clean little bed neatly
turned down as if he were an honoured guest, he undressed, threw his
pillow on the floor and slept soundly until the morning light shone
through the tiny window.

"Rise and shine, lad, sharpish."

It was the corporal, his uniform immaculately smart and knife-edge
pressed, looking as though he had never been to bed.  For an instant
Wladek, surfacing from sleep, thought himself back in camp 201, as the
corporal's banging on the end of the bed frame with his cane resembled
the noise he had grown so accustomed to.  He fell out of bed and reached
for his clothes.

"Wash first, my lad, wash first.  We don't want your horrible smells
worrying Mr.  Prendergast so early in the morning, do we?"

Wladek was unsure which part of himself to wash, so unusually clean did
he feel himself to be.  The corporal was staring at him.

"What's wrong with your leg, lad?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Wladek, turning himself away from the staring
eyes.

"Right.  I'll be back in three minutes.  Three minutes, do you hear, my
lad, be sure you're ready."

Wladek washed his hands and face quickly and then dressed.  He was
waiting at the end of the bed in his long bearskin coat when the
corporal returned to take him to the second consul.  Mr.  Prendergast
welcomed him and seemed to have softened considerably since their first
meeting.

"Good morning, Koskiewicz.. "Good morning, sir.. "Did you enjoy your
breakfast?"

"I no had breakfast, sir."

"Why not?" said the second consul) looking towards the corporal.

"Overslept, I'm afraid, sir.  He would have been late for you."

well, we must see what we can do about that.  Corporal, will you ask
Mrs.  Henderson to try and rustle up an apple or something?"

"Yes, sir."

Wladek and the Second Consul walked slowly along the corridor towards
the embassy front door) and across the pebbled courtyard to a waiting
car, an Austin, one of the few engine driven vehicles in Turkey and
Wladek's first journey in one.  He was sorry to be leaving the British
embassy.  It was the first place in which he had felt safe for years. He
wondered if he was ever going to sleep more than one night in the same
bed for the rest of his life.  The corporal ran down the steps and took
the driver's seat.  He passed Wladek an apple and some fresh warm bread.

"See there are no crumbs left in the car, lad.  The cook sends her
compliments."

The drive through the hot busy streets was conducted at walking pace as
the Turks did not believe anything could go faster than a camel, and
made no attempt to clear a path for the little Austin.  Even with all
the windows open Wladek was sweating from the oppressive heat while Mr.
Prendergast remained quite cool and unperturbed.  Wladek hid himself in
the back of the car for fear that someone who had witnessed the previous
day's events might recognise him and stir the mob to anger again.  When
the little black Austin came to a halt outside a small decaying building
marked. "Konsulat Polski', Wladek felt a twinge of excitement mingled
with disappointment.

The three of them climbed outing

"Where's the apple core, boy?" demanded the corporal.

"I eat him."

The corporal laughed and knocked on the door.  A friendly-looking little
man with dark hair and firm jaw opened the door to them.  He was in
shirt sleeves and deeply tanned, obviously by the Turkish sun.  He
addressed them in Polish.  His words were the first Wladek had heard in
his native tongue since leaving the labour camp.

Wladek answered quickly, explaining his presence.  His fellow countryman
turned to the British second consul.

"This way, Mr.  Prendergast," he said in perfect English.. "It was good
of you to bring the boy over personally."

A few diplomatic niceties were exchanged before Prendergast and the
corporal took their leave.  Wladek gazed at them, fumbling for an
English expression more adequate tha. "Thank you."

Prendergast patted Wladek on the head as he might a cocker spaniel.  The
corporal closed the door, and winked at Wladek.. "Good luck, my lad; God
knows you deserve it."

The Polish consul introduced himself to Wladek as Pawel Zaleski.  Again
Wladek was required to recount the story of his life, finding it easier
in Polish than he had in English.  Pawel Zaleski heard him out in
silence, shaking his head sorrowfully.

"My poor child," he said heavily.. "You have borne more than your share
of our country's suffering for one so young.  And now what are we to do
with you?"

"I must return to Poland and reclaim my castle," said Wladek.

Toland," said Pawel Zaleski.. "Where's that?  The area of land where you
lived remains in dispute and there is still heavy fighting going on
between the Poles and the Russians.  General Piludski is doing all he
can to protect the territorial integrity of our fatherland.  But it
would be foolish for any of us to be optimistic.  There is little left
for you now in Poland.  No, your best plan would be to start a new life
in England or America."

"But I don't want to go to England or America.  I am Polish."

"You will always be Polish, Wladek, no one can take that away from you
wherever you decided to settle, but you must be realistic about your
life - which hasn't even begun."

Wladek lowered his head in despair.  Had he gone through all this only
to be told he could never return to his native land?  He fought back the
tears.

Pawel Zaleski put  arm round the boy's shoulders.. "Never forget that
you are one of the lucky ones who escaped and came out of the holocaust
alive.  You only have to remember your friend, Doctor Dubien, to be
aware of what life might have been like."

Wladek didn't speak.

"Now, you must put all thoughts of the past behind you and think only
for the future, Wladek, and perhaps in your lifetime you will see Poland
rise again, which is more than I dare hope for."

Wladek remained silent.

"Well, there's no need to make an immediate decision," said the consul
kindly.. "You can stay here for as long as it takes you to decide on
your future."

The future was something that was worrying Anne.  The first few months
of her marriage were happy, marred only by her anxiety over William's
increasing dislike of Henry, and her new husband's seeming inability to
start working.

Henry was a little touchy on the point, explaining to Anne that he was
still disorientated by the war and that he wasn't willing to rush into
something he might well have to stick with for the rest of his life. She
found this hard to swallow and finally it brought on their first row.

"I don't understand why you haven't opened that real estate business you
used to be so keen on, Henry."

"I can't.  The time isn't quite right.  The real estate market's not
looking that promising at the moment."

"You've been saying that now for nearly a year; I wonder if it will ever
be promising enough for you."

"Sure it will 3truth is, I the myself set up.  Now if you would loan me
some of your money, I could get cracking tomorrow."

"That's impossible, Henry.  You know the terms of Richard's will; my
allowance was stopped the day we were married and now I have only the
capital left."

"A little of that would help me on my way and don't for-get that
precious boy of yours has well over'twenty million in the family trust."

"You seem to know a lot about William's trust," said Anne suspiciously.

"Oh, come on, Anne, give me a chance to be your hu S band.  Don't make
me feel like a guest in my own home.. "What's happened to your money,
Henry?  You always led me to believe that you had enough to startyour
own business.. "You've always known I was not in Richard's class
financially, and there was a time Anne, when you claimed it didn't
matter.  I'd marry you." "Henry, if you were penniless," he mocked.

Anne burst into tears, and Henry tried to console her She spent the rest
of the evening in his arms talking the Problem over.  Anne managed to
convince herself she was beingunwifelyand ungenerous.

She had more money than she could possibly need: couldn't she trust a
little of it to the man to whom she was so willing to entrust the rest
of her life?

Acting upon these thoughts, she agreed to let Henry have one hundred
thousand dollars to ,et up his own real estate firm in Boston.  Within a
month Henry had found a smart new office in a fashionable part of town,
a pointed staff, and started work.    p Soon he was mixing with all the
city politicians and real estate men of Boston.  They talked of the boom
in farm land, and they flattered Henry.  Anne didn't care very much for
them as social company, but Henry was happy and appeared to be
successful at his work.

William, now fourteen, was in this third year at St.  Paul,s, sixth in
his class overall and first in mathematics.  He had also becozne a
rising figure in the Debating Society.  He wrote to his mother once a
week, reporting his progress, always addressing his letters to Mrs.
Richard Kane, refusing to acknowledge that Henry Osborne even existed.
Anne wasn't sure whether she should talk to him about it, and each
Monday she would carefully extract William's letter from the box to be
certain that Henry never saw the envelope.  She c n tinued to hope that
in time William would come around to liking Henry, but it became clear
that that hope was unrealistic when, in one particular letter to his
mother, he sought her permission to stay with his friend, Matthew
Lester, for the summer holidays.  The request came as a painful blow to
Anne, but she took the easy way out and fell in with William's plans,
which Henry also seemed to favour.

William hated Henry Osborne and nursed the hatred passionately, not sure
what he could actually do about it.  He was relieved that Henry never
visited him at school; he could not have tolerated the other boys seeing
his mother with that man.  It was bad enough that he had to live with
him in Boston.

For the first time since his mothees marriage, William was anxious for
the holidays to come.

The Lesters' Packard chauffeured William and Matthew noiselessly to the
summer camp in Vermont.  On the journey, Matthew casually asked William
what he intended to do when the time came for him to leave St. Paut's.

"When I leave I will be top of the class, Class President, and have won
the Hamilton Memorial Mathematics Scholarship to Harvard," replied
William without hesitation.

"Why is all that so important?" asked Matthew innocently'My father did
all three.. "When you've finished beating your father, I will introduce
you to mine." William smiled.

The two boys had an energetic and enjoyable four weeks in Ven-nont
playing every game from chess to American football.  When the month came
to an end they travelled to New York to spend the last part of the
holiday with the Lester family.  They were greeted at the door by a
butler who addressed Matthew as sir and a twelve-year-old girl covered
in freckles who called him Fatty.  It made William laugh because his
friend was so thin and it was she who was fat.  The little girl smiled
and revealed teeth almost totally hidden behind braces.

"You would never believe Susan was my sister, would you?" asked Matthew
disdainfully.

"No, I suppose not," said William, smiling at Susan.. "She's so much
better looking than you."

She adored William from that moment on.

William adored Matthew's father the moment they met; he reminded him in
so many ways of his own father and he begged Charles Lester to let him
see the great bank of which he was chairman.  Charles Lester thought
carefully about the request.  No child had been allowed to enter the
orderly precincts of 17 Broad Street before, not even his own son.  He
compromised, as bankers often do, and showed the boy around the Wall
Street building on a Sunday afternoon.

William was fascinated to see the different offices, the vaults, the
foreign exchange dealing room, the board room and the chairman's office.
Compared with Kane and Cabot, the Lester bank was considerably more
extensive, and William knew from his own small personal investment
account, which provided him with a copy of the annual general report,
that they had a far larger capital base than Kane and Cabot.  William
was silent, pensive, as they were driven home in the car.

"Well, William, did you enjoy your visit to my bank?" asked Charles
Lester genially.

"Oh, yes, sir," replied William.. "I certainly did enjoy it." William
paused for a moment and then added. "I intend to be chairman of your
bank one day, Mr.  Lester."

Charles Lester laughed, and dined out on the story of how young William
Kane had reacted to Lester and Co., which in turn made those who heard
it laugh too.

Only William had not meant the remar c as a j'o ce.

Anne was shocked when Henry came back to her for more money.

"It's as safe as a house," he assured her.. "Ask Alan Lloyd.

As chairman of the bank he can only have your best interests at heart."

"But two hundred and fifty thousand?5 Anne queried.

"A superb opportunity, my dear.  Look upon it as an investment that will
be worth double that amount within two years.

After another more prolonged row, Anne gave in once again and life
returned to the same smooth routine.  When ecked her investment
portfolio with the bank, Anne she ch found she was down to one hundred
and forty thousand doll     She considered discussing ars, but Henry
seemed to be,.seeing all the right people and clinching all the right
deal   Cabot, but the whole problem with Alan Lloyd at Kane and in the
end dismissed the idea; it would have meant displaying distrust in the
husband whom she wished the world to respect, and surely Henry would not
have made the suggeshat the loan would have tion at all had he not been
sure t met with Alan's approval.   r MacKenzie again to find Anne also
started seeing Docto having another baby, but out if there was any hope
of her h he still advised against the idea. With the high blood presrew
Maesure that had caused her earlier miscarriage, And Kenzie did not
consider thirty-five a good age for Anne to start thinking about being a
mother again.  Anne raised the idea with the grandmothers, but they
agreed wholeheartedly with the views of the good doctor.  Neither of
them cared for even less for the thought Henry very much, and they cared
of an Osborne offspring making claims on the Kane family fortune after
they were gone.  Anne began to resign herself to the fact that William
was going to be her only child.  Henry became very angry about what he
described as her live, she betrayal, and told Anne that if Richard were
still a would have tried again.  How different the two men were t for
why she had loved she thought, and couldn't accoun   ing that his them
both.  she tried to soothe Henry, pray business projects would work out
well and keep him fully occupied.  He certainly had taken to working
very late at the office.

It was on a Monday in October, the weekend after they had celebrated
their second wedding anniversary, that Anne started receiving the
letters from an unsigned "friend', informing her that Henry could be
seen escortin other

.  9 women around Boston, and one lady in particular whom the writer
didn't care to name.  To begin with Anne burned the letters immediately
and although they worried her, she never discussed them with Henry,
praying that each letter would be the last.  She couldn't even summon up
the courage to raise the matter with Henry when he asked her for the
last hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

"I am going to lose the whole deal if I don't have that money right now,
Anne."

"But it's all I have, Henry.  If I give you that amount, I'll be left
with nothing."

"This house alone must be worth over two hundred thousand.  You could
mortgage it tomorrow."

"The house belongs to William."

"William, William, William.  It's always William who gets in the way of
my success,9 shouted Henry as he stormed out.

He returned home after midnight, contrite, and told her he would rather
she kept her money and that he went under, for at least they would still
have each other.  Anne was comforted by his words and later they made
love.  She signed a cheque for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars
the next morning, trying to forget that it would leave her penniless
until Henry pulled off the deal he was pursuing.  She couldn't help
wondering if it was more than a coincidence that Henry had asked for the
"act amount that remained of her inheritance.

The next month Anne missed her period.

Doctor MacKenzie was anxious but tried not to show it; the grandmothers
were horrified and did; while Henry was delighted and assured Anne that
it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him in his
whole life, and even agreed to building a new children's wing for the
hospital that Richard had planned before he died.

When William heard the news by letter from his mother, he sat deep in
thought all evening unable to tell even Matthew what was preoccupying
him.  The following Saturday morning, having been granted special
permission by his housemaster, Grumpy Raglan, he boarded a train to
Boston and on arrival withdrew one hundred dollars from his savings
account.  He then proceeded to the law offices of Cohen, Cohen and
Yablons in Jefferson Street.  Mr.  Thomas Cohen, the senior partner, a
tall angular man with a dark jowl was somewhat surprised when William
was ushered into his office.

"I have never been retained by a sixteen-year-old before," Mr.  Cohen
began.. "It will be quite a novelty for m he hesitated '-Mr.  Kane." He
found Mr.  Kane did not run easily off the tongue.. "Especially as your
father was not exactly - how shall I put it?  - known for his sympathy
for my co-religionists."

"My father," replied William, "was a great admirer of the achievements
of the Hebrew race and in particular had considerable respect for your
firm when you acted on behalf of rivals.  I heard him mention your name
on several occasions.  That's why I have chosen you, Mr.  Cohen, not you
me.

That should be reassurance enough."

Mr.  Cohen quickly put aside the fact that William was only sixteen.
"Indeed, indeed.  I feel I can make an exception for the son of Richard
Kane.  Now, what can we do for you?"

"I wish you to answer three questions for me, Mr.  Cohen.  One, I want
to know if my mother, Mrs.  Henry Osborne, were to give birth to a
child, son or daughter, whether that child would have any legal rights
to the Kane family trust.  Two, do I have any legal obligations to Mr.
Henry Osborne because he is married to my mother, and three, at what age
can I insist that Mr.  Henry Osborne leave my house on Louisburg Square
in Boston?" Thomas Cohen's quill pen sped furiously across the paper ill
front of him, spattering little blue spots on an already ink-stained
desk top.

William placed one hundred dollars on the desk, T))e lawyer looked taken
aback but picked the notes up anj counted them.

'ljse the money prudently, Mr.  Cohen.  I will need a go)(I lawyer when
I leave Harvard."

"You have already been accepted at Harvard, Mr.  Kane?  My
congratulations.  I am hoping my son will go there too.. "No, I have
not, but I shall have done so in two years' time.  I will return to
Boston to see you in one week, Mr.  Cohen.  If I ever hear in my
lifetime from anyone t)tbi-r than yourself on this subject, you may
consider our relationship at an end.  Good day, sir.. "I'hOmas Cohen
would have also said good day, if be could have spluttered the words out
before William closed the door behind him.

William returned to the offices of Cohen, Cohen and YabIons seven days
later.

"Ah, Mr.  Kane," said Thomas Cohen, "how nice to see You again.  Would
you care for some coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"Shall I send someone out for a Coca-Cola?" William7s face was
expressionless.

"To business, to business," said Mr.  Cohen, slightly embzlr-lassed. "We
have dug around a little on your behalf, Mr.  Kane, with the help of a
very respectable firm of private investigators to assist us with the
questions you asked that were not purely academic.  I think i can safely
say we, have the answers to all Your questions.  You asked if Mr.
Osborne's Offspring by your mother, were there to be any, would have a
claim on the Kane estate, or in particular on the trust left.  to you by
your father.  No is the simple answer, but of course Mrs.  Osborne can
leave any part of the five hundred thousand dollars bequeathed to her by
your father to whom she I

"However, it may interest you to know, Mr.  Ka vour mother has drawn out
the entire five hundred sand from her private account at Kane and Cabot
the last eighteen months, but we have been unable tiow the money has
been used.  It is possible she m decided to deposit the amount in
another bank." William looked shocked, the first sign of any la
self-contrrjl that Thomas Cohen had noted.

"There would be no reason for her to do that," said.. "The money carx
only have gone to one person." The lawyer remained silent, expecting to
hear m William steadied himself and added nothing, so Mr.  continued.

"The answer to your second question is that you personal or legal
obligations to Mr, Henry Osborn Under the terms of your father's will,
you mother i tee of the estate along with a Mr.  Alan Lloyd and John
Preston, your surviving godparents, until you age at twenty-one."

Thomas Cohen looked up again.  William's face no expression at all.
Cohen had already learned t meant he should continue.

"And thirdly, Mr.  Kane, you can never remove borne from Beacon Hill as
long as he remains ma your mother and continues to reside with her.  The
p comes into your possession by natural right on he Were he still alive
then, you could require him I think you will find that covers all your
questio Kane

"Thank -you, Mr.  Cohen," said William.. "I am obl your efficiency and
discretion in this matter.  Now you could let me know your professional
charges?"

"One hundred dollars doesn't quite cover the w Kane, but we have faith
in your future and .  .  :

"do not wish to be beholden to anyone, Mr.  Coh must treat me as someone
with whom you mightn circumstances we would have charged you two hundred
and twenty dollars, Mr.  Kane."

William took six twenty-dollar notes from his inside pocket and handed
them over to Cohen.  This time, the lawyer did not count them.

"I am grateful to you for your assistance, Mr.  Cohen, I azn sure we
shall meet again.  Good day, sir."

(Good day, Mr.  Kane.  May I be permitted to say that I never had the
privilege of meeting your distinguished father but having dealt with you
I wish that I had." William smiled and ,of the'ned.. "Thank you, sir."

Preparing for the baby ke t Anne fully occupied; she found p herself
easily tired and resting a good deal.  Whenever she enquired of Henry
how business was going, he always had some plausible answer to hand,
enough to reassure her that all was well without supplying her with any
actual details.

Then one morning the anonymous letters started coming again.  This time
they gave more details, the names of the women involved and the places
they could be seen with Henry.  Anne burned them even before she could
commit the names or places to memory.  She didn't want to believe that
her husband could be unfaithful while she was carrying his child.
Someone was jealous and had it in for Henry, and he or she had to be
lying.

The letters kept coming, sometimes with new names.  Anne continued to
destroy them, but now they were beginning to prey on her mind.  She
wanted to discuss the whole Problem with someone, but couldn't think of
anybody in whom she could conlide.  The grandmothers would have been
appalled and were, in any case, already prejudiced against Henry.  Alan
Lloyd at the bank could not be expected to understand as he had never
married, and Williamwas far too young. No one seemed suitable.  Anne
considered consulting a psychiatrist after listening to a lecture given
by Sigmund Freud, but a Lowell could never discuss a family problem with
a complete stranger.

The matter finally came to a head in a way that even Anne had not'been
prepared for.  One Monday morning, she received three letters, the usual
one from William addressed to Mrs.  Richard Kane, asking if he could
once again spend his summer holidays with his friend Matthew Lester in
New York.  Another anonymous letter alleging that Henry was having an
affair with, with ...  Milly Preston, and the third from Alan Lloyd, as
chairman of the bank, asking if she would be kind enough to telephone
and make an appointment to see him.  Anne sat down heavily, feeling
breathless and unwell, and forced herself to re-read all three letters.
William's letter stung her by its detachment.  She hated knowing that he
preferred to spend his holidays with Matthew Lester.  They had been
growing continually further apart since her marriage to Henry.  The
anonymous letter suggesting that Henry was having an affair with her
closest friend was impossible to ignore.  Anne couldn't help remembering
that it had been Milly who had introduced her to Henry in the first
place, and that she was William's godmother.  The third letter from Alan
Lloyd somehow filled her with even more apprehension.  The only other
letter she had ever received from Alan was one of condolence on the
death of Richard.  She feared another could only mean more bad news.

She called the bank.  The operator put her straight through.

"Alan, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, my dear, I would like to have a chat sometime.  When would suit
you?"

"Is it bad news?" asked Anne.

"Not exactly, but I would rather not say anything over the phone, but
there's nothing for you to worry about.  Are you free for lunch, by any
chance?"

"Yes I am, Alan."

"Well, let's meet at the Ritz at one o'clock.  I look forward to seeing
you then, Anne."

One o'clock, only three hours away.  Her mind switched from Alan to
William to Henry, but settled on Milly Preston.  Could it be true?  Anne
decided to take a long warm bath and put on a new dress.  It didn't
help.  She felt, and was beginning to look, bloated.  Her ankles and
calves, which had always been so elegant and so slim, were becoming
mottled and puffy.  It was a little frightening to conjecture how much
worse things might become before the baby was born.  She sighed at
herself in the mirror and did the best she could with her outward
appearance.

"You look very smart, Anne.  If I weren't an old bachelor considered
well past it, I'd flirt with you shamelessly," said the silver baired
banker, greeting her with a kiss on both cheeks as though he were a
French general.

He guided her to his table.  It was an unspoken tradition that the table
in the corner was always occupied by the chairman of Kane and Cabot, if
he were not lunching at the bank.  Richard had done so and now it was
the turn of Alan Lloyd.  It was the first occasion that Anne had sat at
that table with anyone.  Waiters fluttered around them like starlings,
seeming to know exactly when to disappear and reappear without
interrupting a private conversation.

"When's the baby due, Anne?"

"Oh, not for another three months."

"No complications, I hope.  I seem to remember .  .

"Well," admitted Anne, "the doctor sees me once a week and pulls long
faces about my blood pressure, but I'm not too worried."

"I'm so glad, my dear," he said and touched her hand gently as an uncle
might.. "You do look rather tired, I hope you're not overdoing things."

Alan Lloyd raised his hand slightly.  A waiter materialised at his side,
and they both ordered.

"Anne, I want to seek some advice from you."

Anne was painfully aware of Alan Lloyd's gift for diplomacy.  He wasn't
having lunch with her for advice.  There was no doubt in her mind that
he had come to dispense it kindly.

"Do you have any idea how well Henry's real estate projects are going?"

"No, I don't," said Anne.. "I never involve myself with Henry's business
activities.  You'll remember I didn't with Richard's either.  Why?  Is
there any cause for concern?"

"No, no, none of which we at the bank are aware.  On the contrary, we
know Henry is bidding for a large city contract to build the new
hospital complex.  I was only enquiring, because he has come to the bank
for a loan of five hundred thousand dollars."

Anne was stunned.

"I see that surprises you)' he said.. "Now, we know from your stock
account that you have a little under twenty thousand dollars in reserve)
while running a small overdraft of seventeen thousand dollars on your
personal account."

Anne put down her soup spoon horrified.  She had not realised that she
was so badly overdrawn.  Alan could see her distress.

"Thaes not what this lunch is about, Anne," he added quickly.. "The bank
is quite happy to lose money on the personal account for the rest of
your life.  William is making over a million dollars a year on the
interest from his trust, so your overdraft is hardly significant, nor
indeed is the five hundred thousand Henry is requesting, if it were to
receive your backing as William's legal guardian."

"I didwt realise that I had any authority over William's trust money,"
said Anne.

"You don't on the capital sum but legally the interest earned from his
trust can be invested in any project thought to benefit William, and is
under the guardianship of yourself., myself and Milly Preston as
godparents until William is twenty-one.  Now as chairman of William's
trust I can put up that five hundred thousand with your backing.  Milly
has already informed me that she would be quite happy to give her
approval so that would give you two votes and my opinion would therefore
be invalid."

"Milly Preston has already given her approval, Alan?"

yes.  Has she mentioned the matter to you?"

Anne did not reply immediately.. "What is your opinion?" she asked
finally.

"Well, I haven't seen Henry's accounts, because he only started his
company eighteen months ago and he doesn't bank with us, so I have no
idea what expenditure is over income for the current year and what
return he is predicting for 1923."

"You realise that during the last eighteen months I've given Henry five
hundred thousand of my own money?" said Anne.

"My chief teller infon-ns me any time a large amount of hat cash is
withdrawn from any account.  I didn't know t was what you were using the
money for, and it was none of my business, Anne.  That money was left to
you by Richard and is yours to spend as you see fit.

"Now, in the case of the interest from the family trust, that is a
different matter.  If you decide to withdraw five hundred thousand
dollars to invest in Henry's firm, then the bank will have to inspect
Henry's books, because the money would be considered as another
investment for William's portfolio.  Richard did not give the trustees
the authority to make loans, only to invest on William's behalf.  I have
already explained this situation to Henry, and if we were to go ahead
and make this investment, the trustees would have to decide what
percentage of Henry's company would be an appropriate exchange for the
five hundred thousand.  William, of course, is always aware what we are
doing with his trust income, because we saw no reason not to comply with
his request that he receive a quarterly investment programme statement
from the bank in the same way as all the trustees do.  1 have no doubt
in my own mind that he will have his own ideas on the subject which he
will be fully aware of after he receives the next quarterly report.

"It may amuse you to know, that since William's sixteenth birthday he
has been sending me back his own opinions on every investment we make.
To begin with I looked on them with the passing interest of a benevolent
guardian.

Of late, I have been studying them with considerable respect.  When
William takes his place on the board of Kane and Cabot, this bank may
well turn out to be too small for him.

"I've never been asked for advice on Williams' trust before," said Anne
forlornly.

"Well, my dear, you do see the reports that the bank sends YOU on the
first day of every quarter, and it has always been in your power as a
trustee to query any of the investments we make on Williari2s behalf."

Alan Lloyd took a slip of paper from his pocket, and remained silent
until the sommelier had finished pouring the Nuits Saint Georges.  Once
he was out of earshot, Alan continued.

"William has over twenty-one million invested in the bank at four and a
half percent until his twenty-first birthday.  We reinvest the interest
for him each quarter in stocks and shares.  We have never in the past
invested in a private company.  It may surprise you to hear, Anne, that
we now carry out this reinvestment on a fifty-fifty basis : fifty
percent following the bank's advice and fifty percent following the
suggestions put forward by William.  At the moment we are a little ahead
of Mm, much to the satisfaction of Tony Simmons, our investment
director, whom William has promised a Rolls-Royce in any year that he
can beat the boy by over ten percent."

"But where would William get hold of the ten thousand dollars for a
Rolls-Royce if he lost the bet - when he's not allowed to touch the
money in his trust until he is twentyone?"

"I do not know the answer to that, Anne.  What I do know is he would be
far too proud to come to us direct and I am certain he would not have
made the wager if he could not honour it.  Have you by any chance seen
his famous ledger book lately?"

"The one given to him by his grandmothers?"

Alan Lloyd nodded.

"No, I haven't seen it since he went away to school.  I didn't know it
still existed."

"It still exists and I would" said the banker, "give a month's wages to
know what the credit column in that ledger book now stands at.  I
suppose you are aware that he banks that money with Lester's in New
York, and not with us?  They don't take on private accounts at under ten
tliou- W. "And do remember to take care of yourself, Anne.

You're sand dollars.  I'm also fairly certain they wouldn't make an
exception, even for the son of Richard Kane.. "The son of Richard Kane,"
said Anne.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude, Anne."

"No, no, there is no doubt he is the son of Richard Kane.  Do you know
he has never asked me for a penny since his twelfth birthday?" She
paused.. "I think I should warn you, Alan, that he won't take kindly to
being told he has to invest five hundred thousand dollars of his trust
money in Henry's company.

"They don't get on well?" enquired Alan, his eyebrows rising.

"I'm afraid not," said Anne.

"I'm sony to hear that.  It certainly would make the transaction more
complicated if William really stood out against the whole scheme.
Although he has no authority over the trust until he is twenty-one, we
have already discovered through sources of our own that he is not beyond
going to an independent lawyer to find Out his legal position.. "Good
God," said Anne '

you can't be serious.. "Oh, yes, quite serious, but there's nothing for
you to worry about.  To be frank, we at the bank were all rather
impressed and once we realised where the enquiry was coming from, we
released information we would normally have kept very inuch to
ourselves.  For some private reason he oh viously didn't want to
approach us directly.. "Good heavens," said Anne, "what will he be like
when he's train?)

"That will depends' said Alan, "on whether he is lucky enough to fall in
love with someone as lovely as you.  That was always Richard's
strength."

"You are an old flatterer, Alan.  Can we leave the problem of the five
hundred thousand until I have had a chance to discuss it with Henry?"

"Of course, my dear.  I told you I had come to seek your advice."

Alan ordered coffee and took Anne's hand gently in his.

far more important than the fate of a few thousand dollars.

When Anne returned home from lunch she immediately started to worry
about the other two letters she had received that morning.  Of one thing
she was now certain,, after all she had learned about her own son from
Alan Lloyd; she would be wise to give in gracefully and let William
spend the forthcoming holidays with his friend, Matthew Lester.

Henry and Milly's relationship raised a problem to which she was unable
to compose so simple a solution.  She sat in the maroon leather chair,
Richard's favourite, looking out through the bay window on to a
beautiful bed of red and white roses, seeing nothing, only thinking.
Anne always took a long time to make a decision, but once she had, she
seldom went back on it.

Henry came home earlier than usual that evening, and she couldret help
wondering why.  She soon found out.

"I hear you had lunch with Alan Lloyd tod he entered the room.    ay,"
he said a. "Who told you that, Henry?"

"I have spies everywhere," he said, laughing.

"Yes, Alan invited me to lunch.  He wanted to know how I felt about the
bank investing five hundred thousand dollars of William's trust money in
your company."

"What did you say?" asked Henry, trying not to sound anxious.

"I told him I wanted to discuss the matter with you first, but why in
heaven's name didn't you let me know earlier that you had approached the
bank, Henry?  I felt such a fool hearing the whole thing from Alan for
the first time."

"I didn't think you took any interest in business, my dear, and I only
found out by sheer accident that you, Alan Lloyd and Milly Preston are
all trustees, and each have a vote on WilliariYs investment income."

"How did you find out," asked Anne, "when I wasn't aware of the
situation myself

"You don't read the small print, my darling.  As a rn atter of fact, I
didn't myself until just recently.  Quite by chance Milly Preston told
me the details of the trust, and as William's godmother, it seems she is
also a trustee.  it came as quite a surprise.  Now let's see if we can
turn the position to our advantage.  Milly says she will back me, if you
agree."

The mere sound of Milly's name made Anne feel uneasy.

"I don't think we ought to touch William's money," she said.. "I've
never looked upon the trust as having anything to do with me.  I would
be much happier leaving well enough alone and just continue letting the
bank reinvest the interest as it has always done in the past."

"Why be satisfied with the bank's investment programme when I am on to
such a good thing with this city hospital contract?  William would make
a lot of money out of my company.  Surely Alan went along with that?"

"I'm not certain how he felt.  He was his usual discreet self though he
certainly said the contract would be an excellent one to win and that
you had a good chance of being awarded it.. "Exactly."

"But he did want to see your books before he came to any firm
conclusions, and he also wondered what had happened to my five hundred
thousand."

"Our five hundred thousand, my darling, is doing very well as you will
soon discover.  I'll send the books around to Alan tomorrow morning so
that he can inspect them for himself.  I can assure you that he will be
very impressed."

"I hope so, Henry, for both our sakes," said Anne.. "Now let's wait and
see what opinion he forms; you know how much I have always trusted
Alan."

"But riot me," said Henry.

"Oh, no, Henry, I didn't mean.  .

"I was only teasing.  I assumed you would trust your own husband."

Anne felt the tearfulness that she had always suppressed in front of
Richard welling up.  For Henry she didt even try to hold it back.

"I hope I can.  I've never had to worry about money before, and it's all
too much to cope with just now.  The baby always makes me feel so tired
and depressed."

Henry's manner changed quickly to one of solicitude.. "I know, my
darling.  I don't want you ever to have to bother your head with
business matters; I can always handle that side of things.  Look, why
dot you go to bed early and I'll bring you up some supper on a tray?
That will give me a chance to go back to the office and pick up those
files I need to show Alan in the morning."

Anne complied, but once Henry had left, she made no attempt to sleep,
tired as she was, but sat up in bed reading Sinclair Lewis.  She knew it
would take Henry about fifteen minutes to reach his office, so she
waited a full twenty and then called his number.  The ringing tone
continued for almost a minute.

Anne tried a second time twenty minutes later; still no one answered the
phone.  She kept trying every twenty minutes, but no one ever came on
the line.  Henry's remark about trust began to echo bitterly in her
head.

When Henry eventually returned home after midnight, he appeared
apprehensive at finding Anne sitting up in bed.

She was still reading Sinclair Lewis.

"You shouldn't have stayed awake for me."

He gave her a warm kiss.  Anne thought she could smell perfume - or was
she becoming overly suspicious?

"I had to stay on a little later than I had expected since I couldn't
immediately find all the papers Alan would require.  Damn silly
secretary filed some of them under the wrong headings."

"It must be lonely sitting there in the office all on your own in the
middle of the night," said Anne.

"Oh, it's not that bad if you have a worthwhile job to do," said Henry,
climbing into bed and settling against Anne's back.. "At least there's
one thing to be said for it, you can get a lot 9more done when the phone
isn't continually interrupting you.

He was asleep in minutes.  Anne lay awake, now resolved to carry through
the plan she had made that afternoon.

When Henry had left for work after breakfast the next morning - not that
Anne was sure where Henry went to work any more - she studied the Boston
Globe and did a little research among the small advertisements. Then she
picked up the phone and made an appointment which took her to the south
side of Boston, a few minutes before midday.

Anne was shocked by the dinginess of the buildings, She had never
previously visited the southern district of the city, and in normal
circumstances she could have gone through her entire life without even
knowing such places existed.

A small wooden staircase littered with matches, cigarette ends and
rubbish created its own paper chase to a door with a frosted glass
window on which appeared in large black letters. "Glen Ricardo', and
underneat. "Private Detective

(Registered in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts)'.  Anne knocked
quietly.

"Come right in, the door's open," shouted a deep, hoarse voice.

Anne entered.  The man seated behind the desk, his legs stretched over
its surface glanced up from what might have been a girly magazine. His
cigar stub nearly fell out of his mouth when he caught sight of Anne. It
was the first time an-tink coat had ever walked into his office.

"Good morning' he said, rising quickly.. "My name is Glen Ricardo." He
leant across the desk and offered a hairy, nicotine-stained hand to
Anne.  She took it, glad that she was wearing gloves.. "Do you have an
appointment?" Ricardo asked, not that he cared whether she did or not.
He was a] ways available for a consultation with, a nk coat.

"Yes, I do."

"Ah, then you must be Mrs.  Osborne.  Can I take your coat?"

"I prefer to keep it on," said Anne, unable to see anywhere Ricardo
could hang it except on the floor.

"Of course, of course."

Anne eyed Ricardo covertly as he sat back in his seat and ]it a new
cigar.  She did not care for his light green suit, the motley-coloured
tie, or his thickly greased hair.  It was only the fact that she doubted
if it would be better anywhere else that kept her seated.

"Now what's the problem?" said Ricardo, who was sharpening an already
short pencil with a blunt knife.  The wooden shavings dropped everywhere
except into the wastepaper I)asket.. "Have you lost your dog, your
jeweller or your husI)and?"

"First, Mr.  Ricardo, I want to be assured of your complete discretion,"
Anne began.

"Of course, of course, it goes without saying," replied Ricardo, not
looking up from his disappearing pencil.

"Nevertheless, I am saying it," said Anne.

"Of course, of course."

Anne thought that if the man said "of course' once more, ,tie would
scream.  She drew a deep breath.. "I have been receiving anonymous
letters which allege that my husband has been having an affair with a
close friend.  I want to know who is sending the letters, and if there
is any truth in the accusations."

Anne felt an immense sense of relief at having voiced her fears out loud
for the first time.  Ricardo looked at her impassively, as if it were
not the first time he had heard such fears expressed.  He put his hand
through his long black hair which, Anne noticed for the first time,
matched his finger nails.

"Right," he began.. "The husband will be easy.  Who?s responsible for
sending the letters will be a lot harder.

You've kept the letters, of course?"

"Only the last one," said Anne.

Glen Ricardo sighed and stretched his hand across the table wearily.
Anne reluctantly took the letter out of her bag and then hesitated for a
moment.

"I know how you feel, Mrs.  Osborne, but I can't do the job with one
hand tied behind my back."

"Of course, Mr.  Ricardo, I'm sorry."

Anne couldn't believe she had said "of course'.

Ricardo read the letter through two or three times before speaking.
"Have they all been typed on this sort of paper and sent in this sort of
envelope?"

"Yes, I think so," said Anne.. "As far as I can remember.. "Well, when
the next one comes be sure to-. "Can you be so certain there will be
another one?" interrupted Anne.

"Of course, so be sure to keep it.  Now give me all the details about
your husband.  Do you have a photograph?"

"Yes." Once again she hesitated.

61 only want to look at the face.  Don't want to waste my time chasing
the wrong man, do I?" said Ricardo.

Anne opened her bag again and passed him a worn-edged photograph of
Henry in a lieutenant's uniform.

"Good-looking man, Mr.  Osborne," said the detective.. "When was this
photograph taken?"

"About five years ago, I think," said Anne. "I didn't know him when he
was in the army."

Ricardo questioned Anne for several minutes on Henry's daily movements.
She was surprised to find how little she really knew of Henry's habits,
or past.

"Not a lot to go on, Mrs.  Osborne, but I'll do the best I can.  Now, my
charges are ten dollars a day plus expenses.

I will make a written report for you once a week.  Two weeks' payment in
advance, please." His hand came across the desk again, this time more
eagerly.

.  Anne opened her handbag once more and took out two crisp new one
hundred-dollar notes and passed them over to Ricardo.  He studied the
notes carefully as if he wasn't certain which distinguished American
should be engraved on them.  Benjamin Franklin gazed imperturbably at
Ricardo, who obviously had not seen him for some time.  Ricardo handed
Anne sixty dollars in grubby fives.

."I see you work on Sundays, Mr.  Ricardo," said Anne, pleased with her
mental arithmetic.

"Of course," he said.. "Will the same time next week suit you, Mrs.
Osborne?"

"Of course," said Anne and left quickly to avoid having to shake hands
with the man behind the desk.

When William read in his quarterly trust report from Kane and Cabot that
Henry Osborne - Henry Osborne, he repeated the name out loud to be sure
he could believe it - was requesting five hundred thousand dollars for a
personal investment, he had a bad day.  For the first time in four years
at St.  Paul's he came second in a maths test.  Matthew Lester, who beat
him, asked if he was feeling well.

That evening, William rang Alan Lloyd at home.  The chairman of Kane and
Cabot was not altogether surprised to hear from him after Anne's
disclosure of the unhappy relationship between her son and Henry.

"William, dear boy, how are you and how are things at St.  Paul's?"

"All is well this end, thank you, sir, but that's not why I telephoned."

The tact of an advancing Mack truck, thought Alan.. "No, I didn't
imagine it was," he replied dnly.. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to see you tomorrow afternoon."

"On a Sunday, William?"

"Yes, as it's the only day I can get away from school, I'll come to you
any time any place." William made the statement sound as though it were
a concession on his part.. "And under no condition is my mother to know
of our meeting.. "Well, William..  ."Alan Lloyd began.

William's voice grew firmer.. "I don't have to remind you, sir, that the
investment of trust money in my stepfather's personal venture, while not
actually illegal, could undoubtedly be considered as unethical."

Alan Lloyd was silent for a few moments, wondering if he should try and
placate the boy over the telephone.  The boy.  He also thought about
remonstrating with him, but the time for that had now passed.

"Fine, William.  Why don't you join me for a spot of lunch at the Hunt
Club, say one o'clock?"

11,11 look forward to seeing you then, sir." The telephone clicked.

At least the confrontation is to be on my home ground, thought Alan
Lloyd with some relief as he replaced the mouthpiece, cursing Mr.  Bell
for inventing the danm machine.

Alan had chosen the Hunt Club because he did not want the meeting to be
too private.  The first thing William asked when he arrived at the
clubhouse was that he should be allowed a round of golf after lunch.

"Delighted, my boy," said Alan, and reserved the first tee for three
o'clock.

He was surprised when William did not discuss Henry Osborne's proposal
at all during lunch.  Far from it, the boy talked knowledgeably about
President Harding's views on tariff reform and the incompetence of
Charles G.  Dawes as the President's fiscal adviser.  Alan began to
wonder whether William, having slept on it, had now changed his mind
about discussing Henry Osborne's loan, but was going through with the
meeting not wishing to adt a change of heart.  Well, if that's the way
the boy wants to play it, thought Alan, that's fine by me.  He looked
forward t,3 a quiet afternoon of golf.  After an agreeable lunch, and
the better part of a bottle of wine - William limited himself to one
glass - they changed in the clubhouse and walked to the first tee.

"Do you still have a nine handicap, sir?" asked William.

"Thereabouts, my boy.  Why?"

"Will ten dollars a hole suit you?"

Alan Lloyd hesitated, remembering that golf was the one game that
William played competently.. "Yes, fine."

Nothing was said at the first hole, which Alan managed in four while
William took a five.  Alan also won the second and pleased with his
game.  By the time they reached the fourth I mile    Willi

'they were over ha f a , from the clubhouse waited f or Alan to raise
his club.

"There are no conditions unde. "Which You will loan fiv hundred thousand
dollars of my trust money to any compan or person associated with Henry
Osborne."

Alan hit a bad tee shot which went wildly into the rou Its only virtue
was that it put him far enough away fr William, who had made a good
drive, to give him a f minutes to think about how to address both
William and th ball.  After Alan Lloyd had played three more shots,
eventually met on the green.  Alan conceded the hole.

"William, you know I only have one vote out of three as trustee and you
must also be aware that You have no ority over trust decisions, as you
will not control the tnon in your own right until your twenty-first
birthday.  You also realise that we ought not to be discussing this
subject all."

"I am fully aware of the legal implications, sir, but as bo the other
trustees are sleeping with Henry Osborne.  - ."

Alan Lloyd looked shocked.    in Boston w

"Don't tell me you are the , only person doesn't know that Milly Preston
is having an affair with step-father?"

Alan Lloyd said nothing.   tain that I have y William continued.. "I
want to be cer vote, and that you intend to do everything in your power
influence myrnc)ther against this loan, even if it means g the truth
about Milly Prest to the extreme of telling her illiards went right d
Alan hit an even worse tee shot.  W the middle of the fairway- Alan
chopped the next shot i a bush he had never even realised -existed
before and out loud for the first time in forty-three years.  He had g
hiding on that occasion as well.  Alan, as he joined

"Thaes asking a little too muchy' said with William on the fifth green.

"It's nothing compared with what I'd do if I could

"I don't think your father would have approved of threats$, William,"
said Alan'as he watched William's ball sink fr orn fourteen feet.

"The only thing of which my father would not have approved is Osborne,"
retorted William.  Alan Lloyd twoputted four feet from the hole.

"In any case, sir, you must be well aware that my father had a clause
inserted in the deed that money invested by the trust was a private
affair, and the benefactor should never know that the Kane family was
personally involved.

It was a rule he never broke in his life as a banker.  That way he could
always be certain there was no conflict of interest between the bank's
investments and those of the family trust."

"Well, your mother obviously feels that the rule can be broken for a
member of the family."

"Henry Osborne is not a member of my family, and when I control the
trust it is a rule 1, like my father, would never break."

"You may live to regret taking such a rigid stance, William."

"I think not, sir."

"Well, try and consider for a moment the affect such actions might have
on your mother,"added Alan.

"My mother has already lost five hundred thousand dollars of her own
money, sir.  Isn't that enough for one husband?  Why do I have to lose
five hundred thousand of mine as well?"

"We don't know that to be the case, William.  The investment may still
yield an excellent return; I haven't had a chance yet to look carefully
into Henry's books."

William winced when Alan Lloyd called his step-father Henry.

"I can assure you, sir, he's blown nearly every penny of my mother's
money.  To be exact, he has thirty-three thousand, four hundred and
twelve dollars of the original sum left.  I suggest you take very little
notice of Osborne's books and check more thoroughly into his background,
past business record and associates.  Not to mention the fact that he
gambles - heavily."

From the eighth tee Alan hit his ball into a lake directly front of
them, a lake even novice players managed to clear.

in He conceded the hole.

"How did you come by your information on Henry?" asked Alan, fairly
certain it had been through Thomas Cohen's office.

"I prefer not to say, sir."

Alan kept his own counsel; he thought he might need that particular ace
up his sleeve to play a little later in Willias life.

"If all you claim turned out to be accurate, William, naturally I would
have to advise your mother against any investment in Henry's fir and it
would be my duty to have the whole thing out in the open with Henry as
well.. "So be it, sir." Alan hit a better shot, but felt he wasn't
winning.

William continued.. "It may also interest you to know that Osborne needs
the five hundred thousand from my trust not for the hospital contract
but to clear a long-standing debt in Chicago.  I take it that you were
not aware of that, sir?"

Alan said nothing; he certainly had not been aware.  William won the
hole.

When they reached the eighteenth, Alan was eight holes down and was
about to complete the worst round he cared to remember.  He had a
five-foot putt that would at least enable him to halve the final hole
with William.

"Do you have any more bombshells for me?" asked Alan.

"Before or after your putt, sir?"

Alan laughed and decided to call his bluff.. "Before the putt,
William,"he said, leaning on his club.

"Osborne will not be awarded the hospital contract.  It is thought by
those who matter that he's been bribing junior officials in the city
government.  Nothing will be brought out into the open, but to be sure
of no repercussions later his company has been removed from the final
list.  The contract will actually be awarded to Kirkbride and Carter.

The last piece of information, sir, is confidential.  Even Kirkbride and
Carter will not be informed until a week from Thursday, so I'd be
obliged if you would keep it to yourself." Alan missed his putt. William
holed his, walked over to the chairman and shook him warmly by the hand.

"Thank you for the game, sir.  I think you'll find you me ninety
dollars."

Alan took out his wallet and handed over a hundred-dollar note.
"William, I think the time has come for you to stop calling me "sir". My
name, as You well know, is Alan."

"Thank you, Alan." William handed him ten dollars.

Alan Lloyd arrived at the bank on Monday morning with a little more to
do than he had originally anticipated before the weekend.  He put five
departmental managers to work jinmediately on checking out the accuracy
of William's alle aqueries tions.  He feared that he already knew what
their en ' would reveal and, because of Anne's position at the bank, he
made certain that no one department was aware of what the others were up
to.  His instructions to each manager were clear: a I reports were to be
strictly confidential and for the chairrna i's eyes only.  By Wednesday
of the same week he had five prel nary reports on his desk.  They all
seemed to be in agreement with William's judgment although each manager
had asked for more time to verify some of the details.  Alan decided
against worrying Anne until he had some more concrete evidence to go on.
The best he felt he could do for the time being was to take advantage of
a buffet supper the Osbornes were ving that evening to advise Anne
against gi any immediate decision on the loan.

When Alan arrived at the party, he was shocked to see how tired and
drawn Anne looked, which predisposed him to soften his approach even
more.  When he managed to catch her alone, they only had a few moments
together.  If only she were not having a baby just at the time all this
was happening, he thought.

Anne turned and smiled at him.. "How kind of you to come Alan, when you
must be so busy at the bank."

"I couldn't afford to miss out on one of your parties, my dear, they're
still the toast of Boston."

siie smiled.. "I wonder if you ever say the wrong thing." too
frequently.  Anne have you had time to give any iiior thought to the
loan'O' He tried to sound casual.

m afraid I haven't.  I've been up to my eyes with otli-i things, Alan.
How did Henry's accounts look?"

'l,"Ine, but we only have one year's figures to go on, so I think we
ought to bring in our own accountants to check them over.  It's normal
banking policy to do that with an one who has been operating for less
than three years.  I am ,Ul'e, Henry would understand our position and
agree."

"Anne, darting, lovely party," said a loud voice over Alan's ,,Iioulder.
He did not recognise the face; presumably one of I lenry's politician
friends.  Howls the little mother-to-be?" (continued the effusive voice.

Ian slipped away, hoping that he had bought some time for the bank.
There were a lot of politicians at the party, from (ity Hall and even a
couple from Congress, which made him \%londer if William would turn out
to be wrong about the big -ontract.  Not that he needed the bank to
investigate that : the official announcement from City Hall was due the
following week.  He said goodbye to his host and hostess, picked p his
black overcoat from the cloakroom and left. "This time next week ' he
said aloud, as if to reassure himelf as he walked bac'k down Chestnut
Street to his own house.

During the party Anne found time to watch Henry when-(,ver he was near
Milly Preston.  There was certainly no outHenry spent %vard sign of
anything between them; in fact, more of his time with john Preston. Anne
began to wonder if she had not misjudged her husband and thought about
cancelling her appointment with Glen Ricardo the next day.  The party
came to an end two hours later than Anne had anticipated; she hoped it
meant that everybody had enjoyed themselves.

"Great party, Anne, thanks for inviting us." It was the loud voice
again, leaving last.  Anne couldn't remember his name) something to do
with City Hall.  He disappeared down the drive.

Anne stumbled upstairs, undoing her dress even before she had reached
the bedroom, promising herself that she would give no more parties
before having the baby in ten weeks' time.

Henry was already undressing.. "Did you get a chance to have a word with
Alan, darling?"

"Yes, I did," replied Anne.. "He said the books look fine, but as the
company can only show one year's figures, he must bring his own
accountants in to double check; apparently that's normal bankin policy."

"Normal banking policy be damned.  Can't you sense William's presence
behind all tills?  He's trying to hold up the loan, Anne."

"How can you say that?  Alan said nothing about William.. "Didn't he?"
said Henry, his voice rising.. "He didn't bother to mention to you that
William had lunch with him on Sunday at the golf club while we sat here
at home alone?"

"What?" said Anne.. "I don't believe it.  William would never come to
Boston without seeing me.  You must be mistaken, Henry."

"My dear, half of the city was there, and I don't imagine that William
travelled some fifty miles just for a round of golf with Alan Lloyd.
Listen, Anne, I need that loan or I'm going to fail to qualify as a,
bidder for the city contract.  Some time - and very soon now - you are
going to have to decide whether you trust William or me.  I must have
the money by a week from tomorrow, only eight days from now, because if
I can't show City Hall I'm good for that amount, I'll be disqualified.
Disqualified because William didn't approve of your wanting to marry me.
Please Anne, will you call Alan tomorrow and tell him to transfer the
money?"

His angry voice boomed in Anne's head, making her feel faint and dizzy.

"No, not tomorrow, Henry.  Can it wait until Friday?  I have a heavy day
tomorrow."

Henry collected himself with an effort and came over to her as she stood
naked looking at herself in the mirror.

He ran his hand over her bulging stomach.. "I want this little fellow to
be given as good a chance as William."

The next day Anne told herself a hundred times that she would not go to
see Glen Ricardo, but a little before noon she found herself hailing a
cab.  She climbed the creaky wooden stairs, apprehensive of what she
might learn.  She could still turn back.  She hesitated, then knocked
quietly on the door.

"Come in."

She opened the door.

"Ah, Mrs.  Osborne, how nice to see you again.  Do have a seat."

Anne sat and they stared at each other.

"The news, I am afraid, is not good," said Glen Ricardo, pushing his
hand through his long dark hair.

Anne's heart sank.  She felt sick.

"Mr.  Osborne has not been seen with Mrs.  Preston or any other woman
during the past seven days."

"But you said the news wasn't good," said Anne.

"Of course, Mrs.  Osborne, I assumed you were looking for grounds for
divorce.  Angry wives dot normally come to me hoping I'll prove their
husbands are innocent."

"No, no,"said Anne, suffused with relief-'Ies the best piece of news
I've had in weeks."

"Oh, good," said Mr.  Ricardo, slightly taken aback.. "Let us hope the
second week reveals nothing as well."

"Oh, you can stop the investigation now, Mr.  Ricardo.  I am sure you'll
not find anything of any consequence next week."

"I dot think that would be wise, Mrs.  Osborne.  To make a final
judgment on only one week's observation would be, to say the least,
premature."

"All right, if you believe it will prove the point, but I still feel
confident that you won't uncover anything new next week."

"In any case," continued Glen Ricardo, puffing away at his cigar, which
looked bigger and smelled better to Anne than it had the previous week,
'you have already paid for the two wheell.

n.

"What about the letters?" asked Anne, suddenly remembering them.. "I
suppose they must have come from someone jealous of my husband's
achievements."

"Well, as I pointed out to you last week, Mrs.  Osborne, tracing the
sender of anonymous letters is never easy.

However, we have been able to locate the shop where the stationary was
bought, as the brand was fairly unusual, but for the moment I have
nothing further to report on that front.  Again, I may have a lead by
this time next week.  Have you received any more letters in the past few
days?"

"No, I haven't."

"Good, then it all seems to be working out for the best.  Let us hope,
for your sake, that next week's meeting will be our last."

"Yes," said Anne happily, "let us hope so.  Can I settle your expenses
next Thursday?"

"Of course, of course."

Anne had nearly forgotten the phrase, but this time it made her laugh.
She decided as she was driven home that Henry must have the five hundred
thousand loan and the chance to prove William and Alan wrong.  She had
still not recovered from the knowledge that William had come to Boston
without letting her know; perhaps Henry had been right in his suggestion
that William was trying to work behind their backs.

Henry was delighted when Anne told him that night of her decision on the
loan, and he produced the legal documents the following morning for her
signature.  Anne couldn't help thinking that he must have had the papers
prepared for some time, especially as Milly Preston's signature was
already on them, or was she being overly suspicious again?  She
discussed the thought and signed quickly.

She was fully prepared for Alan Lloyd when he telephoned the following
Monday morning.

"Arme, let me at least hold things over until ThursdayThen we'll know
who has been awarded the hospital contract."

"No, Alan, the decision can't wait.  Henry needs the money rove to City
Hall that he's financially strong now.

He has to p enough to fulfill the contract and you already have the
signatures of two trustees so the responsibility is no longer yours."
"The bank could always guarantee Henry's position without actually
passing over the money.  I'm sure City Hall Nould find that acceptable.
In any case, I havet had enough time to check over his compan y's
accounts."

"But you did find enough, time to have lunch with William a week ago
Sunday, without informing me."

There was a momentary silence from the other end of the line.

"Anne, I..

"Dot say you didn't have the opportunity.  You came to our party on
Wednesday, and you could easily have mentioned it to me then.  You chose
not to, but you did find the time to advise me to postpone judgment on
the loan to Henry."

"Anne, I am sorry.  I can understand how that might look and why you are
upset, but there really was a reason, believe me.  May I come around and
explain everything to you?"

"No, Alan, you can't.  Yoire all ganging up against my .  him a chance
to prove husband.  None of you wants to give himself.  Well, I am going
to give him that chance."

Anne put the telephone down, pleased with herself, feeling she had been
loyal to Henry in a way that fully atoned for her ever having doubted
him in the first place.

Alan Lloyd rang back, but Anne instructed the maid to say she was out
for the rest of the day.  When Henry returned Anne had home that night,
he was delighted to hear how dealt with Alan.

"It will all turn out for the best, my love, you see.  On Thursday
morning I will be awarded the contract, and you can kiss and make up
with Alan; still, you had better keep out of his way until then.  In
fact, if you like we can have a celebration lunch on Thursday at the
Ritz and wave at hi from the other side of the room."

Anne smiled and agreed.  She could not help remembering that she was
meant to be seeing Ricardo for the last time at twelve o'clock that day.
Still, that would be early enough for her to be at the Ritz by one and
she could celebrate both triumphs at once.

Alan tried repeatedly to reach Anne, but the maid always had a ready
excuse.  Since the document had been signed by two trustees, he could
not hold up the payment for more than twenty-four hours.  The wording
was typical of a legal agreement drawn up by Richard Kane; there were no
loop-holes to crawl out of.  When the cheque for five hundred thousand
dollars left the bank by special messenger on Tuesday afternoon, Alan
sat down and wrote a long letter to William setting out the events that
had cuhriinated in the transfer of the money, withholding only the
unconfirmed findings of his departmental reports. He sent a copy of the
letter to each director of the bank, conscious that although he had
behaved with the utmost propriety, he had laid himself open to
accusations of concealment.

William received Alan Lloyd's letter at St.  Paul's on the Thursday
morning while having breakfast with Matthew.

Breakfast on Thursday morning at Beacon Hill was the usual eggs and
bacon, hot toast, cold oatmeal, and a pot of steaming coffee.  Henry was
simultaneously tense and jaunty, snapping at the maid, joking with a
junior city official who telephoned to say the name of the company who
had been awarded the hospital contract would be posted on the notice
board at City Hall around ten o'clock.  Anne was almost looking forward
to her last meeting with Glen Ricardo.

She flicked through Vogue, trying not to notice that Henry's hands,
clutching the Boston Globe, were trembling.

"What are you going to do this morning?" Henry asked, trying to make
conversation.

"Oh, nothing much before we have our celebration lunch.

Will you be able to build the childreres wing in memory of Richard?"
Anne asked.

"Not in memory of Richard, my darling.  This will be my achievement, so
let it be in your honour - "'the Mrs. Henry Osborne Wing","he added
grandly.  as she put her magazin. "What a good idea," Anne said,   e
drink too down and smiled at him.. "But you mustwt let M much champagne
at lunch as I have a full check-up with Doctor MacKenzie this afternoon,
and I dowt think he would approve of me being drunk only nine weeks
before the baby is due.  When will you know for certain that the
contract is yours?"

"I know now," Henry said.. "The clerk I just spoke to was a hundred
percent confident, but it will be official at ten o'clock."

"The first thing you must 0 then, Henry, is to phone Alan nning to feel
quite guilty news.  I'm begi and tell him the good about the way I
treated him last week."

"No need for you to feel any guilt; he didwt bother to keep you informed
of WilliarWs actions."

"No, but he tried to explain later, Henry, and I didwt give him a chance
to tell me his side of the story."

"All right, all right, anything you say.  If it'll make you happy, I'll
phone him at five past ten, and then you can tell William I've made him
another million."

He looked at his watch.. "I'd I better be going.  Wish me luck." luck,,
said Anne.

"I thought you didn't need any See you at the

"I don't, I dowt.  les only an expression.  rehead.. "By toRitz at one
eclock." He kissed her on the fo right, you'll be able to laugh about
Alan, William, Contracts, and treat them all as problems of the past,
believe me.

Good-bye, darling."

"I hope so, Henry."

An uneaten breakfast was laid out in front of Alan Lloyd.  He was
reading the financial pages of the Boston Globe, noting a small
paragraph in the right hand column reporting that the city would be
announcing at ten o'clock that morning which company had been awarded
the five-million-dollar hospital contract.

Alan Lloyd had already decided what course of action he must take if
Henry failed to secure the contract and everything that William had
claimed turned out to be accurate.  He would do exactly what Richard
would have done faced with the same predicament, and act only in the
best interests of the bank.  The latest departmental reports on Henry's
personal finances disturbed Alan Lloyd greatly.  Osborne was indeed a
heavy gambler and no trace could be found of the trust's five hundred
thousand dollars having gone into I-Tenry's company.  Alan Lloyd sipped
his orange juice and left the rest of his breakfast untouched,
apologised to his housekeeper and walked to the bank.  It was a pleasant
day.

"William, are you up to a game of tennis this afternoon?" Matthew Lester
was standing over William as he read the letter from Alan Lloyd for a
second time.

"What did you say?"

"Are you going deaf or just becoming a senile adolescent?  Do you want
me to beat you black and blue on the tennis court this afternoon?"

"No, I won't be here this afternoon, Matthew.  I have more important
things to attend to."

"Naturally, old buddy, I forgot that you're off on another of your
mysterious trips to the White House.  I know President Harding is
looking for someone to be his new fiscal advisor, and you're exactly the
right man to take the place of that posturing fool, Charles G. Dawes.
Tell Mm you'll accept, subject to his inviting Matthew Lester to be the
Ad.  ministration's next Attorney General."

There was still no response from William.

"I know the joke was pretty weak, but I thought it worthy of some
comment," said Matthew as he sat down beside William and looked more
carefully at his friend.. "It's the eggs, isn't it?  Taste as though
they've come out of a Russian prisoner-of-wax camp.. "Matthew, I need
your help," said William, as he put Alan's letter back into its
envelope.

"You've had a letter from my sister and she thinks you'll do as a
temporary replacement for Rudolf Valentino."

William stood up.. "Quit kidding, Matthew.  If your father's bank was
being robbed, would you sit around making jokes about it?"

The expression on William's face was unmistakably serious.  Matthew's
tone changed.. "No, I wouldn't."

"Right, then let's get out of here, and I'll explain everything."

Anne left Beacon Hill a little after ten to do some shopping before
going on to her final meeting with Glen Ricardo.  The telephone started
to ring as she disappeared down Chestnut Street.  The maid answered it,
looked out the window and decided that her mistress was too far away to
be pursued.  If Anne had returned to take the call she would have been
informed of City Hall's decision on the hospital contract) whereas
instead she selected some silk stockings and tried out a new perfume.
She arrived at Glen Ricardo's office a little after twelve, hoping her
new perfume might counter the smell of cigar smoke.

"I hope I'm not late, Mr.  Ricardo," she began briskly.

"Have a seat, Mrs.  Osborne." Ricardo did not look particularly
cheerful, but, thought Anne to herself, he never does.  Then she noticed
that he was not smoking his usual cigar.

Glen Ricardo opened a smart brown file, the only new thing Anne could
see in the office, and unclipped some papers.

"Let's start with the anonymous letters, shall we, Mrs. Osborne?"

Anne did not like the tone of his voice at all or the word start.. "Yes,
all right," she managed to get out.

"They are being sent by a Mrs.  Ruby Flowers.. "Who?  Why?" said Anne,
impatient for an answer she did not want to hear.

suspect one of the reasons must be that Mrs.  Flowers is at present
suing your husband."

Well, that explains the whole mystery, said Anne.. "She must want
revenge.  How much does she claim Henry owes her?"

"She is not suggesting debt, Mrs.  Osborne.. "Well, what is she
suggesting then?, Glen Ricardo pushed himself up from the chair, as if
the movement required the full strength of both his arms to raise his
tired frame.  He walked to the window and looked out over the crowded
Boston haxbour. "She is suing for a breach of promise, Mrs.  Osborne."
"Oh, no,"said Anne.

It appears that they we-re engaged to be married at the time that Mr.
Osborne met you, when the engagement was suddenly terminated for no
apparent reason.. "Gold digger; she must have wanted Henrys money.. "No,
I don't think so. You see, Mrs.  Flowers is already well off- Not in
your class, of course, but well off all the same.  Her late husband
owned a soft drink bottling company, and had left her financially
secure."

"Her late husband - how old is she?"

The detective walked back to the table and flicked over a page or two of
his file before his thumb started moving down the page.  The black nail
came to a halt.

"She']] be fifty-three on her next birthday."

"Oh, my God," said Anne.. "The poor woman.  She must hate me."

"I dare say she does, Mrs.  Osborne, but that will not help us- Now I
must turn to your husband's other activities.

The nicotine-stained finger turned over sozne znore page,.

Anne began to feel sick.  Why had she come, why hadn't she left well
alone last week?  She didn't have to know.

She didn't want to know.  Why didn't she get up and walk away?  How she
wished Richard' was by her side.  He would have ,known exactly how to
deal with the whole situation.  She found herself unable to move)
transfixed by Glen Ricardo and the contents Of his smart new file.

"On two occasions last week Mr.  Osborne spent over three hours alone
with Mrs.  Preston."

"But that doesret prove anything," began Anne desperately. "I know they
were discussing a very important financial document.

"In a small hotel on La Salle Street."

Anne didn't interrupt the detective again.

"On both occasions they were seen walking into the hotel holding hands,
whispering and laughing.  It's not conclusive of course, but we have
photographs of them together entering and leaving the hotel."

"Destroy them," said Anne quietly.

Glen Ricardo blinked.. "As you wish, Mrs.  Osborne.  I'm afraid there is
more.  Further enquiries show that Mr.  Osborne was never at Harvard nor
was he an officer in the American armed forces.  There was a Henry
Osborne at Harv I and who was five-footfive, sandy-haired and came from
Alabama.  He was killed on the Maine in 1917.  We also know that your
husband is considerably younger than he claims to be and that his real
name is Vittorio Togna, and he has served

"I don't want to hear any more," said Anne, tears flooding down her
cheeks.. "I don't want to hear any more."

Of course, Mrs.  Osborne, I understand.  I am only sorry that my news is
so distressing.  In my job sometimes .  .  ." Anne fought for a measure
of self-control.. "Thank you, Mr.  Ricardo.  I appreciate all you have
done.  How much do I owe you?"

"Well, you have already paid for the two weeks in advance, and my
expenses came to seventy-three dollars."

Anne passed him a hundred-dollar note and rose from her chair.

"Don't forget your change, Mrs.  Osborne."

She shook her head and waved a disinterested hand.

"Are you feeling all right, Mrs.  Osborne?  You look a little pale to
me, Can I get you a glass of water or something?"

"I'm fine," lied Anne.

'.Perhaps you would allow me to drive you home?"

"No, thank you, Mr.  Ricardo, I'll be able to get myself home." She
turned and smiled at him. "It was kind of you to offer."

Glen Ricardo closed the door quietly behind his client, walked slowly to
the window, bit the end off his last big cioar, spat it out and cursed
his job.

Anne paused at the top of the stairs, clinging to the banister" almost
fainting.  The baby kicked inside her, making her fee, I nauseous.  She
found a cab on the corner of the block and, huddled in the back, was
unable to stop herself sobbing or t( think what to do next.  As soon as
she was dropped at the Red House, she went to her bedroom before any of
the staff could see her crying.  The telephone was ringing as she
entered the room, and she picked it up, more from habit than from any
curiosity to know who it might be.

"Could I speak to Mrs, Kane, please?"

She recognised Alan's clipped tone at once.  Another find, unhappy
voice.

"Hello, Alan.  This is Anne."

"Anne, my dear, I was so sorry to learn about this morning's news."

"How do you know about it, Alan, how can you possibly know?  Who told
you?"

"City Hall phoned me and gave me the details soon after ten this mom,ng.
I tried to call you then, but your maid said that you had already left
to do some shopping."

"Oh, my God," said Anne.. "I had quite forgotten about the contract."
She sat down heavily, unable to breathe freely.

"Are you all right, Anne?"

"Yes, I'm just fine' ' she said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the
sobbing in her voice.. "What did City Hall have to say?"

"The hospital contract was awarded to a firm called Kirkbride and
Carter.  Apparently Henry wasn't even placed in the top three.  I've
been trying to reach him all morning, but it seerm he left his office
soon after ten and he hasn't been back since.  I don't suppose you know
where he is, Anne?"

"No, I haven't any idea."

"Do you want me to come around, my dear?" he said.. "I could be with you
in a few minutes."

"No, thank you, Alan." Anne paused to draw a shaky I)t,eath.. "Please
forgive me for the way I have been treating ou these past few days.  If
Richard were still alive, he would it(, lvcr have forgiven me."

Don't be silly, Anne, our friendship has lasted for far to,, iiiany
years for a silly little incident like that to be of any i,,nificance."

weeping.  Anne staggered to her fe(-,t-The kindness of his voice
triggered off a fresh burst of

"I must go, Alan.  I can hear someone at the front door; it might be
Henry."

"Take care, Annep and don't worry about today.  As long as I'm chairman,
the bank will always support you.

Don't hesitate to call if you need me."

Anne put the telephone down, the noise thudding in her ears.  The effort
of breathing was stupendous.  She sank to the floor and as she did so,
the long-forgotten sensation of a vigorous contraction overwhelmed her.

A few moments later the maid knocked quietly on the door.  She looked
in; William was at her shoulder.  He had not entered his mothees bedroom
since her marriage to Henry Osborne.  The two rushed to Anne's side. She
was shaking convulsively,, unaware of their presence.  Little flecks of
foam spattered her upper lip.  In a few seconds the attack passed, and
she lay moaning quietly.

"Mother," said William urgently.. "What's the matter?" Anne opened her
eyes and stared wildly at her son.

"Richard.  Thank God you've come.  I need you.. "It's William, Mother."
Her gaze faltered.. "I have no more strength left, Richard.

I must pay for my mistakes.  Forgive - - ." Her voice trailed off to a
groan as another powerful contraction started.

"What's happening?" d William helplessly.

"I think it must be the baby coming," the maid said, "although it isn't
due for several weeks."

"Get Dr.  MacKenzie on the phone immediately," William said to the maid
as he ran to the bedroom door.. "Matthew," W he shouted, "come up
quickly."

Matthew bounded up the stairs and joined William in the bedroom.

"Help me get my mother down to the car,"he said.

Matthew knelt down.  The two boys picked Anne up and carried her gently
downstairs and out to the car.  She was panting and groaning, and
obviously still in immense paiii.  William ran back to the house and
grabbed the phone frojii the maid while Matthew waited in the car.

"Doctor MacKenzie.. "Yes, who's this?"

"My name is William Kane; you won't know me, sir.. "Don't know you,
young man?  I delivered you.  What can I do for you now?"

"I think my mother is in labour.  I'll bring her to the ho,;pital
immediately.  I should be there in a few minutes' time."

Doctor MacKenzie's tone changed.. "All right, William, don't worry. I'll
be here waiting for you and everything will be under control by the time
you arrive."

"Thank you, sir." William hesitated.. "She seezned to have some sort of
afit.  Is that normal ?" William's words chilled the doctor.  He too
hesitated.

"Well, not quite normal.  But she'll be all right once she has had the
baby.  Get here as quickly as you can."

William put down the phone, ran out of the house and jumped into the
Rolls Royce.

He drove the car in fits and starts, never once getting out of first
gear and never stopping for anything until they had reached the doctor
at the hospital.  The two boys carried Anne, and a nurse with a
stretcher guided them through to the maternity section.  Doctor
MacKenzie was standing at the entrance of an operating room, waiting, He
took over and asked them both to remain outside.

The two boys sat in silence on the small bench and waited.

ever heard anyone make, came from the delivery room; to ilence.  For the
be succeeded by an even more frightening s s.  The two of first time in
his life William felt totally helples re for over an hour, without a
word passing be-them sat the tween them.  Eventually a tired Doctor
MacKenzie emerged.  The two boys rose, and the doctor looked at Matthew
Lester.

"William?" he asked.    William."

"No, sir, I am Matthew Lester; this is The doctor turned to William and
Put a hand on hi shoulder.. "William, I'm so sorry Your mother died a
minutes ago ... and the child, a little girl .  was stillborn "the
bench,.  "w Williams legs gave way and he sank on to did everything in
our power to save them, but it was hope He shook his head wearily.. "She
wouldt listen to -I-te insisted on having the baby.  it should never
have, hap I)ened."

William sat silently, stunned by the whiplash sound Of doctor's words.

Ilow could she die?" he whispered.. "How could you Her die?"

The doctor sat down on the bench between the boys.  ,vouldn't listen,"he
repeated slowly.. "I warned her repeated after her miscarriage not to
have another child , butwhen she and your step-father never took my w
inarried again) e had high blood pressure during her I ings seriously.
Sh   during this one, although pregnancy.  it was worrying me was never
near danger level.  But when you bro'ugl"t her today, for no apparent
reason it had soared up to the i where eclampsia ensues."

"Eclampsia?"     rvive several

"Convulsions.  Sometimes patients can su tacks.  Sometimes they simply -
stop breathing."

William dr--w a shuddering breath and placed his head his hands. Matthew
Lester guided his friend gently along corridor.  The doctor followed
them.  When they reached door, he looked at William.    Y.  s very

"Her blood pressure went up so suddenl didn't care.  Strange, had
something been troubling her lately?"

William raised his tear-streaked face.. "Not something," he said with
hatred.. "Someone."

Alan Lloyd was sitting in a corner of -the drawing room when the two
boys arrived back at the Red House.  He rose as they entered.

"William," he said immediately.. "I blame myself for allowing the loan."

William stared at him, not taking in what he was saying.

Matthew Lester stepped into the silence.. "I don't think that's
important any longer, sir," he said qetly.

"William's mother has just died in childbirth."

Alan Lloyd turned ashen, steadied himself by grasping the mantelpiece
and turned away.  It was the first time that el ther of them had seen a
grown man weep.

"It's my fault," said the banker.. "I'll never forgive myself.  I didn't
tell her everything I knew.  I loved her so much that I never wanted her
to be distressed., His anguish enabled William to be calm.

"It certainly was not your fault, Alan," he said firmly.. "You did
everything you could, I know that, and now it's I who am going to need
your help."

Alan Lloyd braced himself.. "Has Osborne been informed about your
mother's death?"

"I neither know nor care."

"I've been trying to reach him all day about the investment.  He left
his office soon after ten this morning, and be hasn't been seen since.y

"He'll turn up here sooner or later," said William gy.

After Alan Lloyd left, William and Matthew sat alone in the front room
most of the night, dozing off and on.

At four O'clock in the morning, William counted the chimes of the
grandfather clock and thought that he heard a noise in the street.
Matthew was stazing out of the window down the drive.  William walked
stiffly over to join him.  They both watched Henry Osborne stagger
across Louisburg Square with a half-full bottle in his hand.  He fumbled
with some keys for some time and finally appeared in the doorway,
blinking dazedly at the two boys.

"want Anne, not you.  Why aren't you at school?  I don't want you," he
said, his voice thick and slurred, trying to push William aside.
"Where's Anne?"

"My mother is dead," said William quietly.

Henry Osborne looked at him stupidly for a few seconds.  The
incomprehension of his gaze snapped WilliariYs selfcontrol.

"Where were you when she needed a husband?" he shouted.

Still Osborne stood, swaying slightly.  What about the baby?"

"Stillborn, a little girl."

Henry Osborne slumped into a chair, drunken tears starting to run down
his face.. "She lost my little baby?"

William was nearly incoherent with rage and grief.. "Your baby?  Stop
thinking about yourself for once," he shouted.. "You know Doctor
MacKenzie advised her against becoming pregnant again."

cexpert in that as well, are we, like everything else?  If you had
minded Your own fucking business, I could have taken care of my own wife
without your interference.. "And her money, it seems."

"Money.  You tight-fisted little bastard, I bet losing that hurts you
more than anything else."

"Get up," William said between his teeth.

Henry Osborne pushed himself up, and smashed the bottle across the
corner of the chair.  Whisky splashed all over the carpet.  He swayed
towards William with the broken bottle in his raised hand.  William
stood his ground while Matthew came between them and easily removed the
bottle from the drunken maivs grasp.

William pushed his friend aside and advanced until his face was only
inches away from Henry Osborne's.

"Now, you listen to me and listen carefully.  I want you out of this
house in one hour.  If I ever hear from you again in my life, I shall
instigate a full legal investigation into what has happened to my
mother's half million dollar investment in your firm, and I shall
re-open my research into who YOU

really are and your past life in Chicago.  If, on the other hand, I do
not hear from you again, ever, I shall consider the ledger balanced and
the matter closed.  Now get out before I kill you., The two boys watched
him leave, sobbing, furious.      incoherent and The next morning
William paid a visit to the bank.  He was immediately shown into the
chairmans office.  Alan Lloyd was packing some documents into a
briefcase.  He looked u and handed a piece of paper to William without
speaking.  p it was a short letter to all board members tendering his
resig.  nation as chairman of the bank.

"Could you ask your secretary to come in?" said William quietly.

"As you wish."

Alan Lloyd pressed a button on the side of his desk, and a middle-aged,
conservatively dressed lady entered the room from a side door.

Good morning, Mr Kane," she said when she saw William.. "I was so sorry
to learn about Your mother."

"Thank you," said William.. "Has anyone else seen this letter?"

"No, sir," said the secretary.. "I was about to type twelve copies for
Mr. Lloyd to sign.. "Well, don't type them, and please forget that this
draft ever existed. Never mention its existence to anyone, do you
understand ?"

She stared into those blue eyes of the sixteen -year-old boy.  So like
his father, she thought.. "Yes, Mr.  Kane." She left quietly closing the
door.  Alan Lloyd looked up.

"Kane and Cabot doesn't need a new chairman at the moment, Alan.  You
did nothing my father would not have done in the same circumstances."
"It's not as easy as that," Alan said.

"It's as easy as that," said William.. "We can discuss this again when I
am twenty-one and not before.  Until then I ould be obliged if you would
run -my bank in your usual w diplomatic and conservative manner.  I want
nothing of what has happened to be discussed outside this office.  You
will destroy any information you have on Henry Osborne and consider the
matter closed."

William tore up the letter of resignation and dropped the pieces of
paper into the fire.  He put his arm around Alan's shoulders.

"I have no family now, Alan, only you.  For God's sake don't desert me."

William was driven back to Beacon Hill.  On his arrival the butler
informed him that Mrs.  Kane and Mrs.  Cabot were waiting for him in the
drawing room.  They both rose as he entered the room.  It was the first
time that William realised that he was now the head of the Kane family.

The funeral took place quietly two days later at the Old North Church on
Beacon Hill.  None but the family and close Henry Osborne.  As the
mourners departed, they paid their friends were invited, and the only
notable absentee was respects to William.  The grandmothers stood one
pace behind him, like sentinels, watching, approving the calm and
dignified way in which he conducted himself.  When everyone had left,
William accompanied Alan Lloyd to his car.

The chairman was delighted by William's one request of him.

"As you know, Alan, my mother had always intended to my father.  I would
like her wishes carried out." build a children's wing to the new
hospital, in memory of Wladek stayed at the Polish Delegation in
Constantinople for eighteen months working day and night for Pawel
Zaleski, becoming an indispensable aide and close friend.  Nothing was
too much trouble for him and Zaleski soon began to wonder how he managed
before Wladek arrived.  He visited the British embassy once a week to
eat in the kitchen with Mrs.  Henderson, the Scottish cook, and, on One
occasion, with His Britannic Majesty's second consul himself.

Around them the old Islamic way of life was dissolving, and the Ottoman
Empire was beginning to totter.  Mustafa Kemal was the name on
everyone's lips.  The sense of inipending change made Wladek restless.
His mind returned incessantly to the Baron and all whom he had loved in
the castle, The necessity to survive from day to day in Russia had kept
them from his mind's eye, but in Turkey they rose up before him, a
silent and slow procession.  Sometimes, He could see them strong and
happy, Leon swimming in the river, Florentyna playing cat's cradle in
his bedroom, the Bai,on's face strong and proud in the evening
candlelight, but always each well remembered, well-loved face would
waver and, try as Wladek did to hold them firm, they would change
horribly to that last dreadful aspect, Leon dead on top of him,
Florentyna bleeding in agony, and the Baron almost blind and broken.

Wladek began to face the fact that he could never return to a land
peopled by such ghosts, until he had made something worthwhile of his
life.  With that single thought in mind he set his heart on going to
America, as his countryman Tadeusz Kosciuszko, of whom the Baron had
told so many enthralling tales, had done so long before him.

The as th. "New United States, described by Pawel Zaleski World'.  The
very name inspired Wladek with a hope for the future and a chance to
return to Poland in triumph.  It was Pawel Zaleski who put up the money
to purchase an inirnigrant passage for him to the United States.  They
were difficult to come by, for they were always booked at least a year
in advance, It seemed to Wladek as though the whole of Eastern Europe
was trying to escape and start afresh in the New World.

In the spring of 1921, Wladek Koskiewicz finally left Constantinople and
boarded the S.S.  Black Arrow, bound for Ellis Island, New York.  He
possessed one suitcase, containing all his belongings, and a set of
papers issued by Pawel Zaleski.

The Polish consul accompanied him to the wharf, and embraced him
affectionately.. "Go with God, -my boy."

The traditional Polish response came naturally from the depths of
Wladek's early childhood , replied.    .  Remain with God," he As he
reached the top of the gangplank, Wladek recalled his terrifying journey
from Odessa to Constantinople.  This time there was no coal in sight,
only people, people everywhere, Poles, Lithuanians, Estonians,
Ukrainians and others of many racial types unfamiliar to Wladek.  He
clutched his few belongings and waited in the line, the first of many
long waits with which he later associated his entry into the United
States.

His papers were sternly scrutinised by a deck officer who was clearly
predisposed to the suspicion that Wladek was trying to avoid military
service in Turkey, but Pawel Zaleski's documents were impeccable; Wladek
invoked a silent blessing on his fellow countryman's head as he watched
others being turned back, Next came a vaccination and a cursory medical
examination which, had he not had eighteen months of good food and the
chance to recover his health in Constantinople, Wladek would certainly
have failed.  At last with all the checks over he was allowed below deck
into the steerage quarters.

There were separa te compartments for males, females and married
couples. Wladek quickly made his way to the male quarters and found the
Polish group occupying a large block of iron berths, each containing
four two-tiered bunk beds.  Each bunk had a thin straw mattress, a light
blanket and no pillow.  Having no pillow did not worry Wladek who had
never been able to sleep on one since leaving Russia.

Wladek selected a bunk below a boy of roughly his own age and introduced
himself.

"I'm Wladek Koskiewicz.. "I'm Jerzy Nowak from Warsaw," volunteered the
boy in his native Polish, "and I'm going to make my fortune in America."

The boy thrust forward his hand.

Wladek and Jerzy spent the time before the ship sailed telling each
other of their experiences, both pleased to have someone to share their
loneliness with, neither willing to admit their total ignorance of
America.  Jerzy, it turned out, had lost his parents in the war but had
few other clairm to attention.  He was entranced by Wladek's stories:
the son of a baron, brought up in a trapper's cottage, imprisoned by the
Germans and the Russians, escaped from Siberia and then from a Turkish
executioner thanks to the heavy silver band which Jerzy couldn't take
his eyes off.  Wladek had packed more in to his fifteen years than Jerzy
thought he would manage in a lifetime.  Wladek talked all night of the
past while jerzy listened intentlyneither wanting to sleep and neither
wanting to admit their apprehension of the future.

The following morning the Black Arrow sailed.  Wladek and Jerzy stood at
the rail and watched Constantinople sEp away in the blue distance of the
Bosphorus.  After the calm of the Sea of Man-nara the choppiness of the
Aegean afflicted them and most of the other passengers with a horrible
abruptness.  The two washrooms for steerage passengers, with ten basins
apiece, six toilets and cold salt water taps were rapidly inundated.
After a couple of days the stench of their quarters was nauseating.

Food was served in a large filthy dining hall on long tables; warm soup,
potatoes, fish, boiled beef and cabbage, brown or black bread.  Wiadek
had tasted worse food but not since Russia and was glad ,f the
provisions he had brought along with Mm - sausages, nuts and a little
brandy.  He and Jerzy shared them huddled in the corner of their berth.
It was an unspoken understanding.  They ate together, exght, slept one
above the plored the ship together and at ni other.

On the third day at sea Jerzy brought a Polish girl to their table for
supper.  Her name, he informed Wladek casually, was Zaphia.  it was the
first time in his life that n twice, but he couldn't Wiadek had ever
looked at a woman memories of Florenstop looking at Zaphia.  She
rekindle tyna.  The warm gry eyes, the long fair hair that fell on to
her shoulders and the s(>f t voice. Wladek found he wanted to casionally
led across at Wladek, touch her. The girl oc ow rnu,-h better looking
Jerzy who was miserably aware- h ted Zaphia back was than he.  He tagged
along as jerly escor to the women's quarters.

Jerzy turned to him afterwards) mildly irritated.. "Can't you find a
girl of your own?  This one's mine-'

Wladek was not prepared to admit that he had no idea how to set about
finding a girl of his own.  en we reach

"There will be enough time for girls wh America," he said scornfully-
"Why wait for America?  I intend to have as many on this ship as
possible." t that?" asked Wiadek, intent on

"How will You 90 abou the acquisition of knowledge without admitting to
his own ignorance.

"We have twelve more days in this awful tub) and I am going to have
twelve women," boasted Jerzy.  d Wladek.

"What can you do with twelve women?" asked t tell me the man who
sur-'Good God," said Jerzy.. "Do from the Russians, killed a vived the
Germans and escaped  d having his man at the age of twelve and narrowly
misse hand chopped off by a bunch of savage Turks has never had a
woman?"

"Fuck them, what else?" Wladek looked perplexed.

He laughed, and a multilingual chorus from the surrounding bunks told
him to "shut up,.

"Well," Jerzy continued in a whisper, "the time has con-le to broaden
your education, because at last I have found something I can teach you."
He peered over the side of his bunk even though he could not see
Wladek's face in the dark.. "Zaphia's an understanding girl.  I dare say
she co Id be persuaded to expand your education a little.  I shall
uarrange it."

Wladek didn't reply.

No more was said on the subject, but the next day Zaphia started to pay
attention to Wladek.  She sat next to him at r,aeals, and they talked
for hours of their experiences and hopes.  She was an orphan from
Poznan, on her way to join her cousins in Chicago.  Wladek told Zaphia
that he was going to New York and would probably liv e with Jerzy.

"I hope New york is very near Chicago," said Zaphia.

"Then you can come and see Me when I am the mayor," said Jerzy
expansively.

She sniffed disparagingly.  cyoure too Polish, Jerzy.  You can't even
speak nice English like Wladek.

"I'll learn," said Jerzy confidently, cand I'll start by making my name
American.  Fror

.a today I shall be George Novak.  Then I'll have no trouble at all.
Everyone in the United States will think I'm American.  What about you,
Wladek Koskiewicz?  Nothing much you can do with that name, is there?"

Wiadek looked at the newly christened George in silent resentment of his
own name.  Unable to adopt the title to which he felt himself the
rightful heir, he hated Koskiewicz and the continual reminder of his
illegitimacy.

(I'll manage," he said.. "I'll even help you with your English if You
like."

t bother, he's founddne."

sted they should call him retreated after supper each ni,, into one of
the tarpaulin) covered lifeboats with a different girl.  Wladek longed
to know what he did there, even though some of the ladies of George's
choice were not merely filthy, as they all were, but would clearly have
been unattractive even when scrubbed clean.

One night after supper, when George had disappeared igain, Wladek and
Zaphia sat out on deck, she put her arms a I-ound him and asked him to
kiss her.  He pressed his mouth stiffly against hers until their teeth
touched; he felt horribly Unfamiliar with what he was meant to be doing.
To his surI)r Ise and embarrassment, her tongue parted his lips.  After
t few moments of apprehension, Wladek found her open mouth intensely
exciting and was alarmed to find his penis stiffening.  He tried to draw
away from her, ashamed, but bega she did not seem to mind in the least.
On the contrary, she n to press her body gently and rhythmically against
him and drew his hands down to her buttocks.  His swollen penis throbbed
against her, giving him almost unbearable pleasure.  She disengaged her
mouth and whispered in his ear.

"Do you want me to take my clothes off, Wladek?" He could not bring
himself to reply.

She detached herself from him, laughing.. "Well, maybe tomorrow," she
said, getting up from the deck and leaving him.

He stumbled back to his bunk in a daze, determined that the next day he
would finish the job Zaphia had started.

No sooner had he settled in his berth thinking of how he would go about
the task than a large hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down
from his bunk onto the floor.  In an instant his sexual excitement
vanished.  Two men whom he had never seen before were towering above
him.  They dragged him to a far corner and threw him up against the
wall.  A large hand was now clamped firmly on Wladek's mouth while a
knife touched his throat.

"Don't breathe whispered the man holding the knife, pushing the blade
against the skin.. "All we want is the silver band around your wrist."
The sudden realisation that his treasure might be stolen from him was
almost as horrifying to Wladek as had been the thought of losing his
hand.  Before he could think of anything to do, one of the men jerked
the band off his wrist. He couldn't see their faces in the dark, and he
feared he must have lost the band for ever, when someone leaped on to
the back of the man holding the knife.  This action gave Wladek the
chance to punch the one who was holding him pinned to the ground.  The
sleepy immigrants around them began to wake and take an interest in what
was happening.  The two men escaped as quickly as they could, but not
belore George had managed to stick the knife in the side of one of the
assailants.

"Go to the cholera," shouted Wladek at his retreating back.

"It looks as if I got here just in time," said George.. "I don't think
they'll be back in a hurry." He stared down at the silver band, lying in
the trampled sawdust on the floor.. "It's magnificent," he said, almost
solemnly.. "There will always be men who want to steal such a prize from
you., Wiadek picked the band up and slipped it back on to his wrist.

"Well, you nearly lost the damn thing for good that time," said George.
"Lucky for you I was a little late getting back tonight."

"Why were you a little late getting back?" asked Waldek.

"My reputation," said George boastfully, "now goes before me.  In fact,
I found some'other idiot in my lifeboat tonight, already with his pants
down.  I soon got rid of him, though, when I told him he was with a girl
I would have had last week but I couldn't be sure she hadn't got the
pox.  I've never seen anyone get dressed so quickly."

"What do you do in the boat?" asked Wladek.

"Fuck them silly, you ass, what do you think?" and with that he rolled
over and went to sleep.

Wlade,k stared at the ceiling and, touching the silver band, thought
about what George had said, wondering what it would be like to "fuck'
Zaphia.

The next morning they hit a storm, and all the passengers were confined
below decks.  The stench, intensified b th ship's steam heating SySteM3
seemed to permeate Wladek's very marrow.    groaned George. "I won't
make a tand the worst of it isi' round dozen now."

When the storm abated) nearly all the passengers escaped to the deck.
Wladek and George fought their way arourd the crowded gangways, thankful
for the fresh air.  Many Of the girls sniiled at George, but it seemed
to Wladek thatthey didn't notice him at all.  He would have thought they
couldn't miss him in his fifty-ruble coat.  A dark-haired girl, her
cheeks made pink by the wind, passed George and siniled at him.  He
turned to Wladek.

"I'll have her tonight."

Wiadek smmd at the girl and studied the way she looked at George.

"Tonight," said George, as she passed within earshot.  She pretended not
to hear him and walked away, a little too quickly.

"Turn round, Wladek, and see if she is looking back at me.)

Wladek turned around."Yes, she is) ' he said) surprised.

"She's mine tonight;' said George.. "Have you had Zaphia yet?"

"No," said Wiadek.. "Tonight." About time, isn't it?  Yotell never see
the girl again cl we've reached New York-' Sure enough, George arrived
at supper that night with Wiadek the dark-haired girl.  Without a word
being said) and Zaphia left them) arms round each other's waists, and
went on to the deck and strolled around the ship several times.  Wladek
looked sideways at her pretty young profile, It was going to be now or
nevers he decided.  He led her to a shadowy corner and tarte-d to kiss
her as she had kissed him, open-mouthed.  She moved backwards a little
until her shoulders were resting against a bulwark) and Wladek moved
with her. She drew his hands slowly down to her breasts.

He touched them tentatively, surprised by their softness.

on her blouse and sli his I hand inside.  The first feel of the naked
flesh was delicious.

"Christ, your hand is cold," Zaphia said.

Wladek crushed himself against her, his mouth dry, his breath heavy. She
parted her legs a little and Wladek thrust clumsily against her through
several intervening layers of cloth.  She moved in sympathy with him for
a couple of minutes and then pushed him away.

"Not here on the deck," she said.. "Let's find a boat." The first three
they looked into were occupied, but they finally found an empty one and
wriggled under the tarpaulin.  In the constricted darkness Zaphia made
some adjustments to her clothing that Wladek could not figure out, and
pulled him gently on top of her.  It took her very little time to bring
Wladek to his earlier Pitch of excitement through the few remaining
layers of cloth between them.  He thrust his penis into the yielding
softness between her legs and was on the point of orgasm when she again
drew her mouth away. "Undo your trousers," she whispered.

He felt an idiot but hurriedly undid them, and thrust again, coming
immediately, feeling the sticky wetness running down the inside of her
thigh.  He lay dazed, amazed by the abruptness of the act, suddenly
aware that the wooden notches of the boat were digging uncomfortably
into his elbows and knees.

"Was that the first time'you've made love to a girl?" asked Zaphia,
wishing he would move over.

"No, of course not," said Wladek.

"Do you love me, Wladek?"

"Yes, I do," he said, "and as soon as I've settled in New York, I'll
come and find you in Chicago."

"I'd like that, Wladek," she said as she buttoned up her dress.. "I love
you, too."

"Did you fuck her?" was George's immediate question on Wladek's return.

"Yes."

"Was it good?"

"Yes," said Wladek, uncertainly, and then fell asleep.

In the morning, they were woken by a room full of excited passengers,
happy in the knowledge that this was their last day on board the Black
Arrow.  Some of them had been up on deck- before sunrise, hoping to
catch the first sign of land.  Wladek packed his few belongings in his
new suitcase, put on hisdnly suit, and his Cap and then joined Zaphia
and George on deck.  The three of them stared into the mist that hung
over the sea, waiting in silence for their first sight Of the United
States of America.

"There it is," shouted a passenger on a deck above them and cheering
went up at the sight of the grey strip of Long Island approaching
through the spring morning.

Little tugs bustled up to the side of the Black Arrow and guided her
between Brooklyn and Staten Island into New York Harbour.  The colossal
Statue of Liberty regarded them austerely as they gazed in awe at the
emerging skyline f Manhattan, great long arms stretching high into the
autumn sky.     reted and spired red Finally they moored near the tur
back buildings of Ellis Island.  The passengers who had private cabins
left the ship first.  Wladek hadn't noticed them until that day.  They
must have been on a separate deck with their own dining hall.  Their
bags were carried for them by porters, and they were greeted by smiling
faces at the quayside.  Wladek knew that wasn't going to happen to him.

After the favoured few had disembarked, the captain announced over the
loudspeaker to the rest of the passengers that they would not be leaving
the ship for several hoursA groan of disappointment went up) and Zaphia
sat on the deck and burst into tears.  Wladek tried to comfort her.
Eventually an official came around with coffee, a second with numbered
labels which were hung around their necks.  Wladek's was B.127; it
reminded him of the last time he was a number.  What had he let herself
in for?  Was America like the Russian camps?       no food In the middle
of the afternoon, having been given or further information, they were
ferried by slow moving barges from the dockside to Ellis Island.  There
the men were separated from the women and sent off to different sheds.
Wladek kissed Zaphia and wouldn't let her go, which held up the line.  A
nearby official parted them.

"All right, let's get moving," he said.. "Keep that up and we'll have
you two married in no time."

Wladek lost sight of Zaphia as he was pushed forwards with George.  They
spent the night in an old, damp shed, unable to sleep as interpreters
moved among the crowded rows of bunks, offering curt, but not unkind,
assistance to the bewildered immigrants.

In the morning they were sent for medical examinations.  The first
hurdle was the hardest: Wladek was told to climb a steep flight of
stairs.  The blue-unifonned doctor made him do it twice, watching his
gait carefully.  Wladek tried very hard to minimise his limp, and
finally the doctor was satisfied.  Wladek was made to remove his hat and
stiff collar so that his face, eyes, hair, hands and neck could be
examined carefully.  The man directly behind Wladek had a hare lip; the
doctor stopped him immediately, put a chalk cross on his shoulder and
sent him to the other end of the shed.  After the physical was over,
Wladek joined up with George again in another long line outside the
Public Examination room where each person seemed to be taking about five
minutes.  Three hours later when George was ushered into the room Wiadek
began to wonder what they would ask him.

When George came out, he grinned at Wiadek and said. "Easy, you'll walk
right through it." Wladek could feel the pahns of his hands sweating as
he stepped forward.

He followed the official into a small, undecorated room.  There were two
examiners seated and writing furiously on what looked like official
papers.

"Do you speak English?" asked the first.

"Yes, sir, I do quite good," replied Abel, wishing he had spoken more
English on the voyage.

"What is your name?"

"Wladek Koskiewicz, sir."

The men passed him a big black book.. "Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, sir, the Bible."

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Put your hand on the Bible, and swear that you will an-wer our
questions truthfully-' Wladek took the Bible in his left hand, placed
his right hand on it and said, 11 promise I tell the truth!

"What is your nationality?"

"Polish.. "Who paid for your passage here?" "I paid from my money that I
earn in Polish Consulate in Constantinople."

One of the officials studied Wladek's papers, nodded and then asked, Do
you have a home to go to?"

"Yes, sir.  I go stay at Mister Peter Novak.  He my friend's uncle.  He
live in New York."

"Good.  Do you have work to go to

"Yes, sir.  I go work in bakery of Mister Novak-'

"Have you ever been arrested?"

Russia flashed through Wladek's mind.  It couldn't count.

Turkey - he wast going to mention that.

"No, sir, never."

"Are- you an anarchist?"

"No, sir.  I hate Comniunists, they kill my sister."

"Are you willing to abide by the laws of the United States of America?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you any money.

"Yes, sir."

"May we see it?"

"Yes, sir." Wiadek placed on the table a bundle of notes arid a few
coins.     t the money thank you," said the examiner, "you May Pu back
in your pocket."

The second examiner looked at him.. "What is twenty-one plus
twenty-four?"

"Forty-five," said Wladek, without hesitation.

"How many legs does a cow have?"

Wladek could not believe his ears.. "Four, sir," he said, wondering if
the question was a trick.

"And a horse?"

"Four, sir," said Wladek still in disbelief.

"Which would you throw overboard if you were out at sea in a small boat
which needed to be lightened, bread or money?"

"The money, sir," said Wladek.

"Good." The examiner picked up a card marke. "Admitted' and handed it
over to Wladek.. "After you have changed your money, show this card to
the immigration officer.  Tell him Your full name and he will give you a
registration card.  You will then be given an entry certificate.  If you
do not commit a crime for five years and pass a simple reading and
writing examination at the end of that time, you will be permitted to
apply for full United States citizenship.  Good luck, Wladek.. "Thank
you, sir., At the money exchange counter Wladek handed in eighteen
months of Turkish savings and the three fifty-ruble notes.  He was
handed forty-seven dollars twenty cents in exchange for the Turkish
money but was told the rubles were worthless.  He could only think of
Doctor Dubien and his fifteen years of diligent'saving.

The final stop was the immigration officer, who was seated behind a
counter at the exit barrier directly under a picture of,President
Harding.  Wladek and George went over to him.

"Full name?" the officer said to George.

"George Novak," replied Jerzy firmly.  The officer wrote the name on a
card.

"And your address?" he asked.

'286 Broome Street, New York, New York., The Officer passed George the
card.. "This is your Immigration Certificate, 21871-George Novak.
Welcome to the United States, George. I'm Polish too.  You'll like it
here.  Many congratulations and good luck."

George smiled and shook hands with the officer, stood to one side and
waited for Wladek.  The officer stared at Wladek in his long bearskin
coat.  Wladek passed him the card marke. "Admitted'.

"Full name?" asked the officer.

Wladek hesitated.

"What's your name?" repeated the man, a little louder, slightly
impatient, wondering if he couldn't speak English.

Wladek couldn't get the words out.  How he hated that pant name.

"For the last time, whaes your name?"

George was staring at Wladek.  So were others who had joined the queue
for the immigration officer.  Wladek still didn't speak.  The officer
suddenly grabbed his wrist, stared closely at the inscription on the
silver band, wrote on a card and passed it to Wladek.

'21872-Baron Abel Rosnovski.  Welcome to the United States.  Many
congratulations and good luck, Abel."

William returned to start his last year at St.  Paul's in September,
1923, and was elected president of the Senior Class, exactly
thirty-three years after his father had held the same office.  William
did not win the election in the usual fashion, by virtue of being the
finest athlete or the most popular boy in the school.  Matthew Lester,
his closest friend, would undoubtedly have won any contest based on
those criteria.  It was simply that William was the most impressive boy
in the school, and for that reason Matthew Lester could not be prevailed
upon to run against him.  St.  Paul's entered William's name as their
candidate for the Hamilton Memorial Mathematics Scholarship at Harvard,
and William worked singlemindedly towards that goal during the autumn
term.

When William returned to Beacon Hill for Christmas, he was looking
forward to an uninterrupted period in to get to grips with Principia
Mathernatica.., But it was not to be, for there were several invitations
to parties and balls awaiting his arrival.  To most of them he felt able
to return a tactful regret, but one was absolutely inescapable.  The
grandmothers had arranged a ball, to be held at the Red House on
Louisburg Square.  William wondered at what age he would find it
possible to defend his home against invasion by the two great ladies and
decided the time had not yet come.  He had few close friends in Boston,
but this did not inhibit the grandmothers in their compilation of a
formidable guest list.

To mark the occasion they presented William with his first dinner jacket
in the latest double-breasted style; he received the gift with some
pretence at indifference but later swaggered around his bedroom in the
suit, often stopping to stare at himself in the mirror, The next day he
put through a long distance call to New York and asked Matthew Lester to
join him for the fateful weekend.  Matthew's sister wanted to come as
well but her mother didn't think it would be suitable.

William was there to meet him off the train. "Come to think of it," said
Matthew, as the chauffeur drove them back to Beacon Hill, "isn't it time
you got yourself laid, William?  There, must be some girls in Boston
with absolutely no taste."

"Why, have you had a girl, Matthew?"

"Sure, last winter in New York."

"What was I doing at the time?"

Trobably touching up on Bertrand Russell.. "You never told me about it.,
"Nothing much to tell.  In any case, you seemed more involved in my
father's bank than my budding love life.

It all happened at a staff party my father gave to celebrate
Washington's birthday.  Another first for old wooden teeth.

Actually, to put the incident in its proper perspective, I was raped by
one of the director's secretaries, a large lady called Cynthia with even
larger breasts that wobbled when,,-,."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, but I can't believe for one moment that Cynthia did.  She was far
too drunk to realise I was there at the time.  Still.  you have to begin
somewhere and she was willing to give the boss's son a helping hand."

The vision of Alan Lloyd's prim, middle-aged secretary flashed across
William's mind.

"I don't think my chances of initiation by the chairman's secretary are
very good," he mused.

"You'd be surprised," said Matthew knowingly.. "The ones that go around
with their legs so firmly together are often the ones who can't wait to
get them apart.  I now accept most invitations, formal or informal, not
that dress matters much on these occasions."

The chauffeur put the car in the garage while the two young men ran up
the steps into William's house.

"You've certainly made some changes since I was last here," said
Matthew, admiring the modern r-ane furniture and new paisley wallpapers.
Only the crimson leather chair remained firmly rooted in its usual spot.

"The place needed brightening up a little," William offered.. "It was
like living in the Stone Age.  Besides, I didret want to be reminded of
...  Come on, this is no time to hang around discussing interior
decoration."

"When is everybody arriving for this party?"

"Ball, Matthew, the grandmothers insist on calling the event a ball."

"There is only one thing that can be described as a ball on these
occasions."

"Matthew, one director's secretary does not entitle you to consider
yourself a national authority on sex education.. "Oh, such jealousy, and
from one's dearest friend', Matthew sighed mockingly.

William laughed and looked at his watch.. "The first guest should arrive
in a couple of hours.  Time for a shower and to change.  Did you
remember to bring a dinner jacket?"

"Yes, but if I didn't I can always wear my pyjamas.  I usually leave one
or the other behind, but I've never yet managed to forget both.  In
fact, it might start a whole new craze if I arrived at the ball in my
pyjamas."

"I can't see my grandmothers enjoying the joke," said William.

The caterers arrived at six o'clock, twenty-three of them in all, and
the grandmothers at seven, regal in long black lace that swept along the
floor.  William and Matthew joined them in the front room a few minutes
before eight.

William was about to remove an inviting red cherry from the top of a
magnificent iced cake when he heard Grandmother Kane's voice from behind
him.

"Don't touch the food, William, it's not for you."

He swung round.. "Then who is it for?" he asked, as he kissed her on the
cheek.

"Don't be fresh, William, just because you're over six feet doesn't mean
I wouldn't spank you."

Matthew Lester laughed.

"Grandmother, may I introduce my closest friend, Mat-thew Lester?"

Grandmother Kane subjected him to a careful appraisal through her
pince-nez before venturing. "How do you do, young man?"

"It's an honour to meet you, Mrs.  Kane.  I believe you knew my
grandfather."

"Knew your grandfather?  Caleb Longworth Lester?  He proposed marriage
to me once, over fifty years ago.  I turned him down.  I told him he
drank too much, and that it would lead Mm to an early grave.  I was
right, so don't you drink, either of you; remember, alcohol dulls the
brain."

"We hardly get much chance with Prolibition," remarked Matthew
innocently.

"That will end soon enough, I'm afraid," said Grandmother Kane,
sniffing.. "President Coolidge is forgetting his upbringing.  He would
never have become President if that idiot Harding hadn't foolishly
died." .  William laughed.

"Really, Grandmother, your memory is getting selective.  You wouldn't
hear a word against him during the police strike."

Mrs.  Kane did not reply.

The guests began to appear, many of them complete strangers to their
host who was delighted to see Alan Lloyd among the early arrivals.

"You're looking well, my boy," he said, finding himself looking up at
William for the first time in his life.

"You too, Alan.  It was kind of you to come."

"Kind?  Have you forgotten that the invitation came from your
grandmothers?  I am possibly brave enough to refuse one of them, but
both .  .  ."

"You too, Alan?" William laughed.. "Can you spare a moment for a private
word?" He guided his guest towards a quiet corner.. "I want to change my
investment plans slightly and start buying Lester's bank stock whenever
it comes on to the market.  I'd like to be holding about five percent of
their stock by the time I'm twenty-one."

"It's not that easy," said Alan.. "Lester's shares don't come on the
market all that often as they are all in private hands, but I'll see
what can be done.  What is going on in that mind of yours, William?"

"Well, my real aim is

"William." Grandmother Cabot was bearing down on them at speed.. "Here
you are conspiring in a corner with Mr.  Lloyd and I haven't seen you
dance with one young lady yet.  What do you imagine we organised this
ball for?"

"Quite right," said Alan Lloyd, rising.. "You come and sit down with me,
Mrs.  Cabot, and I'll kick the boy out into the world.  We can rest,
watch him dance, and listen to the music."

"Music?  That's not music, Alan.  It's nothing more than a loud
cacophony of sound with no suggestion of melody.. "My dear grandmother,"
said William, "that is "Yes, We Have No Bananas", the latest hit song."

"Then the time has come for me to depart this world," said Grandmother
Cabot, wincing.

"Never," Alan Lloyd said gallantly.

William danced with a couple of girls whom he had a vague recollection
of knowing, but he had to be reminded of their names, and when he
spotted Matthew sitting in it corner, he was glad of the excuse to
escape the dance floor-.

He had not noticed the girl sitting next to Matthew until he was right
on top of them.  When she looked up into "A',,!

liam's eyes, he felt his knees give way.

"Do you know Abby Blount?" asked Matthew casually.

"No," said William, barely restraining himself from straightening his
tie.

"This is your host, Mr.  William Lowell Kane." The young lady cast her
eyes demurely downwards as He took the seat on the other side of her.
Matthew had noted the look William gave Abby and went off in search of
sonic punch.

"How is it I've lived in Boston all my life, and we've never met?"
William said.

"We did meet once before.  On that occasion, you pushed me into the pond
on the Common; we were both three it the time.  It's taken me fourteen
years to recover."

"I am sorry," said William, after a pause during which I searched in
vain for more telling repartee.

"What a lovely house you have, William." There was a second busy
pause."Thank you,"said Williai ti weakly, He glanced sideways at Abby,
trying to look i; though he were not studying her.  She was slim - oh,
sf) slim - with huge brow ' n eyes, long eyelashes and a profile that
captivated William.  Abby had bobbed her auburn hair in the style
William had hated until that moment.

"Matthew tells me you are going to Harvard next year," she tried again.

"Yes, I am.  I mean, would you like to dance?"

"Thank you," she said.

The steps that had come to him so easily a few minutes before seemed now
to forsake him.  He trod on her toes and continually propelled her into
other dancers.  He apc>logised, she smiled.  He held her a little more
closely, and they danced on.

"Do we know that young lady who seems to have been inonopolising William
for the last hour?" said Grandmother (,abot suspiciously.

Grandmother Kane picked up her pince-nez and studied the girl
accompanying William as he strolled through the open bay windows out on
to the lawn.

"Abby Blount," Grandmother Kane declared.

"Admiral Blount's daughter?" enquired Grandmother Cabot.

Yes."

Grandmother Cabot nodded a degree of approval.

William guided Abby Blount towards the far end of the ,,arden and
stopped by a large chestnut tree which he had used in the past only for
climbing.

"Do you always try to kiss a girl the first time you meet her?" asked
Abby.

"To be honest," said William. "I've never kissed a girl I)before."

Abby laughed."I'm very flattered."

She offered first her pink cheek and then her rosy, pursed lips and then
insisted upon returning indoors.  The grandmothers observed their early
re-entry with some relief.

Later, in William's bedroom, the two boys discussed the evening.

"Not a bad party," said Matthew.. "Almost worth the trip from New York
out here to the provinces, despite your stealing my girl."

"Do you think she'll help me lose my virginity?" asked William, ignoring
Matthew's mock accusation.

"Well, you have three weeks to find out, but I fear you'll discover she
hasn't lost hers yet," said Matthew.. "Such is my expertise in these
matters that I'm willing to bet you five dollars she doesn't succumb
even to the charms of William Lowell Kane."

William planned a careful stratagem.  Virginity was one thing, but
losing five dollars to Matthew was quite another.

He saw Abby Blount nearly every day after that, taking advantage for the
first time of owning his own house and car at seventeen.  He began to
feel he would do better without the discreet but persistent chaperonage
of Abby's parents who seemed always to be in the middle distance and he
was not perceptibly nearer his goal when the last day of the holidays
dawned.

Determined to win his five dollars, William sent Abl>y a dozen roses
early in the day, took her out to an expensive dinner at Joseph's that
evening and finally succeeded in coaxing her back into his front room.

"How did you get hold of a bottle of whisky while Prohibition is on?"
asked Abby.

"Oh, it's not so hard," William boasted.

The truth was that he had hidden a bottle of Henry Os borne's bourbon in
his bedroom soon after he had left, and was now glad he had not poured
it down the drain as had been his original intention.

William poured drinks that made him gasp and brought tears to Abby's
eyes, He sat down beside her and put his arm confidently around her
shoulder. She settled in to it.

"Abby, I think you're terribly pretty,, he murmured in a preliminary way
at her auburn curls.

She gazed at him earnestly, her brown eyes wide.. "Oh, William," she
breathed.. "And I think you're just wonderful." Her doll-like face was
irresistible.  She allowed herself to be kissed.  Thus emboldened,
William slipped a tentative hand from her wrist on to her breast, and
left it there like a traffic cop halting an advancing stream of
automobiles.  She became pinkly indignant and pushed his arm down to
allow the traffic to move on.

"William, you musn't do that.. "Why not?" said William, struggling
vainly to retain his grasp of her.

"Because you can't tell where it might end."

"I've got a fair idea."

Before he could renew his advances, Abby pushed him away and rose
hastily, smoothing her dress.

"I think I ought to be getting home now, William."

"But you've only just arrived."

"Mother will want to know what I've been doing."

"You'll be able to tell her - nothing."

"And I think it's best it stays that way," she added.

"But I'm going back tomorrow." He avoided saying, "to school'.

"Well, you can write to me, William."

Unlike Valentino, William knew when he was beaten.  The rose,
straightened his tie, took Abby by the hand and drove her home.

The following day, back at school, Matthew Lester accepted the proffered
five-dollar note with eyebrows raised in mock astonishment.

tround St.  Paul's with a baseball bat."

just say one word, Matthew, and I'll chase you right

"I can't think of any words that would truly express my deep feeling of
sympathy."

"Matthew, right around St.  Paul's."

William began to be aware of his housemaste?s wife during his last two
terms at St.  Paul's.  She was a good-looking woman, a little slack
around the stomach and hips perhaps, but she carried her splendid bosom
well and the luxuriant dark hair piled on top of her head was no more
streaked with grey than was becoming.  One Saturday when William had
sprained his wrist on the hockey rink, Mrs.  Raglan bandaged it for him
in a cool compress, standing a little closer than was necessary,
allowing William's arm to brush against her breast.  He enjoyed the
sensation.  Then on another occasion when he had a fever and was
confined to the infirmary for a few days, she brought him all his meals
herself and sat on his bed, her body touching his legs through the thin
covering, while he ate.  He enjoyed that too.

She was rurnoured to be Grumpy Raglan's second wife.  No one in the
house could imagine how Grumpy had managed to secure even one spouse.
Mrs.  Raglan occasionally indicated by the subtlest Of sighs andsilences
tbatsbesbared something of their incredulity at her fate.

As part of his duties as house captain, William was required to report
to Grumpy Raglan every night at ten thirty when he had completed e
lights-out round and was about to go to bed himself.  One Monday
evening, when he knocked on Grumpy's door as usual, he was surprised to
hear Mrs.  Ragian's voice bidding Mm to' enter.  She was lying on the
chaise-longue dressed in a loose silk robe of faintly Japanese
appearance.

William kept a firm grasp on the cold door knob.. "All the lights are
out and I've locked the front door, Mrs.  Raglan.  Good night."

She swung her legs on to the ground, a pale flash of thi appearing
momentarily from under the draped silk.   gh

"You're always in such a hurry, William.  You can't wait for your life
to start, can you?, She walked over to a side table.. "Why don't you
stay and have some hot chocolate? Silly me, I made enough for two, I
quite forgot that Mister Raglan won't be back until Saturday."

There was a definite emphasis on the wor. "Saturday).  She carried a
steaming cup over to William and looked at him to see whether the
significance of her remarks had registered on him.  Satisfied, she assed
him the cup, letting her hand touch his.  p He stirred, the hot
chocolate assiduously.

"Gerald has gone to a conference," she continued explaining.  It was the
first time he had ever heard Grumpy Rag- lan's first name.. "Do shut the
door, William, and come and sit down., William hesitated; he shut the
door, but he did not want to take GrumPY's chair nor did he want to sit
next to Mrs.  Raglan.  He decided Grumpy's Chair was the lesser of two
evils and moved towards it.

'-No, no," she said, as she patted the seat next to her.

William shuffled over and sat down nervously by her side, -staring into
)is cup for inspiration.  Finding none, he gulped the contents down,
burning his tongue.  He was relieved to see Mrs.  Raglan getting up. She
refilled his cup, ignonn his murmured refusal, and then moved silently
across the room, wound up the Victrola and placed the needle on the
record.

"Nice and easy does it' were the first words that William heard.  He was
still looking at the floor, when she returned.

"You wouldn't let a lady dance by herself, would you, William?"

He looked up.  Mrs.  Raglan was swaying slightly in time to the music.
"We're on the- road to romance, thaes clear to say," crooned Rudy
Vallee.  William stood up and put his arm formally round Mrs.  Raglan.
Grumpy could have fitted in between them without any trouble.  After a
few bars she moved closer to William, and he stared over her right
shoulder fixedly to indicate to her that he had not noticed that her
left hand had slipped from his shoulder to the small of his back.  When
the record stopped, William thought it would give him  chance to return
to the safety of his hot chocolate, but she turned the record over and
was back in his arms before he could move.

"Mrs.  Raglan, I think I ought to

"Relax a little, William."

At last he found the courage to look her in the eyes.  He tried to
reply, but he couldrf t speak.  Her hand was now exploring his back, and
he felt her thigh move gently into his groin.  He tightened his hold
around her waist.

"That's better," she said.

They circled slowly around the room, closely entwined, slower and
slower, keeping time with the music as the record gently ran down.  When
she slipped away and turned out the light, William wanted her to return
quickly.  He stood there in the dark, not moving, hearing the rustle of
silk, and able only to see a silhouette discarding clothes.

The crooner had completed his song, and the needle was scratching at the
end of the record by the time she had helped William out of all his
clothes and led him back to the chaise-longue.  He groped for her in the
dark, and his shy ncvice's fingers encounted several parts of her body
that did not feel at all as he had ima "ned   would.

He withdrew them hastily to the comparatively familiar territory of her
breast.  Her fingers exhibited no such reticence, and he began to feel
sensations he would never have dreamed possible.  He wanted to moan out
loud, but stopped himself, fearing it would sound stupid.  Her hands
were on his back, pulling him gently on top of her.

William moved around wondering how he would ever enter her without
showing his total lack of experience.  It was not as easy as he had
expected, and he began to get more desperate by the second.  Then, once
again, her fingers moved across his stomach and guided him expertly.
With her help he entered her easily and had an immediate orgasm.

"I'm sorry," said William, not sure what to do next.  He Jay silently on
top of her for some time before she spoke.

"It will be better tomorrow."

The sound of the scratching record returned to his ears.

Mrs.  Raglan remained in William's mind all that endless Tuesday.  That
night, she sighed.  On Wednesday, she panted.  On Thursday, she moaned.
On Friday she cried out.

On Saturday Grumpy Raglan returned from his conference, by which time
William's education was complete.

During the Easter holidays, on Ascension Day to be exact, Abby Blount
finally succumbed to William's charms.  It cost Matthew five dollars and
Abby her virginity.  She was, after Mrs.  Raglan, something of an
anti-climax.  It was the only event of note that happened during the
entire holiday, because Abby went off to Palm Beach with her parents,
and William spent most of his time shut away indoors with his books, at
home to no one other than the grandmothers and Alan Lloyd.  His final
examinations were now only a matter of weeks away, and as Grumpy Raglan
went to no further conferences, William had no other outside activities.

During their last term, he and Matthew would sit in their study at St.
Paul's for hours, never speaking unless Matthew had some mathematical
problem he was quite unable to solve.  When the long awaited
examinations finally came, they lasted for only one brutal week.  The
moment they were over, both boys were sanguine about their results, but
as the days went by, and they waited and waited, their confidence began
to diminish.  The Hamilton Memorial Scholarship to Harvard for
mathematics was awarded on a strictly competitive basis and it was open
to every schoolboy in America. William had no way of judging how tough
his opposition might be.  As more time went by and still he heard
nothing, William began to assume the worst.

When the telegram arrived, he was out playing baseball with some other
sixth formers, killing the last few days of the term before leaving
school, those warm summer days ness, when boys are most likely to be
expelled for drunken breaking windows or trying to get into bed with one
of the master's daughters, if not their wives.  to those who cared
William was declaring in a loud voice to listen that he was about to hit
his first home run ever.  The Babe Ruth of St.  Paul's, declared
Matthew.  Much laughter greeted this exaggerated claim.  When the
telegram was handed to him, home runs were suddenly forgotten.  He
dropped his bat and tore open the little yellow envelope.

The pitcher waited, impatient, ball in hand, and so did the outfielders
as he read the communication slowly.

"They want you to turn professional," someone shouted from first base,
the arrival of a telegram being an uncommon occurrence during a baseball
game.  Matthew walked in from the outfield to join William, trying to
make out from his friend's face if the news were good or bad.  Without
changing his expression, William passed the telegram to Matthew, who
read it, leaped high into the air with delight, and dropped the piece of
paper to the ground to accompany William, racing around the bases on the
way to the first home run ever scored without anyone actually hitting
the ball.  The pitcher watched them, picked the telegram up and read the
missive himself and then he threw his ball into the bleachers with
gusto.  The little piece of yellow paper was then passed eagerly from
player to player around the field.  The last person to read the message
was the second former who, having caused so much happiness but received
no thanks, decided the least he deserved was to know the cause of so
much excitement.

The telegram was addressed to Mr.  William Lowell Kane, whom the boy
assumed to be the incompetent Mtter.

It read. "Congratulations on winning the Hamilton Memorial Mathematics
Scholarship to Harvard, full details to follow.  Abbot Lawrence Lowell,
President." William never did get his home run as he was sat heavily
upon by several fielders before he reached home plate.

Matthew looked on with delight at the success of his closest friend, but
he was sad to think that it meant they might now be parted.  William
felt it too, but said nothing; the two boys had to wait another nine
days to learn that Matthew had also been accepted to Harvard.

Yet another telegram arrived, this one from Charles Lester,
congratulating his son and inviting the boys to tea at the Plaza Hotel
in New York.  Both grandmothers sent congratulations to William, but as
Grandmother Kane informed Alan Lloyd, somewhat testily, "the boy has
done no less than was expected of him and no more than his father did
before him."

The two young men sauntered down Fifth Avenue on the appointed day with
considerable pride.  Girls' eyes were drawn to the handsome pair, who
affected not to notice.  They removed their straw boaters as they
entered the front door of the Plaza at three fifty-nine, strolled
nonchalantly through the lounge and observed the family group awaiting
them in the Palm Court.  There, upright in the comfortable chairs sat
both grandmothers, Kane and Cabot, flanking another old lady who,
William assumed, was the Lester family's equivalent of Grandmother Kane.
Mr.  and Mrs. Charles Lester, their daughter Susan (whose eyes never
left William), and Alan Lloyd completed the circle leaving two vacant
chairs for William and Matthew.

Grandmother Kane summoned the nearest waiter with an imperious eyebrow.
"A fresh pot of tea and some more cakes, please." a and The waiter made
haste to the kitchens.. "Pot of te some more cakes for table
twenty-three," he shouted above the clatter.

"Coming up," said a voice from the steamy obscurity.

"A pot of tea and some cream cakes, madam," the waiter said on his
return.

"Your father would have been proud of you today, William," the older man
was saying to the taller of the two youths.

The waiter wondered what it was that the good-looking young man had
achieved to elicit such a comment.

William would not have noticed the waiter at all but for the silver band
around his wrist.  The piece so easily might have come from Tiffany's;
the incongruity of it puzzled him.

"William," said Grandmother Kane.. "Two cakes are quite sufficient; this
is not your last meal before you go to Harvard."

He looked at the old lady with affection and quite forgot the silver
band.

That night as Abel lay awake in his small room at the Plaza Hotel,
thinking about the boy, William, whose father would have been proud of
him, he realised for the first time in his life exactly what he wanted
to achieve.  He wanted to be thought of as an equal by the Williams of
this world.

Abel had had quite a struggle on his arrival in New York.  He occupied a
room that contained only two  which he was obliged to share with George
and two of his cousins.  As a result, Abel slept only when one of the
beds was free.  George's uncle was unable to offer him a job, and after
a few anxious weeks during which most of his savings had to be Spent on
staying alive, Abel searched from Brooklyn to Queens before finding work
in a butcher's shop which paid nine dollars for a six and a half day
week, and allowed him to sleep above the premises.  The shop was in the
heart of an almost self-sufficient little Polish community on the lower
East Side, and Abel rapidly became impatient with the insularity of his
fellow countrymen, many of whom made no effort to learn to speak
English.

Abel still saw George and his constant succession of girl friends
regularly at weekends, but he spent most of his free evenings during the
week at night school learning how to read and write English.  He was not
ashamed of his slow progress, for he had had very little opportunity to
write at all since the age of eight, but within two years he had made
himself fluent in his new tongue, showing only the slightest trace of an
accent.  He now felt ready to move out of the butcher's shop - but to
what, and how?  Then, while dressing a leg of lamb one morning, he
overheard one of the shop's biggest customers, the catering manager of
the Plaza Hotel, grumbling to the butcher that he had had to fire a
junior waiter for petty theft.

"How can I find a replacement at such short notice? the manager
remonstrated.

The butcher had no solution to offer.  Abel did.  He put on his only
suit, walked forty-seven blocks, and got the job.

Once he had settled in at the Plaza, he enrolled for a night course in
English at Columbia Uversity.  He worked steadily every night,
dictionary open in one hand, pen scratching away in the other; during
the mornings, between serving breakfast and setting up the tables for
lunch, he would copy out the editorial from the New York Times, looking
up any word he was uncertain of in his second.  hand Webster's.

For the next three years, Abel worked his way through the ranks of the
PJaza/until he was promoted and became a waiter in the Oak Room, making
about twenty-five dollars a week with tips.  In his own world, he lacked
for nothing. -Abel's instructor at Columbia was so impressed by his
diti,ent progress in English that he advised Abel to enrol in a iurtlier
night course, which was to be his first step towards L Bachelor of Arts
degree.  He switched his sparetirne reading from English to economics
and started copying out the editorials in the Wall Street journal
instead of those in the New York Times.  His new world totally absorbed
him, and with the exception of George he lost touch with his Polish
friends of the early days.

When Abel served at table in the Oak Rrn, he would always study the
famous among the guests carefully - the Bakers, Lo6bs, Whitneys, Morgans
and Phelps - and try to ,vork out why it was that the rich were
different.  He read H.  L.  Mencken, The American Mercury, Scott
Fitzgerald, Sinclair Lewis and Theodore Dreiser in an endless quest for
knowledge.  He studied the New York Times while the other waiters
flipped through the Mirror, and he read the Wall Street journal in his
hour's break while they dozed.  He was not sure where his newly acquired
knowledge would lead him, but he never doubted the Baros maxim that
there was no true substitute for a good education.

One Thursday in August 1926 - he remembered the occasion well, because
it was the day that Rudolph Valentino died, and many of the ladies
shopping on Fifth Avenue wore black - Abel was serving as usual at one
of the corner tables.

The corner tables were always reserved for top business men who wished
to eat in privacy without fear of being overheard by prying ears.  He
enjoyed serving at that particular table, for it was the era of
expanding business, and he often picked up some inside information from
the titbits of conversation.  After the meal was over, if the host had
been from a bank or large holding company, Abel would look up the
financial record of the cornpan of the guests at the lunch, y and if he
felt the meeting had gone particularly well, he would invest one hundred
dollars in the smaller company, hoping it would be in line for a
takeover or expansion with the help of the larger company.  If the host
had ordered cigars at the end of the meal, Abel would increase his
investment to two hundred dollars.  Seven times out of ten, the value of
the stock he had selected in this way doubled within six months, the
period Abel would allow himself to hold on to the shares.  Using this
system he lost money only three times during the four years he worked at
the Plaza.

What made waiting on the corner table unusual on that particular day was
that the guests had ordered cigars even before the meal had started.
Later they were joined by more guests who ordered more cigars.  Abel
looked up the name of the host in the maitre d's reservation book.
Woolworth.  He had seen the name in the financial columns quite recently
but he could not immediately place it.  The other guest was Charies
Lester, a regular patron of the Plaza, whom Abel knew to be a
distinguished New York banker.  He listened to as much of the
conversation as he could while serving the meal.  The guests showed
absolutely no interest in the attentive waiter.  Abel could not discover
any specific details of importance, but he gathered that some sort of
deal had been Closed that morning and would be announced to an
unsuspecting public later in the day.  Then he remembered.  He had seen
the name in the Wall Street journal.  Woolworth was the man who was
going to start the first American fiveand-ten-cent stores.  Abel was
determined to get his five cents worth.  While the guests were enjoying
their dessert course most of them chose the strawberry cheese cake
(Abel's recommendation) - he took the opportunity to leave the dining
room for a few moments to call his broker in Wall Street.

"What are Woolworth's trading at?" he asked.

There was a ause from the other end of the line.. "Two p and one-eighth.
Quite a lot of movement lately; don't know why though," came the reply.

"Buy up to the limit of my account until you hear an announcement from
the company later today."

"What will the announcement say?" asked the puzzled broker.

"I am not at liberty to reveal that sort of information over the
telephone' said Abel.

The broker was suitably impressed; Abel's record in the past had led him
not to inquire too closely into the source of his client's information.

Abel hurried back to the Oak Room in time to serve the guests coffee.
They lingered over it for some time, and Abel returned to the table only
as they were Preparing to leave.  The man who picked up the bill thanked
Abel for his attentive service, and turning so that his friends could
hear him, sai. "Do you want a tip, young man?"

"Thank you, sir," said Abel.

"Buy WoolwortWs shares."   ell, took five The guests all laughed.  Abel
laughed as w dollars from the man and thanked him.  He took a further
two thousand four hundred and twelve dollars profit Dn wooiwortvs shares
during the next six months.

When Abel was granted full citizenship of theLJnited States, a few days
after his twenty-first birthday, he decided the occasion ought to be
celebrated.  He invited George and Monika, George's latest love, and a
girl called Clara, an exlove of George's, to the cinema to see John
Barrymore in on to Bigo 5s for dinner.  George was still Don Juan and
then  at eight dollars a week, an apprentice in his -uncle's bakery his
closest friend, and although Abel still looked upon him as he was aware
of the growing difference between the penil,-less George and himself,
who now had over eight thousand t Columbia dollars in the bank and was
in his last year a University studying for his B.A.  in economics.  Abel
knew where he was going) whereas George had stopped telling everyone he
would be the mayor of New York.

table evening, mainly be-The four of them had a memo   res   cause Abel
knew exactly what to expect from a good taurant.  His three guests all
had a great deal too much to eat, and when the bill was presented,
George was aghast to mont Abel see that it came to more than he earned
in a paid the bill without a second glance.  if you have to pay a bill,
make it look as if the amount is of no consequence.

If it is, don't go to the restaurant again, but whatever you do, don't
comment or look surprised - something else the rich had taught him.

When the party broke up at about two in the morning, George and Monika
returned to the lower East Side, while Abel felt he had earned Clara. He
smuggled her through the service entrance of the Plaza and up to his
room in a laundry lift.  She did not require much enticement to end up
in bed, and Abel set about her with baste, mindful that he had some
serious sleeping to do before reporting for breakfast duty.  To his
satisfaction, he had completed his task by twothirty and sank into an
uninterrupted sleep until his alarm rang at six a.m.  It left him just
time enough to have Clara once again before he had to get dressed.

Clara sat up in his bed and regarded Abel sullenly as he tied his white
bow tie, and kissed her a perfunctory goodbye.

"Be sure you leave the way you came, or you'll get me into a load of
trouble," said Abel.. "When will I see you again?"

"You won't," said Clara stonily.

"Why not?" asked Abel, surprised.. "Something I did?"

"No, something you didn't do." She jumped out of bed and started to
dress hastily.

"What didn't I do?" said Abel, aggrieved.. "You wanted to go to bed with
me, didn't you?"

She turned around and faced him.. "I thought I did until I realised you
have only one,thing in common with Valentino - you're both dead.  You
may be the greatest thing the Plaza has seen in a bad year, but in bed I
can tell you, you are nothing." Fully dressed now, she paused with her
hand on the door handle, composing her parting thrust.. "Tell me, have
you ever persuaded any girl to go to bed with you more than once?"

Stunned, Abel stared at the slammed door and spent the rest of the day
worrying about Clas words.  He could think of no one with whom he could
discuss the problem.  George would only laugh at him, and the staff at
the Plaza all thought he knew everything.  He decided that this problem,
like all the others he had encountered in his life, must be one he could
surmount with knowledge or experience.

After lunch, on his half day, he went to Scribner's bookshop on Fifth
Avenue.  They had solved all his economic and linguistic problems, but
he couldn't find anything there that looked as if it might even begin to
help his sexual ones.  Their special book on etiquette was useless and
The Nature of Morals by W.  F.  Colbert turned out to be utterly
inapproj)riate.

Abel left the bookshop without making a purchase and spent the rest of
the afternoon in a dingy Broadway cinema, not watching the film, but
thinking only about what Clara had said.  The film, a love story with
Greta Garbo that did not reach the kissing stage until the last reel,
provided no more assistance than Sciibner's had.

When Abel left the cinema, the sky was already dark ,and there was a
cool breeze blowing down Broadway.  It still surprised Abel that any
city could be as noisy and light by night as it was by day.  He started
walking uptown towards Fifty-ninth Street, hoping the fresh air would
clear his mind.  He stopped on the corner of Fifty-second to buy an
evening paper.

"Looking for a girl?" said a voice from behind the news-stand. -five and
Abel stared at the voice.  She was about thirty heavily made up, wearing
the new, fashionable lipstick.  Her white silk blouse had a button
undone, and she wore a long black skirt with black stockings and black
shoes.

"Only five dollars, worth every penny," she said, pushing her hip out at
an angle, allowing the slit in her skirt to part and reveal the top of
her stockings.

"Where?" said Abel.

"I have a little place of my own in the next block." She turned her
head, indicating to Abel which directior, she meant, and he could, for
the first time, see her face clearly under the street light.  She was
not unattractive.  Abel nodded his agreement, and she took his arm and
started walking.

"If the police stop us,, she said, "yotere an old friend and my name's
Joyce."

They walked to the next block and into a squalid little apartment
building, Abel was horrified by the dingy room she lived in, with its
single bare light bulb ' one chair, a wash basin and a crumpled double
bed, which had obviously already been used several times that day. "You
live here?" he said incredulously.

"Good God, no, I only use this place for my work.. "Why do you do this?,
asked Abel, wondering if he now wanted to go through with his plan.

"I have two children to bring up and no husband.  Can You think of a
better reason?  Now, do You want me or not.. "Yes, but not the way you
tMnk5 said Abel.

She eyed him warily.. "Not another of those whacky ones, a follower of
the Marquis de Sade, are you?"

"Certainly not," said Abel.

"You're not gonna burn me with cigarettes, then?"

"NO, nothing like that," said Abel, startled.. "I want to be taught
properly.  I want lessons."

"Lessons, are you joking?  What do you think this is darling, a fucking
night school?"

"Something like that," aid Abel and he sat down on the Comer of the bed
and explained to her bow Clara had reacted the night before.  cDO You
think you ran help?"

The lady of the night studied Abel carefully, wondering if it was April
the First.

"Sure," she said finally, I

'but it's going to cost you fi dollars a time for a thirty-minute
session.,   ve

"More expensive than a B.A.  from Columbia,, said Abel.. "How many
lessons will I need?"

"Depends how quick a learner you are, doesn't it?" said.        she

"Well let's start right now,"

said Abel, taking five dollars out of his inside pocket and handing the
money over to her.

She put the note in the top of her stocking, a sure sign she never took
them off.

"Clothes off, darling," she said.

fully dressed." . "You won't learn much When he was stripped, she looked
at him ducally.

"You're not exactly Douglas Fairbanks are you?  Don't worry about it, it
doest matter what you look like once the lights are out; it only matters
what you can do."

kbel sat on the edge of the bed while she started telling im li' about
how to treat a lady.  She was surprised that Abel really did not want
her and was even more surprised when He continued to turn up every day
for the next two weeks.

"When will I know I've made it?" Abel inquired.

You'll know, baby," replied Joyce.. "If you can make me come, you can
make an Egyptian mummy come."

She taught him first where the sensitive parts of a woman's body were,
and then to be patient in his love-making and the signs by which he
might know that what he was doing was pleasing.  How to use his tongue
and lips on every 1)lace other than a woman's mouth.

Abel listened carefully to all she said and followed her instructions
scrupulously and to begin with, a little bit too ii,4echanically.
Despite her assurance that he was improving ()klt of all recognition, he
had no real idea if she was telling t.,"ie truth, until about three
weeks and one hundred and ten dollars later, when to his surprise and
delight, Joyce sud(I enly came alive in his arms for the first time. She
held his litad close to her as he gently licked her nipples.

As he t I roked her gently between the legs, he found she was wet if(-)r
the first time - and after he had entered her she moaned, a sound Abel
had never heard before, and found intensely pleasing.  She clawed at his
back, commanding him not to stop.  The moaning continued, sometimes
loud, sometimes soft.  Finally she cried out sharply, and the hands that
had clutched him to her so fiercely relaxed.

When she had caught her breath, she said.. "Baby, you just graduated top
of the class."

Abel hadn't even come.

Abel celebrated the awarding of both his degrees by paying scalpe& price
for ringside seats and taking George, Monika and a reluctant Clara to
watch Gene Tunney fight Jack Dempsey for the heavyweight championship of
the world, That night after the fight, Clara felt it was nothing less
than her duty to go to bed with Abel as he had spent so much money on
her.  By the morning, she was begging Mm not to leave her.

Abel never asked her out again.

After he had graduated from Columbia, Abel became dissatisfied with his
life at the Plaza Hotel, but could not figure out how to secure further
advancement.  Although he was surrounded by some of the most wealthy and
successful men in America, he was unable to approach any of the
customers directly, knowing that if he did so, it might well cost him
his job and in any case, the customers could not take seriously the
aspirations of a waiter.  Abel had long ago decided that he wanted to be
a head waiter.

One day, Mr and Mrs.  Ellsworth Statler came to lunch at the Plaza's
Edwardian Room, where Abel had been on relief duty for a week.  He
thought his chance had come.  He did everything he could think of to
impress the famous hotelier, and the meal went splendidly.  As he left,
Statler thanked Abel warmly and gave him ten dollars, but that was the
end of their association.  Abel watched him disappear through the
revolving doors of the Plaza, wondering if he was ever going to get a
break.

Sammy, the head waiter tapped him on the shoulder. "What did you get
from Mr.  Statler?"

"Nothing," said Abel.

"He didn't tip you?" asked Sammy in a disbelieving tone.

"Oh, yes, sure," said Abel.. "Ten dollars." He handed the money over to
Sammy.

"That's more like it," said Sammy.. "I was beginning to think you was
double-dealing me, Abel.  Ten dollars, that's good even for Mr. Statler.
You must have impressed him.. "No, I didn't."

"What do you mean?" asked Sammy.

"It doesn't matter," said Abel, as he started walking away.

"Wait a moment, Abel, I have a note here for you.  The gentleman at
table seventeen, a Mr.  Leroy, wants to speak to you personally."

2. "What about, Sammy?"   ed your blue eyes."

"How should I know?  Probably like Abel glanced over to number
seventeen, strictly for the meek and the unknown, because the table was
so badly placed near a swing door into the kitchen.  Abel usually tried
to avoid serving any of the tables at that end of the room.

"Who is he?" asked Abel.. "What does he want?

"I don't know," said Sammy, not bothering to look up.. "I'm not in touch
with the life history of every customer the way you are.  Give them a
good meal, make sure you get yourself a big tip and hope they come
again.  You may feel it's a simple philosophy but it's, sure good enough
for me.  Maybe they forgot to teach you the basics at Columbia.

Now get your butt over there, Abel, and if its a tip be certain you
bring the money straight back to me."

Abel smiled at Sammy's bald head and went over to seventeen.  There were
two people seated at the table, a man in a colourful checked jacket, of
which Abel did not approve, and an attractive young woman with a mop of
blonde, curly hair, wl-lich momentarily distracted Abel, who
uncharitably assumed she was the checked jacket's New York girlfriend.
Abel put on his "sorry smile', betting himself a silver dollar that the
man was going to make a big fuss about the swing doors and try to get
his table changed to impress the stunning blonde, No one liked being
near the smell of the kitchens and the continual banging of waiters
through the doors, but it was impossible to avoid using the table, when
the hotel was already packed with residents and many New Yorkers who
used the restaurant as their local eating place, and looked upon
visitors as little less than intruders.  Why did Sammy always leave the
tricky customers for Mm to deal with?  Abel approached the checked
jacket cautiously.

"You asked to speak to me, sir?"

"Sure did," said a Southern accent.. "My name is Davis Leroy, and this
is my daughter Melanie."

Abel's eyes left Mr.  Leroy momentarily and encountered a pair of eyes
as green as any he had ever seen.

r

"I have been watching you, Abel, for the last five days," Mr.  Leroy was
saying in his Southern drawl.

If pushed, Abel would have had to admit that he had not noticed Mr.
Leroy until the last five minutes.

"I have been very impressed by what I've seen, Abel, because you got
class, real class, and I am always on the lookout for that.  Ellsworth
Statler was a fool not to pick you up right away."

Abel began to take a closer look at Mr.  Leroy.  I-Es purple cheeks and
double chin left Abel in no doubt that he had not been told about
Prohibition, and the empty plates in front of him accounted for his
basketball bell but neither Y, the name nor the face meant anything to
him.  At a normal lunchtime, Abel was familiar with the background of
anyone sitting at terty-seven of the thirty-nine tables in the Edwardian
Room.  That day Mr.  Leroy was one of the unknown two, The Southerner
was still talking.. "Now, I'm not one of those multi-millionaires who
have to sit at your corner table while they stay at the--Plaza., Abel
was impressed.  The average customer wasn't supposed to appreciate the
relative merits of the various tables.

"But I'm not doing so badly for myself.  In fact, my best hotel may well
grow to be as impressive as this one some day, Abel,"

"I am sure it will be, sir," said Abel, playing for time.

Leroy, Leroy, Leroy.  The name didn't mean a thing.. "Lemme git to the
point., son.  The number one hotel in my group needs a new assistant
manager, in charge of the restaurants.  If you're interested, join me in
my room when You come off duty."

He handed Abel a large embossed card.

"Thank you, sir," said Abel, looking at it: Davis Leroy The Richmond
Group of Hotels, Dallas.  Underneath was inscribed the motto. "One day a
hotel in every state." The name still meant nothing to Abel. "I look
forward to seeing you," said the friendly, checkjacketed Texan.

"Thank you, sit," said Abel.  He smiled at Melanie, whose eyes were as
coolly green as before and returned to Sammy, still head down, counting
his takings.

"Ever heard of the Richmond Group of Hotels, Sammy?"

"Yes, sure, my brother was a junior waiter in one once.  Must be about
eight or nine of them, all over the South, run by a mad Texan, but I
can't remember the guy's name.  Why you asking?" said Sammy, looking up
suspiciously.

"No particular reason," said Abel.

"Ther&s always a reason with you.  Now what did table n want?" said
Sammy.

seventee

"Grumbling about the noise from the kitchen.  Can't say I blame him."

"What does he expect me to do, put Mm out on the veranda?  Who does the
guy think he is, John D.  Rockefeller?" Abel left Sammy to his counting
and grumbling and cleared his own tables as quickly as possible.  Then
he went to his room and started to check out the Riclunond Group.  A few
calls and h6d learned enough to satisfy his curiosity, The group turned
out to be a private company, with eleven hotels in all, the most
impressive one a three hundred and forty-two bedroom deluxe
establishment in Chicago, the Richmond Continental.  Abel decided he had
nothing to lose by paying a call on Mr.  Leroy and Melanie.  He checked
Mr.  Leroy's room number - 85 - one of the better smaller rooms.  He
arrived a little before four o'clock and was disappointed to discover
Melanie was no longer with her father.

"Glad you could drop by, Abel.  Take a seat."

It was the first time Abel had sat down as a guest in the more than four
years he had worked at the Plaza.. "What are you paid?" said Mr.  Leroy.

The suddenness of the question took Abel by surprise.. "I take in around
twenty-five dollars a week with tips.. "I'll start you at thirty-five a
week.. "Which hotel are you referring to?" asked Abel. "If I'm a judge
of character, Abel, you got off table duty about ffime-tmrty and took
the next thirty minutes finding out which hotel.  Am I right?"

Abel was beginning to like the man.. "The Richmond Continental in
Chicago?" he ventured.

Davis Leroy laughed.. "I was right, and right about you." Abel's mind
was working fast.. "How many people are there over the assistant manager
on the hotel staff ?"

"Only the manager and me.  The manager is slow, gentle, and near
retirement, and as I have ten other hotels to worry about, I don't think
you'll have too much trouble - although I must confess Chicago is my
favouxite, my first hotel in the North, and with Melanie at school
there, I find I spend more time in the Windy City than I ought to. Don't
ever make the mistake New Yorkers do of underestimating Chicago.  They
think Chicago is only a postage stamp on a very large envelope, and they
are the envelope." Abel smiled.

"The hotel is a little run down at the moment," Mr.  Leroy continued,
'and the last assistant manager walked out on me suddenly without an
explanation, so I need a good man to take his place and to realise its
full potential.  Now listen, Abel, I've watched you carefully for the
last five days and I know you're that man.  Do you think you would be
interested in coming to Chicago?"

4Forty dollars and ten percent of any increased profits, and I'll take
the job."

"What?" said Davis Leroy, flabbergasted.. "None of my managers are paid
on a profit basis.  The others would raise hell if they ever found out."

"I'm not going to tell them if you don't," said Abel.

"Now I know I chose the right man, even if he bargains a damn sight
better than a Yankee with six daughters." He slapped the side of his
chair.. "I agree to your terms, Abel.. "Will you be requiring
references, Mr.  Leroy?"

"References.  I know your background and history since YOU left Europe
right through to you getting a degree in economics at Columbia.  What do
you think I've been doing the last few days?  I wouldn't put someone who
needed references in as number two in my best hotel.  When can you
start?"

"A month from today."

"Good.  I look forward to seeing you then, Abel."

Abel rose from the hotel chair; he felt happier standing.  He shook
hands with Mr.  Davis Leroy, the man from table seventeen - the one that
was strictly for unknowns.

Leaving New York and the Plaza Hotel, his first real home since the
castle near Slonim, turned out to be more of a wrench than Abel had
anticipated.  Goodbyes to George, Monika, and his few Columbia friends
were unexpectedly hard, Saxnmy and the waiters threw a farewell party
for him.

"We haven't heard the last of you, Abel Rosnovski," Sammy said, and they
all agreed.

The Richmond Continental in Chicago was well-placed on Michigan Avenue,
in the heart of the fastest growing city in America, That pleased Abel,
who was only too familiar with Ellsworth Statler's maxim that just three
things about a hotel really mattered: position, position and position.
Abel soon discovered that position was about the only good thing that
the Richmond had, Davis Leroy had understated the case when he had said
that the hotel was a little run down.  Desmond Pacey, the manager,
wasn't slow and gentle as Davis Leroy had described him; he was plain
lazy and didn't endear himself to Abel by allocating him a tiny room in
the staff annex across the road and leaving him out of the main hotel. A
quick check on the Richmond's books revealed that the daily occupancy
rate was running at less than forty percent, and that the restaurant was
never more than half full, not least of all because the food was so
appalling.  The staff spoke three or four languages among them, none of
which seemed to be English, and there were certainly not any signs of
welcome for the stupid Polack from New- York.  It was not hard to see
why the last assistant manager had left in such a hurry.  If the
Richmond was

2 I Davis Leroy's favourite hotel, Abel feared for the other teri in the
group, even though his new employer seemed to have.  a bottoznless pot
of gold at the end of his Texas rainbow.

The best news that Abel learned during his first days in Chicago was
that Melanie Leroy was an only child.

William and Matthew started their freshmen year at Harvard in the fall
of 1924.  Despite his grandmothers' disapproval William accepted the
Hamilton Memorial Scholarship and at a cost of two hundred and ninety
dollars, treated lmself t. "Daisy', the latest Model T Ford, and first
real love of his life.  He painted Daisy bright yellow, which halved her
value and doubled the number of his girlfriends.  Calvin Coolidge won a
landslide election to return to the White House and the volume on the
New York Stock Exchange reached a five-year record of two million, three
hundred and tmrty-six thousand, one hundred and sixty shares.

Both young men (we can no longer refer to them as children, pronounced
Grandmother Cabot) had been looking for.  ward to college.  After an,
energetic summer of tennis and golf, they were ready to get down to more
serious pursuits.  William started work on the day he arrived in their
new room on th. "Gold Coast', a considerable improvement on their small
study at St.  Paul's, while Matthew went in search of the university
rowing club.  Matthew was elected to captain the freshmen crew, and
William left his books every Sunday afternoon to watch his friend from
the banks of the Charles River.  He covertly enjoyed Matthew's success
but was outwardly scathing.

"Life is not about eight big men pulling unwieldy pieces of misshapen
wood through choppy water while one smaller man shouts at them,"
declared William haughtily.

."Tell Yale that," said Matthew.

William, meanwhile, quickly demonstrated to his mathematics professors
that he was in his studies what Matthew was in sport - a mile ahead of
the field.  He also became chair-man of the Freshmen Debating Society
and talked his great-uncle, President Lowell, into the first university
insurance plan, whereby students leaving Harvard would take out a life
policy for one thousand dollars each, naming the university as the
beneficiary.  William estimated that the cost to each participant would
be less than a dollar per week and that if forty percent of the alumni
joined the scheme, Harvard would have a guaranteed income of about three
million dollars a year from 1950 onwards.  The president was impressed
and gave the scheme his full support, and a year later he invited
William to join the board of the University Fund Raising Committee.
William accepted with pride without realising the appointment was for
life.  President Lowell informed Grandmother Kane that he had captured
one of the best financial brains of his generation, free of charge.
Grandmother Kane testily replied to her cousin that, "everything has its
purpose and this will teach William to read the fine print."

Almost as soon as the sophomore year began, it became time to choose (or
to be chosen for) one of the Finals Clubs that dominated the social
landscape of the well-to-do at Harvard.  William was "punched' for the
Porcellian, the oldest, richest, most exclusive and least ostentatious
of such clubs.  In the clubhouse on Massachusetts Avenue, which was
incongruously situated over a cheap Hayes-Bickford cafeteria, he would
sit in a comfortable armchair, considering the four-colour map problem,
discussing the repercussions of the Loeb-Leopald trial, and idly
watching the street below through the conveniently angled mirror while
listening to the large newfangled radio.

During the Chiisunas holidays, he was persuaded to ski with Matthew in
Vermont, and spent a week panting uphill in the footsteps of his fitter
friend.

"Tell me, Matthew, what is the point of spending one hour climbing up a
bill only to come back down the same hill III a few seconds at
considerable risk to life and limb?"

Matthew grunted.. "Sure gives me a bigger kick than graph theory,
William.  Why don't you admit you're not very good either at the going
up or the coming down?"

They both did enough work in their sophomore year to get by, although
their interpretations of "getting by' were wildly different.  For the
first two months of the summer holidays, they worked as junior
management assistants in Charles Lester's bank in New York, Matthew's
father having long since given up the battle of trying to keep William
away.  When the dog days of August arrived, they spent most of their
time dashing about the New England countryside i. "Daisy, sailing on the
Charles River with as many different girls as possible and attending any
house party to which they could get themselves invited.  In no time,
they were among the accredited personalities of the university, known to
the cognoscenti as the Scholar and the Sweat.  It was perfectly
understood in Boston society that the girl who mariied William Kane or
Matthew Lester would have no fears for her future, but as fast as
hopeful mothers appeared with their fresh-faced daughters, Grandmother
Kane and Grandmother Cabot despatched them unceremoniously.

On April 18,1927, William celebrated his twenty-first birthday by
attending the final meeting of the trustees to his estate.  Alan Lloyd
and Tony Sinunons had prepared all the documents for signature.

"Well, William dear," said Milly Preston as if a great responsibility
had been lifted from her shoulders. "I'm sure you'll be able to do every
bit as well as we did."

"I hope so, Mrs.  Preston, but if ever I need to lose half a million
overni ht, I'll know just whom to call."

Milly Preston went bright red but made no attempt to reply.

The trust now stood at over twenty-eight million dollars, and William
had definite plans for the nurture of that but he had also set himself
the task of making a itiltlion dollars in his own right before he left
Harvard.  It nt in his trust, %%!its not a large sum compared with the
axnou I)ut his inherited wealth meant fax less to him than the I)alance
in his account at Lester's.

That summer, the grandmothers, fearing a fresh outbreak ew on the of
predatory girls, despatched William and Matth grand tour of Europe,
which turned out to be a great success for both of them.  Matthew,
surmounting all language barriers, found a beautiful girl in every major
European capital love, he assured William, was an international
commodity.  William secured introductions to a director of most of the
major European banks - money, he assured Matthew, was also an
international commodity.  From London to Berlin to Rome, the two young
men left a trail o broken hearts and suitably impressed bankers.  When
they returned to Harvard in September, they were both ready to hit the
books for their final year.

In the bitter winter of 1927, Grandmother Kane died5 aged eighty-five,
and William wept for the first time since his mother's death.

4come on," said Matthew, after bearing with William's depression for
several days.. "She had a good run and waited a long time to find out
whether God was a Cabot or a Lowell." William missed the shrewd words he
had so little appretime, and he arranged a ciated in his grandmother's
life funeral which she would have been poud to attend.  Alin a black
though the great lady arrived at the cemetery Packard hearse ('One of
those newfangled contraptions over my dead body', but, as it turned out,
under it), this unsound mode of transport would have been her only
criticism of Williams orchestration of her departure.  Her death drove
William to work with ever more purpose during that final year at
Harvard.  He dedicated, himself to winning the top Grandmother Cabot
died mathematics prize in her memory r some six months later, probably,
said William, because there was no one left for her to talk to.

In February 1928, William received a visit from the capta' in of the
Debating Team.  There was to be a full-dress debate the following month
on the motio. "Socialism or Capitalisii i for America's Future', and
William was naturally asked to represent capitalism.

"And what if I told you I was only willing to speak on behalf of the
downtrodden masses?" William inquired Of the surprised captain, slightly
nettled by the thought that his intellectual views were simply assumed
by outsiders because he had inherited a famous name and a prosperous
bank.

"Well, I must say, William, we did imagine your own preference would be
for, er .  .  ."

"It is, I accept your invitation.  I take it that I am at liberty to
select my partner?"

"Naturally."

"Good, then I choose Matthew Lester.  May I know who our opponents will
be?"

"You will not be informed until the day before, when the posters go up
in the Yard."

For the next month Matthew and William turned their breakfast critiques
of the'newspapers of the left and right, and their nightly discussions
about the meaning of life, into strategy sessions for what the campus
was beginning to cal. "The Great Debate'.

William decided that Matthew should lead off.

As the fateful day approached, it became clear that most of the
politically aware students, professors, and even some Boston and
Cambridge notables would be attending.  on the morning before the debate
they walked over to the Yard to discover who their opposition would be.

"Leland Crosby and Thaddeus Cohen.  Either nai-the rina bell with you,
William?  Crosby must be one of the Philadelphia Crosby's, I suppose."

"Of course he is.  "The Red Maniac of Rittenhouse Square", as his own
aunt once described him so a ccurately.  He's the most convincing
revolutionary on campus.  He's loaded, and he spends all his money on
the popular radical causes.  I can hear his opening now."

William parodied Crosby's grating tone.. "I know at first hand the
rapacity and the utter lack of social conscience of the American monied
class." If everyone in the audience hasn't heard that fifty times
already, I'd say hall make a formidable opponent."

"And Thaddeus Cohen?"

"Never heard of hiria."

The following evening, refusing to admit to stage fright, they made
their way through the snow and cold wind, heavy overcoats flapping
behind them, past the gleaming columns of the recently completed Widener
Library - like William's father, the donoes son had gone down on the
Titanic - to Boylston Hall.

"With weather like this, at least if we take a beating there won't be
many to tell the tale," said Matthew hopefully.

But as they rounded the side of the library, they could see ady stream
of stamping, buffing figures ascending the a ste stairs and filing into
the hall.  Inside, they were shown to chairs on the podium, William sat
still but his ey cries picked out the people he knew in the audience:
Presid t Lowell, sitting discreetly in the middle row; ancient old
Newbury St.  John, Professor of Botany; a pair of Brattle Street
bluestockings he recognised from Red House parties; and to his right, a
group of Bohemian-looking young men and women, some not even wearing
ties, who turned and started to clap as their spokesmen - Crosby and
Cohen - walked on to the stage, Crosby was the more striking of the two,
tall and thin almost to the point of caricature, dressed absentmindedly
or very carefully - in a shaggy tweed suit, but with a stiffly pressed
shirt, and dangling a pipe with no apparent connection to his body
except at his lower lip.  Thaddeus Cohen was shorter and wore rimless
glasses and an almost too perfectly_.r-ut, dark worsted suit.

The four speakers shook hands cautiously as the last minute arrangements
were made.  The bells of Memorial Church, only a hundred feet away,
sounded vague and distant as they rang out seven times.

"Mr.  Leland Crosby, junior," said the captain.

Crosby's speech gave William cause for self-congratulation.  He had
anticipated everything, the strident tone Crosby would take, the
overstressed, nearly hysterical points he would make.  He recited the
incantations of American radicalism - Haymarket, Money Trust, Standard
Oil, even Cross of Gold.  William didn't think he had made more than an
exhibition of himself although he garriered the expected applause from
his claque on William's right.  When Crosby sat down, he had clearly won
no new supporters, and it looked as though he might have lost a few old
ones.  The comparison with William and Matthew - equally rich, equally
socially distinguished, but selfishly refusing martyrdom for the cause
of the advancement of social justice - just might be devastating.

Matthew spoke well and to the point soothing his listeners, the
incarnation of liberal toleration.  William pumped his friend's hand
warmly when he returned to his chair to loud applause.

"It's all over bar the shouting, I think," he whispered.

But Thaddeus Cohen surprised virtually everyone.  He had a pleasant,
diffident manner and a sympathetic style.

His references and quotations were catholic, pointed and illuminating.
Without conveying to the audience the feeling that it was being
deliberately impressed, he exuded a moral earnestness which made
anything less seem a failure to a rational human being.  He was willing
to admit the excesses of his own side and the inadequacy of its leaders,
but he left the impression that, in spite of its dangers, there was no
alternative to socialism if the lot of mankind were ever to be improved.

William was flustered.  A surgically logical attack on the political
platform of his adversaries would be useless against Cohen's gentle and
persuasive presentation.  Yet to outdo him as a spokesman of hope and
faith in the human spirit would be impossible.  William concentrated
first on refuting some of Crosby's charges and then countered Cohen's
arguments with a declaration of his own faith in the ability of the
American system to produce the best results through competition,
intellectual and economic.  He felt he had played a good defensive game,
but no more, and sat down supposing that he had been well beaten by
Cohen- Crosby was his opponent rebuttal speaker.  He began ferociously,
sounding as if he now needed to beat Cohen as much as William and
Matthew5 asking the audience if they could identify an "enemy of the
people' amongst themselves that night.  He glared around the room for
several long seconds, as members of the audience squirmed in embarrassed
silence and his dedicated supporters studied their shoes.  Then he
leaned forward and roared.       midst.. "He stands before you.  He has
just spoken in your His name is William Lowell Kane." Gesturing with one
hand towards where William sat without looking at him, he thundered:
"His bank owns mines in which the workers die to give its owners an
extra million a year in dividends.

His bank supports the bloody, corrupt dictatorships of Latin America.
Through his bank, the American Congress is bribed into crushing the
small farmers His bank .  w ."

The tirade went on for several minutes.  William sat in stony silence,
occasionally jotting down a comment on his yellow legal pad.  A few
members Of the audience had begun shoutin. "No." Crosby's supporters
shouted loyally back.  The officials began to look nervous.  He raised
his fist and Crosby's allotted time was nearly up, more than two hundred
said. "Gentlemen, I submit that not yards from this very room we have
the answer to the plight of America.  There stands the Widener Library5
the greatest private library in the world. Here poor and imrnigrarit
scholars come, along with the best educated Americans, to increase the
knowledge and prosperity of the world.  Why does it exist?  Because one
rich playboy had the misfortune to set sail sixteen years ago on a
pleasure boat called til,, Titanic. I suggest, ladies and gentlemen,
that not until til(People of America hand each and every member of the
niling class a ticket for his own private cabin on the Tita?il'(; of
capitalism, will the hoarded wealth of this great continent be freed and
devoted to the service of liberty, equality a3id progress."

As Matthew listened to Crosby's speech, his sentiments changed from
exultation that, by this blunder, the victory had been secured for his
side, through embarrassment at the behaviour of his adversary, to rage
at the reference to the Titanic.  He had no idea how William would
respond to such provocation.

When some measure of silence had been restored, the captain walked to
the lectern and d. "Mr.  William Lowell Kane."

William strode to the platform and looked out over the audience.  An
expectant hush filled the room.

;It is my opinion that the views expressed by Mr.  Crosby do not merit a
response."

He sat down.  There was a moment of surprise silence and then loud
applause.

The captain returned to the platform, but appeared uncertain what to do.
A voice from behind him broke the tension.

"If I may, Mr.  Chairman, I would like to ask Mr.  Kane if I might use
his rebuttal time." It was Thaddeus Cohen.

William nodded his agreement to the captain.

Cohen walked to the lectern and blinked at the audience disarmingly. "It
has long been true," he began, "that the greatest obstacle to the
successful democratic socialism in the United States has been the
extremism of some of its allies.  Nothing could have exemplified this
unfortunate fact more clearly than my colleague's speech tonight.  The
propensity to damage the progressive cause by calling for the physical
extermination of those who oppose it might be understandable in a
battle-hardened immigrants a veteran of foreign struggles fiercer than
our own.  In America it is pathetic and inexcusable.  Speaking for
myself, I extend my sincere apologies to Mr. Kane."

This time the applause was instantaneous.  Virtually the entire audience
rose to its feet and clapped continuously.

William walked over to shake hands with Thaddeus Cohen.  It was no
surprise to' either of them that William amd Matthew won the vote by a
margin of more than one hundred and fifty votes.  The evening was over,.
and the audience filed out into the silent, snow-covered paths, walking
in the middle of the street, ng animatedly at the tops of their voices.

William insisted that Thaddeus Cohen should join him and Matthew for a
drink.  They set off together across Massachusetts Avenue, barely able
to see where they were going in the drifting snow, and came to a halt
outside a big black door almost directly opposite Boylston Hall. William
opened it with  key and the three entered the vestibule.

Before the door shut behind him, Thaddeus Cohen spoke.. "I'm afraid I
won't be welcome here."

William looked startled for a second.. "Nonsense.  You're with me."

Matthew gave his friend a cautionary glance but saw that William was
determined.

They went up the stairs and into a large room, comfortably but not
luxuriously furnished, in which there were about a dozen young men
sitting in armchairs or standing in small knots of two and three.  As
soon as William appeared in the doorway, the congratulations started.

"You were marvelous, William.  Thaes exactly the way to treat those sort
of people.. "Enter in triumph, Bolski slayer." Thaddeus Cohen hung back,
still half-shadowed by the doorway, but William had not forgotten him.

"And, gentlemen, may I present my worthy adversary, Mr. Thaddeus Cohen."
Cohen stepped forward hesitantly.

All noise ceased.  A number of heads were averted, as if they were
looking at the elm trees in the yard, their branches weighed down with
new snow.

Finally, there was the crack of a floorboard as one young man left the
room by another door, Then there was another departure, Without haste,
without apparent agreement, the entire group filed out.  The last to
leave gave William a long look before he, too, turned on his heel and
disappeared.

Matthew gazed at his companions in dismay.  Thaddeus Cohen had turned a
dull red and stood with his head bowed.  William's lips were drawn
together in the same tight cold fury that had been apparent when Crosby
had made his reference to the Titanic.

Matthew touched his friend's arm.. "We'd better go."

The three trudged off to WilJiam's rooms and silently drank some
indifferent brandy.

When William woke in the morning, there was an envelope under his door.
Inside there was a short note, from the chairman of the Porcellian Club
informing him that "he hoped there would never be a recurrence of last
night's, best forgotten, incident."

By lunchtime the chain-nan had received two letters of resignation.

After months of long, studious days, William and Matthew were almost
ready - no one ever thinks he is quite ready for their final
examinations.  For six days they answered questions and filled up sheets
and sheets of the little books, and then they waited, not in vain for
they both graduated as expected from Harvard in June of 1928.

A week later it was announced that William was the winner of the
President's Mathematics Prize, He wished his father had been alive to
witness the presentation ceremony.  Matthew managed an hones. "C', which
came as a relief to Mm and no great surprise to anyone else.  Neither
had any interest in further education, both having elected to join the
real world as quickly as possible.

William's bank account in New York edged over the million dollar mark
eight days before he left Harvard.  It was then that he discussed in
greater detail with Matthew l long term plan to gain control of Lester's
Bank by merging it with Kane and Cabot.

Matthew was enthusiastic about the idea and confessed. "That's about the
only way I'll ever improve on what my old man will undoubtedly leave me
when he dies."

On graduation day, Alan Lloyd, now in his sixtieth year, came to
Harvard.  After the graduation ceremony) William took his guest for tea
on the square.  Alan eyed the tall young man affectionately.

"And what do you intend to do now that you have put Harvard behind you?"

"I'm going to join Charles Lester's bank in New York and gain some
experience before I come to Kane and Cabot in a few years' time."

"But you've been living in Lester's bank since you were twelve years
old, William.  Why don't you come straight to us now?  We would appoint
you as a director immediately."

William said nothing.  Alan Lloyd's offer came as a total surprise. With
all his ambition, it had never occurred to him, even for a moment, that
he might be invited to be a director of the bank before he was
twenty-five, the age at which his father had achieved that distinction.

Alan Lloyd waited for his reply.  It was not forthcoming.. "Well, I must
say, William, it's most unlike you to be rendered speechless by
anything."

"But I never imagined you would invite me to join the board before my
twenty-fifth birthday, when my father .

.  .. "It's true your father was elected when he was twenty-five.
However, that's no reason to prohibit you from joining the board before
then if the other directors support the idea, and I know that they do.
In any case, there are personal reasons why I should like to see you a
director as soon as possible.  When I retire from the bank in five
years' time, we must be sure of electing the right chairman.  You will
be in a stronger position to influence that decision if you have been
working for Kane and Cabot during those five years rather than as a
grand functionary at Lester's.  Well, my boy, will you join the board?"

It was the second time that day that William wished his father were
still alive.

"I should be delighted to accept, sir," he said.

Alan looked up at William.. "That's the first time you've called me
"sir" since we played golf together.  I shall have to watch you very
carefully."

William smiled.

"Good," said Alan Lloyd, "that's settled then.  You'll be a junior
director in charge of investments, working directly under Tony Simmons."

"Can I appoint my own assistant?" asked William.

Alan Lloyd looked at him quizzically.. "Matthew Lester, no doubt?"

"Yes.

"No.  I don't want him doing in our bank what you intended to do in
theirs.  Thomas Cohen should have taught you that."

William said nothing but never underestimated Alan again.

Charles Lester laughed when William repeated the conversation word for
word to him.

"I'm so to hear you won't be coming to us, even as a spy," he said
genially, "but I have no doubt you'll end up here some day - in one
capacity or another."

Book Three

When William started work as a junior director of Kane and Cabot in
September 1928, he felt for the first time in his life that he was doing
something really worthwhile.  He began his career in a small
oak-panelled office next to Tony Simmons, the bank's director of
finance.  From the week that William arrived, he knew without a word
being spoken that Tony Simmons was hoping to succeed Alan Lloyd as
chairman of the bank.

The banles entire investment programme was Simmons' responsibility.  He
quickly delegated to William some aspects of his work; in particular,
private investment in small businesses, land, and any other outside
entrepreneurial activities in which the bank became involved.  Among
William's official duties was to make a monthly report on the
investments he wished to recommend, at a full meeting of the board.  The
fourteen board members met once a month in a larger oakpanelled room,
dominated at both ends by portraits, one of William's father, the other
of his grandfather.

William had never known his grandfather, but had always considered he
must have been a "hell of a man' to have married Grandmother Kane. There
was ample room left on the walls for his own portrait.

William conducted himself during those early months at the bank with
caution, and his fellow board members soon came to respect his judgment
and follow his recommendations with rare exceptions.  As it turned out,
the advice they rejected was among the best that William ever gave.  On
the first occasion, a Mr.  Mayer sought a loan from the bank to invest
in "talking pictures' but the board refused to see that the notion had
any merit or future.  Another time, a Mr.  Paley came to William with an
ambitious plan for United, the radio network.  Alan Lloyd, who had about
as much respect for telegraphy as for telepathy, would have nothing to
do with the scheme.  The board supported Alan's views, and Louis B.
Mayer later headed M.G.M.  and William Paley the company that was to
become C.B.S.  William believed in his own judgment and backed both men
with money from his trust and, like his father, never informed the
recipients of his support.

One of the more unpleasant aspects of William's day-to-day work was the
handling of the liquidations and bankruptcies of clients who had
borrowed large sums from the bank and had subsequently found themselves
unable to repay their loans.  William was not by nature a soft person,
as Henry Osborne had learned to his cost, but insisting that old and
respected clients liquidate their stocks and even sell their homes did
not make for easy sleeping at nights.  William soon learned that these
clients fell into two distinct categories; those who looked upon
bankruptcy as a part of everyday business and those who were appalled by
the very word and who would spend the rest of their lives trying to
repay every penny they had borrowed.

William found it natural to be tough with the first category but was
almost always far more lenient with the second, with the grudging
approval of Tony Simmons.

It was during such a case that William broke one of the bank's golden
rules and became personally involved with a client.  Her name was
Katherine Brookes, and her husband, Max Brookes, had borrowed over a
million dollars from Kane and Cabot to invest in the Florida land boom
of 1925, an investment William would never had backed had he then been
working at the bank.  Max Brookes had, however, been something of a hero
in Massachusetts as one of the new intrepid breed of balloonists and
flyers, and a close friend of Charles Lindbergh into the bargain.

Brookes' tragic death when the small plane he was piloting, at a height
of all of ten feet above the ground, hit a tree only a hundred yards
after take-off was reported in the press across the length and breadth
of America as a national loss.

William, acting for the bank, immediately took over the Brookes estate,
which was already insolvent, dissolved it and tried to cut the bank ' "s
losses by selling all the land held in Florida except for two acres on
which the family home stood.  The bank's loss was still over three
hundred thousand dollars.  Some directors were slightly critical of
Willias snap decision to sell off the land, a decision with which Tony
Simmons had not agreed.  William had Simmons' disapproval of his actions
entered on the minutes and was in a position to point out some months
later, that if they had held on to the land, the bank would have lost
most of its original investment of one million.  This demonstration of
foresight did not endear him to Tony Simmons although it made the rest
of the board conscious of Williarres uncommon perspicacity.

When William had liquidated everything the bank held in Max Brookes'
name, he turned his attention to Mrs.  Brookes, who was under a personal
guarantee for her late husband's debts.  Although William always tried
to secure such a guarantee on any loans granted by the bank, the
undertaking of such an obligation was not a course that he ever
recommended to friends, however confident they might feel about the
venture on which they were about to embark, as failure almost invariably
caused great distress to the guarantor.

William wrote a formal letter to Mrs.  Brookes, suggesting that she make
an appointment to discuss the position.  He had read the Brookes file
conscientiously and knew that she was only twenty-two years old, a
daughter of Andrew Higginson, the head of an old and distinguished
Boston family, and that she had substantial assets of her own.  He did
not relish the thought of requiring her to make them over to the bank,
but he and Tony Simmons were, for once, in agreement on the line to be
taken, so he steeled himself for an unpleasant encounter.

What William had not bargained for was Katherine Brookes herself.  In
later life, he could always recall in great detail the events of that
morning.  He had had some harsh words with Tony Simmons about a
substantial investment in copper and tin, which he wished to recommend
to the board.  Industrial demand for the two metals was rising steadily,
and William was confident that a world shortage was certain to follow.
Tony Simmons could not agree with him, insisting they should invest more
cash in the stock market, and the matter was still uppermost in
William's mind when his secretary ushered Mrs. Brookes into his office.
With one tentative smile, she removed copper, tin and all other world
shortages from his mind.  Before she could sit down, he was around on
the other side of his desk, settling her into a chair, simply to assure
himself that she would not vanish, like a n-iirage, on closer
inspection.  Never had William encountered a woman he considered half as
lovely as Katherine Brookes.  Her lonfair hair fell in loose and wayward
curls to her shoulders, and little wisps escaped enchantingly from her
hat and clung around her temples.  The fact that she was in mourning in
no way detracted from the beauty of her slim figure.  "the fine bone
structure ensured that she was a woman who was going to look lovely at
every age.  Her brown eyes were enormous. They were , unmistakably,
apprehensive of him and what he was about to say.

William strove for his business tone of voice.. "Mrs.  Brookes, may I
say how sorry I was to learn of your husband's death and how much I
regret the necessity of asking you to come here today."

Two lies in a single sentence that would have been the truth five
minutes before.  He waited to hear her speak.

"Thank you, Mr.  Kane." Her voice was soft and had a gentle, low pitch.
"I am aware of my obligations to your bank and I assure you that I will
do everything in my power to meet them."

William said nothing, hoping she would go on speaking.  She did not, so
he outlined how he had disposed of Max Brookes' estate.  She listened
with downcast eyes.

"Now, Mrs.  Brookes, you acted as guarantor for your husband's loan and
that brings us to the question of your per2  p sonal assets." He
consulted his file.. "You have some eighty thousand dollars in
investments - your own family money, I believe - and seventeen thousand
four hundred and fifty-six dollars in your personal account."

She looked up.. "Your grasp of my financial position is commendable, Mr.
Kane.  You should add, however, Buckhurst Park, our house in Florida,
which was in Max's name, and some quite valuable jewellery of my own.  I
estimate that all together I am worth the three hundred thousand dollars
you still require, and I have made arrangements to realise the full
amount as soon as possible."

There was only the slightest tremor in her voice; William gazed at her
in admiration.

"Mrs.  Brookes, the bank has no intention of relieving you of your every
last possession.  With your agreement we would like to sell your stocks
and bonds.  Everything else you mentioned, including the house, we
consider should remain in your possession."

She hesitated.. "I appreciate your generosity, Mr.  Kane.  However, I
have no wish to remain under any obligation to your bank or to leave my
husband's name under a cloud." The little tremor again, but quickly
suppressed.. "Anyway, I have decided to sell the house in Florida and
return to my parents' home as soon as possible."

William's pulse quickened to hear that she would be coming back to
Boston.. "In that case, perhaps we can reach some agreement about the
proceeds of the sale," he said.

"We can do that now," she said flatly.. "You must have the entire
amount."

William played for another meeting.. "Don't let's make too hasty a
decision.  I think it might be wise to consult my colleagues and discuss
this with you again at a later date."

She shrugged slightly.. "As you wish.  I don't really care about the
money either way, and I wouldt want to put you to any inconvenience."

William blinked.. "Mrs.  Brookes, I must confess to have been surprised
by your magnanimous attitude.  At least allow me the pleasure of taking
you to lunch."

She smiled for the first time, revealing an unsuspected dimple in her
right cheek.  William gazed at it in delight and did his utmost to
provoke its reappearance over a long lunch at the Ritz.  By the time he
returned to his desk, it was well past three o'clock.

"Long lunch, William," commented Tony Simmons.

"Yes, the Brookes problem turned out to be trickier than I had
expected."

"It looked fairly straightforward to me when I went over the papers,"
said Simmons.. "She ist complaining about our offer, is she?  I thought
we were being rather generous in the circumstances."

"Yes, she thought so too.  I had to talk her out of divesting herself of
her last dollar to swell our reserves."

Tony Simmons stared.. "That doest sound like the William Kane we all
know and love so well.  Still, there has never been a better time for
the bank to be magnanimous."

William grimaced.  Since the day of his arrival, he and Tony Simmons had
been in growing disagreement about where the stock market was heading.
The Dow Jones had been moving steadily upward since Herbert Hoover's
election to the White House in November 1928.  In fact, only ten days
later, the New York stock exchange had a record of over six million
shares volume in one day.  But William was convinced that the upward
trend, fuelled by the large influx of money from the automobile
industry, would result in prices inflating to the point of instability.

Tony Simmons, on the other hand, was confident that the boom would
continue so that when William advocated caution at board meetings he was
invariably overruled.  However, with his trust money, he was free to
follow his own intuition, and started investing heavily in land, gold,
commodities and even in some carefully selected Impressionist paintings,
leaving only fifty percent of his cash in stocks.

When the Federal Reserve Bank of New York put out an edict declaring
that they would not re-discount loans to those banks which were
releasing money to their customers for the sole purpose of speculation,
William considered that the first nail had been driven into the
speculator's coffin.  He immediately reviewed the bank's lending
programme and esdmated that Kane and Cabot had over twenty-six million
dollars out on such loans.  He begged Tony Simmons to call in these
amounts, certain that, with such a government regulation in operation,
stock prices would inevitably fall in the long term.  They nearly had a
stand-up fight at the monthly board meeting, and William was voted down
by twelve to two.

On 21 March, 1929, Blair and Company announced its consolidation with
the Bank of America, the third in a series of bank mergers which seemed
to point to a brighter tomorrow, and on 25 March, Tony Simmons sent
William a note pointing out to him that the market had broken through to
yet another all time record, and proceeded to put more of the bank's
money into stocks.  By then, William had rearranged his capital so that
only twenty-five percent was in the stock market, a move that had
already cost him over two million dollars - and a troubled reprimand
from Alan Lloyd.

"I hope to goodness you know what you're doing, William.. "Alan, I've
been beating the stock market since I was fourteen, and I've always done
it by bucking the trend."

But as the market continued to climb through the summer of 1929, even
William stopped selling, wondering if Tony Simmons' judgment was, in
fact, correct.

As the time for Alan Lloyd's retirement drew nearer, Tony Sinunons'
clear intent to succeed him as chairman began to take on the look of a
fait accompli.  The prospect troubled William, who considered Simmons'
thinking was far too conventional.  He was always a yard behind the rest
of the market, which is fine during boom years when things are going
well, but can be dangerous for a bank in leaner, more competitive times.
A shrewd investor, in William's eyes, did not invariably run with the
herd, thundering or otherwise, but worked out in advance in which
direction the herd would be turning next.  William had already decided
that future investment in the stock market still looked risky while Tony
Simmons was convinced that America was entering a golden era.

William's other problem was simply that Tony Simmons was only
thirty-nine years old and that meant that Williaiii could not hope to
become chairman of Kane and Cabot for, at least another twenty-six
years.  That hardly fitted into what they had called at Harvard "one's
career pattern'.

Meanwhile, the image of Katherine Brookes remained clearly in his mind.
He wrote to her as often as he could about the sale of her stocks and
bonds: formal, typewritten letters which elicited no more than formal
handwritten responses.

She must have thought he was the most conscientious banker in the world.
Had she realised her file was becoming as large as any under William's
control she might have thought about it - or at least him - more
carefully.  Early in the autumn she wrote to say she had found a firm
buyer for the Florida estate.  William wrote to request that she allow
him to negotiate the terms of the sale on the bank's behalf, and she
agreed.

He travelled down to Florida in early September 1929.  Mrs.  Brookes met
him at the station and he was overwhelmed by how much more beautiful she
appeared in person than in his memory.  The slight wind blew her black
dress against her body as she stood waiting on the platform, leaving a
profile that ensured that every man except William would look at her a
second time.  William's eyes never left her.

She was still in mourning and her manner towards him was so reserved and
correct that William initially despaired of making any impression on
her.  He spun out the negotiatons with the farmer who was purchasing
Buckhurst Park for as long as he could and persuaded Katherine Brookes
to accept one-third of the agreed sale price while the bank took
two-thirds.  Finally, after the legal papers were signed, he could find
no more excuses for not returning to Boston.

He invited her to dinner at his hotel, resolved to reveal something of
his feelings for her.  Not for the first time, she took him by surprise.
Before he had broached the subject, she asked him, twirling her glass to
avoid looking at him, if he would like to stay over at Buckhurst Park
for a few days.

"A sort of holiday for us both." She blushed; William re-rnained silent.

Finally she found the courage to continue.. "I know this might sound
mad, but you must realise I've been very lonely.  The extraordinary
thing is that I seem to have enjoyed the last week with you more than
any time I can remember." She blushed again.. "I've expressed that
badly, and you'll think the worst of me."

William's pulse leaped.. "Kate, I have wanted to say something at least
as bad as that for the last nine months.. "Then you'll stay for a few
days, William?"

"Yes, Kate, I will."

That night she installed him in the main guest bedroom at Buckhurst
Park.  In later life William always looked back on these few days as a
golden interlude in his life.  He rode with Kate, and she outjumped him.
He swam with her, and she outdistanced him.  He walked with her and
always turned back first and so finally he resorted to playing poker
with her and won three and a half million dollars in as many hours of
playing.

"Will you take a cheque?" she said grandly.

"You forget I know what you're worth, Mrs.  Brookes, but I'll make a
deal with you.  We'll go on playing until you've won it back."

"It may take a few years," said Kate.

"I'll wait ' "said William.

He found himself telling her of long-buried incidents in his past,
things he had barely discussed even with Matthew, his respect for his
father, his love for his mother, his blind hatred of Henry Osborne, his
ambitions for Kane and Cabot.  She, in turn, told him of her childhood
in Boston, her schooldays in Virginia, and of her early marriage to Max
Brookes.

Five days later when she said goodbye to him at the station, he kissed
her for the first time.

"Kate, I'm going to say something very presumptuous.  I hope one day
you'll feel more for me than you felt for Max.. "I'm beginning to feel
that way already," she said quietly.

William looked at her steadily.. "Don't stay out of my life for another
nine months."

"I can't - you've sold my house."

On the way back to Boston, feeling more settled and happy than at any
time since before his father's death, William drafted a report on the
sale of Buckhurst Park, his mind returning continually to Kate and the
past five days.  just before the train drew into the South Station, he
scribbled a quick note in his neat but illegible handwriting.

Kate, I find I am missing you already.  And it's only a few hours.
Please write and let me know when you will be coming to Boston.
Meanwhile I shall be getting back to the bank's business and find I can
put you out of my mind for quite long periods (i.e.  10 + 5 minutes) at
a stretch consecutively.

Love William He had just dropped the envelope into the mail box on
Charles Street when all thoughts of Kate were driven from his mind by
the cry of a newsboy.

"Wall Street collapse."

William seized a copy of the paper and scanned the lead story rapidly.
The market had plummeted overnight; some financiers viewed it as nothing
more than a readjustment; William saw it as the beginning of the
landslide that he had been predicting for months.  He hurried to the
bank and went straight to the chairman's office.

"I'm sure the market will steady up in the long run," said Alan Lloyd
soothingly.

"Never," said William.. "The market is overloaded.  Overloaded with
small investors who thought they were in for a quick profit and are
certain to run for their lives now.  Don't you see the balloon is about
to burst?  I'm going to sell everything.  By the end of the year, the
bottom will have dropped out of this market, and I did warn you in
February, Alan."

"I still don't agree with you, William, but I'll call a full board
meeting for tomorrow, so that we can discuss your \,,Iews in more
detail."

"Thank you," said William.  He returned to his office and picked up the
interoffice phone.

"Alan, I forgot to tell you.  I've met the girl I'm going to marry."

"Does she know yet?" asked Alan.

"No,"said William.

"I see," said Alan.. "Then your marriage will closely resemble your
banking career, William.  Anyone directly involved will be informed only
after you've made your decision."

William laughed, picked up the other phone, and immediately placed his
own major stock holdings on the market and went into cash.  Tony Simmons
had just come in, and stood at the open door watching William, thinking
he had gone quite mad.

"You could lose your shirt overnight dumping all those shares with the
market in its present state."

"I'll lose a lot more if I hold on to them," replied William.

The loss he was to make in the following week, over one million dollars,
would have staggered a less confident man.

At the board meeting the next day he also lost, by eight votes to six,
his proposal to liquidate the bank's stocks; Tony Simmons convinced the
board that it would be irresponsible not to hold out for a little
longer.  The only small victory William notched up was to persuade his
fellow directors that the bank should no longer be a buyer.

The market rose a little that day, which gave William the opportunity to
sell some more of his own stock.  By the end of the week, when the index
had risen steadily for four days in a row, William began to wonder if he
had been over-reacting, but all his past training and instinct told him
that he had made the right decision.  Alan Lloyd said nothing; the money
William was losing was not his, and he was looking forward to a quiet
retirement.

On 22 October the market suffered more heavy losses and William again
begged Alan Lloyd to get out while there was still a chance.  This time
Alan listened and allowed William to place a sell order on some of the
banles major stocks.

The following day, the market fell again in an avalanche of selling, and
it mattered little what holdings the bank tried to dispose of because
there were no longer any buyers.  The dumping of stock turned into a
stampede, as every small investor in America put in a sell bid to try to
get out from under.  Such was the panic that the ticker tape could not
keep pace with the transactions.  Only when the Exchange opened in the
morning, after the clerks had worked all night, did traders know for a
fact how much they had lost the day before.

Alan Lloyd had a phone conversation with J.  P.  Morgan, and agreed that
Kane and Cabot should join a group of banks who would try to shore up
the national collapse in major stocks.  William did not disapprove of
this policy, on the grounds that if there had to be a group effort, Kane
and Cabot should be responsibly involved in the action.  And, of course,
if it worked, all the banks would be better off.  Richard Whitney, the
vice-president of the New York Stock Exchange and the representative of
the group Morgan had put together, went on the floor of the New York
Stock Exchange and purchased thirty million dollars worth of blue-chip
stocks the next day.  The market began to hold.

Twelve llion, eight hundred and ninety-four thousand, six hundred and
fifty shares were traded that day, and for the next two days the market
held steady.  Everyone, from President Hoover to the runners in the
brokerage houses, believed that the worst was behind them.

William had sold nearly all of his private stock and his personal loss
was proportionately far smaller than the bank's, which had dropped over
three million dollars in four days; even Tony Simmons had taken to
following all of William's suggestions.  On 29 October, Black Tuesday as
the day came to be known, the market fell again.  Sixteen million, six
hundred and ten thousand and thirty shares were traded.  Banks all over
the country knew that the truth was that they were now insolvent.  If
every one of their customers demanded cash - or if they in turn tried to
call in all their loans - the whole banking system would collapse around
their ears.

A board meeting held on 9 November opened with one ininut4es silence in
memory of John J.  Riordan, president of the County Trust, and a
director of Kane and Cabot, who had shot himself to death in his own
home.  It was the eleventh suicide in Boston banking circles in two
weeks; the dead man had been a close personal friend of Alan Lloyd's.
The chairman went on to announce that Kane and Cabot bad themselves lost
nearly four million dollars, the Morgan Group had failed in its effort
to unite, and it was now expected that every bank should act in its own
best interests.  Nearly all the bank's small investors had gone under,
and most of the larger ones were having impossible cash problemsAngry
mobs had already gathered outside banks in New York and the elderly
guards had had to be supplemented with Pinkertons.  Another week like
this, said Alan, and every one of us will be wiped out.  He offered his
resignation, but the directors would not hear of it.  His position was
no different from that of any other chairman of a major bank in America.
Tony Simmons also offered his resignation, but once again his fellow
directors would not consider it.  Tony was no longer destined to take
Alan Lloyd's place so William kept a magnanimous silence.

As a compromise, Simmons was sent to London to take charge of overseas
investments.  Out of harm's way, thought William, who now found himself
appointed Director of Finance, in charge of all the bank's investments.
Immediately he invited Matthew Lester to join him as his number two.
This time Alan Lloyd didn't even raise an eyebrow.

Matthew agreed to join William early in the New Year, which was as soon
as his father could release him.  They hadn't been without their own
problems.  William, therefore, ran the investment department on his own,
until Matthew's arrival.  The winter of 1929 turned out to be a
depressing period for William, as he watched small firms and large firms
alike, run by friends he had known all his life, go under.. "For some
time he even wondered if the bank itself could survive.

At Christmas William s ent a  week in Florida with Kate, helping her
pack her belongings in tea chests ready for returning to Boston.. "The
ones Kane and Cabot It, t me keep," she teased.

William's Christmas presents filled another tea chest and Kate felt
quite guilty about his generosity.. "What can a petiniless widow hope to
give you in return?" she mocked.  William responded by bundling her into
the remaining tea chest and labelling i. "William's present'.

.  He returned to Boston in high spirits, and hoped his stay with Kate
augured the start of a better year.  He settled down into Tony Simmons'
old office to read the morning mail, knowing he would have to preside
over the usual two or three liquidation meetings scheduled for that
week.  He asked his secretary whom he was to see first.

"I'm afraid it's another bankruptcy, Mr.  Kane."

"Oh, yes, I remember the case," said William.  The name had meant
nothing to him.. "I read over the file last night.  A most unfortunate
affair.  What time is he due?"

"At ten o'clock, but the gentleman is already in the lobby waiting for
you, sir."

"Right, said William, "please send him in.  Let's get it over with."

William opened his file again to remind himself quickly of the salient
facts.  There was a line drawn through the name of the original client,
a Mr.  Davis Leroy.  It had been replaced by that of the morning's
visitor, Mr.  Abel Rosnovski.

William vividly remembered the last conversation he had had with Mr.
Rosnovski, and was already regretting it.

It took Abel about three months to appreciate the full extent of the
problems facing the Richmond Continental and why the hotel went on
losing so much money.  The simple conclusion he came to after twelve
weeks of keeping his eyes wide open, while at the same time allowing the
rest of the staff to believe that he was half asleep, was that the
hotel's profits are being stolen.  The Richmond staff was working a
collusive system on a scale which even Abel had not previously come
across.  The system did not, however, take into account a new assistant
manager who had, in the past, had to steal bread from the Russians to
stay alive.  Abel's first problem was not to let anybody know the extent
of his discoveries until he had a chance to look into every part of the
hotel.  It didt take him long to figure out that each department had
perfected its own system for stealing.

Deception started at the front desk where the clerks were registering
only eight out of every ten guests and pocketing the cash payments from
the remaining two for themselves.  The routine they were using was a
simple one; anyone who had tried it at the Plaza in New York would have
been discovered in a few minutes and fired.  The head desk clerk would
choose an elderly couple, who had booked in from another state for only
one night.  He would then discreetly make sure they had no business
connections in the city, and simply fail to register them.  If they paid
cash the following morning, the money was pocketed and, provided they
had not signed the register, there was no record of the guests ever
having been in the hotel.  Abel had long thought that all hotels should
automatically have to register every guest.  They were already doing so
at the Plaza.

In the dining room, the system had been refined.  Of course, the cash
payments of any casual guest for lunch or dinner were already being
taken.  Abel had expected that, but it took him a little longer to check
through the restaurant bills and establish that the front desk was
working with the dining room staff to ensure that there were no
restaurant bills for those guests whom they had already chosen not to
register.  Over and above that there was a steady trail of fictitious
breakages and repairs, missing equipment, disappearing food, lost bed
linen, and even an occasional mattress had gone astray.  After checking
every department thoroughly and keeping his ears and eyes open, Abel
concluded that over half of the Richmond's staff were involved in the
conspiracy, and that no one department had a completely clean record.

When he had first come to the Richmond, Abel had wondered why the
manager, Desmond Pacey, hadn't noticed what had been going on under his
nose a long time before.  He wrongly assumed the reason was that the man
was lazy and could not be bothered to follow up complaints.  Even Abel
was slow to catch on to the fact that the lazy manager was the
mastermind behind the entire operation, and the reason it worked so
well.  Pacey had worked for the Richmond group for over thirty years.
There was not a single hotel in the group in which he had not held a
senior position at one time or another, which made Abel fearful for the
solvency of the other hotels.  Moreover, Desmond Pacey was a personal
friend of the hotels' owner, Davis Leroy.  The Chicago Richmond was
losing over thirty thousand dollars a year, a situation Abel knew could
be redeemed overnight by firing half the staff, starting with Desmond
Pacey.  That posed a problem, because Davis Leroy had rarely fired
anyone in thirty years.  He simply tolerated the problems, hoping that
in time they would go away.  As far as Abel could see, the Richmond
hotel staff went on stealing the hotel blind until they reluctantly
retired.

Abel knew that the only way he could reverse the hotel's fortunes was to
have a show-down with Davis Leroy, and to that end, early in 1928, he
boarded the express train from Illinois Central to St.  Louis and the
Missouri Pacific to Dallas.  Under his arm was a two-hundred page report
which he had taken three months to compile in his small room in the
hotel annex.  By the time he had finished reading through the mass of
evidence, Davis Leroy sat staring at him in dismay.

"These people are my friends," were his first words as he closed the
dossier.. "Some of them have been with me for thirty years.  Hell,
there's always been a little fiddling around in this business, but now
you tell me they've been robbing me blind behind my back?"

"Some of them, I should think, for all of those thirty years," said
Abel.

"What in hell's name am I going to do about it?" said Leroy.

"I can stop the rot if you remove Desmond Pacey and give me carte
blanche to sack anyone who has been involved in the thefts, starting
tomorrow."

"Well now, Abel, I wish the problem was as simple as that.. "The problem
is just that simple," said Abel.

"And if you won't let me deal with the culprits, you can have my
resignation as of this minute, because I have no interest in being a
part of the most corruptly run hotel in America."

"Couldn't we just demote Desmond Pacey to assistant manager?  Then I
could make you manager and the problem would come under your control."

"Never," replied Abel.. "Pacey has over two years to go and has a firm
hold over the entire Richmond staff, so that by the time I get him in
line you'll be dead or bankrupt, or both, as I suspect all of your other
hotels are being run in the same cavalier fashion.  If you want the
trend reversed in Chicago, you'll have to make a firm decision about
Pacey right now, or you can go to the wall on your own.  Take it or
leave it."

"Us Texans have a reputation for speaking our mind, Abel but we're sure
not in your class.  Okay, okay, I'll give you the authority.  As of this
minute congratulations.  You're the new manager of the Chicago Richmond.
Wait till Al Capone hears you've arrived in Chicago; he'll join me down
here in the peace and quiet of the great South-west.

Abel, my boy," continued Leroy, standing up and slapping his new manager
on the shoulder, "don't think I'm ungrateful.  You've done a great job
in Chicago, and from now on I shall look upon you as my right-hand man.
To be honest with you Abel, I have been doing so well on the Stock
Exchange I haven't even noticed the losses, so thank God I have one
honest friend.  Why don't you stay overnight and have a bite to eat?"
"I'd be delighted to join you, Mr.  Leroy, but I want to spend the night
at the Dallas Richmond for personal reasons."

"You're not going to let anyone off the hook, are you, Abel?"

"Not if I can help it."

That evening Davis Leroy gave Abel a sumptuous meal and a little too
much whisky which he insisted was no more than Southern hospitality.  He
also admitted to Abel that he was looking for someone to run the
Richmond Group so that he could take things a little easier.

"Are you sure you want a dumb Polack?" slurred Abel after one too many
drinks.

"Abel, it's me who's been dumb.  If you hadn't proved to be so reliable
in smoking out those thieves, I might have gone under.  But now that I
know the truth, we'll lick them together, and I'm going to give you the
chance to put the Richmond Group back on the map."

Abel shakily raised his glass.. "I'll drink to that - and to a long and
successful partnership."

"Go get'cm, boy."

Abel spent the night at the Dallas Richmond, giving a false name and
pointedly telling the desk clerk that he would only be staying one
night.  In the morning when he observed the hotel's only copy of the
receipt for his cash payment disappearing into the wastepaper basket,
Abel had his suspicions confirmed.  The problem was not Ch-icago's
alone.

He decided he would have to get Chicago straightened out first; the rest
of the group's finaglings would have to wait until later.  He made one
call to Davis Leroy to warn him that the disease had spread to the whole
group.

Abel travelled back the way he had come.  The Mississippi valley lay
sullenly alongside the train window, devastated by the floods of the
previous year.  Abel thought about the devastation he was going to cause
when he returned to the Chicago Richmond.

When he arrived, there was no night porter on duty and only one clerk
could be found.  He decided to let them all have a good night's rest
before he bade them farewell.  A young bellboy opened the front door for
him as he made his way back to the annex.

"Have a good trip, Mr.  Rosnovski?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you.  How have things been here?"

"Oh, very quiet."

You may find it even quieter this time tomorrow, thought Abel, when
you're the only member of the staff left.

Abel unpacked and called room service to order a light meal, which took
over an hour to arrive.  When he had fill[shed his coffee, he undressed
and stood in a cold shower, going over his plan for the following day.
He had picked a good time of year for his massacre, It was early
February and the hotel had only about a twenty-five percent occupancy,
and Abel was confident that he could run the Richmond with about half
its present staff.  He climbed into bed ' threw the pillow on the floor
and slept, like his unsuspecting staff, soundly.

Desmond Pacey, known to every one at the Richmond as Lazy Pacey, was
sixty-two years old.  He was considerably overweight and it made him
rather slow of movement on his short legs.  Desmond Pacey had seen
seven, or was it eight, assistant managers come and go in the Richmond.
Some got 1.reedy and wanted more of his take; some.  just couldt
understand how it worked.  The Polack, he decided, wasn't turning out to
be any brighter than the others.  He hummed to himself as he walked
slowly towards Abel's office for their daily ten o'clock meeting.  It
was seventeen minutes past ten.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," said the manager, not sounding sorry
at all.

Abel made no comment.

"I was held up with something at reception, you know how it is."

Abel knew exactly how it was at reception.

He slowly opened the drawer of the desk in front of him and laid out
forty crumpled hotel bills, some of them in four or five pieces, bills
that he had recovered from wastepaper baskets and ashtrays, bills for
those guests who had paid cash and who had never been registered.  He
watched the fat little manager trying to work out what they were, upside
down.

Desmond Pacey couldn't quite fathom it.  Not that he cared that much.
Nothing for him to worry about.  If the stupid Polack had caught on to
the system, he could either take his cut or leave.  Pacey was wondering
what percentage he would have to give him.  Perhaps a nice room in the
hotel would keep him quiet for the time being.

"You're fired, Mr.  Pacey, and I want you off the premises within the
hour."

Desmond Pacey didn't actually take in the words, because he couldn't
believe them.

"What was that you said?  I don't think I heard you right."

"You did," said Abel.. "You're fired."

"You can't fire me.  I'm the manager and I've been with the Richmond
Group for over thirty years.  If there's any firing to be done, I'll do
it.  Who in God's name do you think you are ?"

"I am the new manager."

"You're what?"

"The new manager," Abel repeated.. "Mr.  Leroy appointed me yesterday
and I have just fired you, Mr.  Pacey.. "What for?"

"For larceny on a grand scale."

Abel turned the bills around so that the bespectacled man could see them
all properly.

"Every one of these guests paid their bill, but not one penny of the
money reached the Richmond account, and they all have one thing in
common - your signature is on them." Tou couldn't prove anything in a
hundred years.. "I know," said Abel.. "You've been running a good
system.  Well, you can go and run that system somewhere else because
your luck's run out here.  There is an old Polish saying, Mr.  Pacey:
the pitcher carries water only until the handle breaks.

The handle has just broken and you're fired."

"You don't have the authority to fire me," said Pacey.  Sweat peppered
out on his forehead despite the coldness of the February day.. "Davis
Leroy is a close personal friend of mine.  He's the only man who can
fire me.  You only came out from New York three months ago.  He wouldn't
even listen to you once I had spoken to him.  I could get you thrown out
of this hotel with one phone call.. "Go ahead,"said Abel.

He picked up the telephone and asked the operator to get Davis Leroy in
Dallas.  The two men waited, staring at each other.  The sweat had now
trickled down to the tip of Pacey's nose.  For a second Abel wondered if
his new em loyer would hold firm.      p

"Good morning, Mr.  Leroy.  It's Abel Rosnovski calling from Chicago.
I've just fired Desmond Pacey, and he wants a word with you."

Shakily, Pacey took the telephone, He listened for only a few moments.

"But, Davis, I ...  What could I do ...  ?  I swear to you it isn't true
...  There must be some mistake."

Abel heard the line click.

"One hour, Mr.  Pacey," said Abel, "or I'll hand over these bills to the
Chicago Police Department."

"Now wait a moment," Pacey said.. "Don't act so hasty." His tone and
attitude had changed abruptly.. "We could bring you in on the whole
operation, you could make a very steady little income if we ran this
hotel together, and no one would be any the wiser.  The money would be
far more than you're making as assistant manager and we all know Davis
can afford the losses.  .  ."

"I'm not the assistant manager any longer, Mr.  Pacey.  I'm the manager
so g I et out before I throw you out."

"You fucking Polack," said the ex-manager, realising he had played his
last card and lost.. "You'd better keep your eyes open because you're
going to be brought down to size."

Pacey left.  By lunch he had been joined on the street by the head
waiter, head chef, senior housekeeper, chief desk clerk, head porter,
and seventeen other members of the Richmond staff whom Abel felt were
past redemption.

In the afternoon, he called a meeting of the remainder of the
eniployees, explained to them in detail why what he had done had been
necessary, and assured them that their jobs were not in any danger.

"But if I can find one," said Abel. "I repeat, one dollar misplaced, the
person involved will be sacked without references there and then.  Am I
understood?"

No one spoke.

Several other members of the staff left the Richmond during the next few
weeks when they realised that Abel did not intend to continue Desmond
Pacey's system on his own behalf, and they were quickly replaced.

By the end of March, Abel had invited four employees from the Plaza to
join him at the Richmond.  They had three things in common: they were
young, ambitious and honest.  Within six months, only thirty-seven of
the original staff of one hundred and ten were still employed at the
Richmond.  At the end of the first year, Abel cracked a large bottle of
champagne with Davis Leroy to celebrate the year's figures for the
Chicago Richmond.  They had shown a profit of three thousand, four
hundred and eighty-six dollars.  Small, but the first profit the hotel
had shown in the thirty years of its existence.  Abel was projecting a
profit of over twenty-five thousand dollars in 1929.

Davis Leroy was mightily impressed.  He visited Chicago once a month and
began to rely heavily on Abel's judgment.  He even came round to the
point of admitting that what had been true of the Chicago Richmond might
well be true of the other hotels in the group.  Abel wanted to see the
Chicago hotel running smoothly on its new lines before he considered
tackling the others; Leroy agreed but talked of a partnership for Abel
if he could do for the others what he had done with Chicago.

They started going to baseball and the races together whenever Davis was
in Chicago.  On one occasion, when Davis had lost seven hundred dollars
without getting close in any of the six races, he threw up his arms in
disgust and said. "Why do I bother with horses, Abel?  You're the best
bet I've ever made."

Melanie Leroy always dined with her father on these visits.  Cool,
pretty, with a slim figure and long legs which attracted many a stare
from the hotel guests, she treated Abel with a slight degree of hauteur
which gave him no encouragement for the aspirations he had begun to
formulate for her, nor did she invite him to substitut. "Melanie' for
"Miss Leroy' until he discovered he was the holder of an economics
degree from Columbia and knew more about discounted cash flow than she
did herself.  After that, she softened a little and came from time to
time to dine with Abel alone in the hotel and seek assistance with the
work she was doing for her liberal arts degree at the University of
Chicago.  Emboldened, he occasionally escorted her to concerts and the
theatre, and began to feel a proprietorial jealousy whenever she brought
other men to dine at the hotel, though she never came with the same
escort twice.

So greatly had the hotel cuisine improved under Abel's iron fist that
people who had lived in Chicago for thirty years and never realised the
place existed were making gastronomic outings every Saturday evening.
Abel redecorated the whole hotel for the first time in twenty years and
put the staff into smart new green and gold uniforms.  One guest, who
had stayed at the Richmond for a week every year, actually retreated
back out of the front door on arrival, because he thought he had walked
into the wrong establishment.  When Al Capone booked a dinner party for
sixteen in a private room to celebrate his thirtieth birthday, Abel knew
he had arrived.

Abel's personal wealth grew during this period, while the stock market
flourished.  Having left the Plaza with eight thousand dollars, eighteen
months before, his brokerage account now stood at over thirty thousand.
He was confident that the market would continue to rise, and so he
always reinvested his profits.  His personal requirements were still
fairly modest.  He had acquired two new suits and his first pair of
brown shoes.  He still had his rooms and food provided by the hotel and
few out-of-pocket expenses.  There seemed to be nothing but a bright
future ahead of him.

The Continental Trust had handled the Richmond account for over thirty
years, so Abel had transferred his own account to them when he first
came to Chicago.  Every day he would go to the bank and deposit the
hotel's previous day's receipts.  He was taken by surprise one Friday
morning by a message that the man-ager was asking to see him.  He knew
his personal account was never overdrawn, so he presumed the meeting
must have something to do with the Richmond.  The bank could hardly be
about to complain that the hotel's account was solvent for the first
time in thirty years.  A junior clerk guided Abel through a tangle of
corridors until he reached a handsome wooden door.  A gentle knock and
he was ushered in to meet the manager.

"My name is Curtis Fenton," said the man behind the desk, offering Abel
his hand before motioning him into a green leather button seat.  He was
a neat, rotund man who wore half-moon spectacles and an impeccable white
collar and black tie to go with his three piece banker's suit.

"Thank you," said Abel nervously.

The circumstances brought back to him memories of the past, memories he
associated only with the fear of being uncertain what was going to
happen next.

"I would have invited you to lunch, Mr.  Rosnovski Abel's heartbeat
steadied a little.  He was only too aware that bank managers do not
dispense free meals when they have unpleasant messages to deliver.

but something has arisen that require,.  immediate mond Group stock. She
has offered thi -lvuv stock.  one rias offered iej's olding to  hell,
hrntpr NSr L;F6, ;jvjfd iim- es in The past ut he has brotner, mr.
i-)avis shown absolutely no interest in purchasing Miss Amy's shares.  I
can understand Mr.  Leroy's reasoning.  He already owns seventy-five
percent of the company, and I dare say he feels he has no need to worry
about the other twenty-five percent, which incidentally, was a legacy
from their late father.  However, Miss Amy Leroy is still keen to
dispose of her stock as it has never paid a dividend."

Abel was not surprised to hear that.

4   .  .  ted that he has no m bri.

ection to her selling .  the stock, and she feels that at her age she
would rather Ijave a little cash to spend now than wait in the hope that
the Group may one day prove profitable.  With that in mind, Mr.    I
would apprise you of the situation in losnovski, I thought case You
might know someone with an interest in the hotel trade and, therefore,
in the purchase of my client's shares.. "How much is Miss Leroy hoping
to realise for her stock?"

asked Abel.

"Oh, I feel she'd be happy to let them go for as little as sixty-five
thousand dollars."

"Sixty-five thousand dollars is a rather high price for a stock that has
never paid a dividend," said Abel, cand has no hope of doing so for some
years to come."

"Ah," said Curtis Fenton, "but you must remember that the value of the
eleven hotels should also be taken into consideration."

"But control of the company would still remain in the hands of Mr.
Leroy, which makes Miss Leroy's twenty-five percent holding nothing but
pieces of paper."

"Come, come, Mr.  Rosnovski, twenty-five percent of eleven hotels would
be a very valuable holding for only sixty-five thousand dollars."

"NotaE!nnyg   fl

" il A

a penny more, Mr.  Fenton." fr"xr@r- &rv.t h;s gether, pleased with his
appraisal of Abel.

"In the circumstances) I can only ask Miss Amy what her attitude would
be to such an offer.  I will contact you again as soon as she has
instructed me."   rt was beat-.  After leaving Curtis Fentos office,
Abers hea ing as fast as when he had entered.  He hurried back to the
hotel to double check on his own personal holdings.  His brokerage
account stood at thirty-three thousand one hundred and twelve dollars,
and his personal account at three thousand and eight dollars.  Abel then
tried to carry out a normal day's work.  He found it hard to concentrate
for ondering how Miss Amy Leroy would react to the bid andwdaydreaming
about what he would do if he held a twenty-five percent interest in the
Richmond Group.

He hesitated before informing Davis Leroy of his bid, fearful that the
genial Texan might view his ambitions as a threat.  But after a couple
of days during which he considered the matter carefully, he decided the
fairest thing to do would be to call Davis Leroy and acquaint him with
his intentions.

"I want you to know why I am doing this, Mr.  Leroy.  I believe the
Richmond Group has a great future, and you can be sure that I shall work
all the harder for you if I know my own money is also involved." He
paused.. "But if you want to take up that twenty-five percent yourself,
I shall naturally understand."

To his surprise, the escape ladder was not grasped.

"Well, see here, Abel, if you have that much confidence in the group, go
ahead, son, and buy Amy out.  I'd be proud to have you for a partner.
You've earned it.  By the way, I'll be up next week for the Red Cubs
game.  See you then."

Abel was jubilant.. "Thank you, Davis, you'll never have cause to regret
your decision."

"I'm sure I won't, pardner."

Abel returned to the bank a week later.  This time, it was he who asked
to see the manager.  Once again he sat in the green leather button
chair, and waited for Mr.  Fenton to speak.

"I am surprised to find," began Curtis Fenton not looking at all
surprised, "that Miss Leroy will accept the bid of forty thousand
dollars for her twenty-five percent holding in the Richmond Group." He
paused before looking up at Abel.. "As l have now secured her agreement,
I must ask if you are in a position to disclose your buyer?"

"Yes' said Abel confidently.. "I will be the principal.. "I see, Mr.
Rosnovski,"again not showing any surprise."May I ask how you propose to
find the forty thousand dollars?"

"I shall liquidate my stock holdi and release the are cash in my
personal account, which will leave me short of about four thousand
dollars.  I hoped that you would be willing to loan me that sum, as you
are so confident that the Richmond Group stock is undervalued.  In any
case, the four thousand dollars probably represents nothing more than
the bank's commission on the deal."

Curtis Fenton blinked and frowned.  Gentlemen did not make that sort of
remark in his office: it stung all the more because Abel had the sum
exactly right.. "Will you give me a little more time to consider your
proposal., Mr. Rosnovski, and then I will come back to you?"

"If you wait long enough, I won't need your loan," said Abel.. "My other
investments will soon be worth the full forty thousand, the way the
market is moving at the moment." Abel had to wait a further week to be
told that Continental Trust was willing to back him.  He immediately
cleared both his accounts and borrowed a little under four thousand
dollars to make up the shortfall on the forty thousand.

Within six months, Abel had paid off his four thousand loan by careful
buying and selling of stock from March to August 1929, some of the best
days the stock market was ever to know.

By September, both his accounts were slightly ahead again - he even had
enough to buy a new Buick - while he was now the owner of twenty-five
percent of the Richmond Group of hotels.  Abel was pleased to have
acquired such a firm holding in Davis Leroy's empire.  It gave him the
confidence to pursue his daughter and the other seventy-five percent.

Early in October, he invited Melanie to a programme of Mozart at the
Chicago Symphony Hall.  Donning his smartest suit, which only emphasised
he was gaining some weight, and wearing his first silk tie, he felt
confident as he glanced in the mirror that the evening was to be a
success.  After the concert was over Abel avoided the Richmond,
excellp-nt though its food had become, and took Melanie to The Loop for
dinner.  He was particularly careful to talk only of econ oniics and
politics, two subjects about which he knew she was obliged to accept he
was greatly the more knowledgeable.  Finally, he asked her back for a
drink in his rooms.  It was the first time she had seen them, and she
was both piqued and surprised by their smartness.

Abel poured the Coca-Cola which she requested, dropped two cubes of ice
into the bubbly liquid and gained confidence from the smile he was
rewarded with as he passed her the glass.  He couldn't help staring at
her slim, crossed legs for more than a polite second.  He poured himself
a bourbon.

"Thank you, Abel, for a wonderful evening."

He sat down beside her and svarled the drink in his glass reflectively.
"For many years, I heard no music.  When I did, Mozart spoke to my heart
as no other composer has done."

"How very ddle-European you sound sometimes, Abel." She pulled the edge
of her silk dress, which Abel was sitting on, free.. "Who would have
thought a hotel manager would give a damn for Mozart?"

"One of my ancestors, the first Baron Rosnovski," said Abel, "once met
the maestro, and he became a close friend of the family so I have always
felt he was part of my life."

Melanie's smile was unfathomable.  Abel leaned sideways and kissed her
cheek just above the car, where her fair hair was drawn back from her
face.  She continued the convcrsation without giving the slightest
indication that she had even been aware of his action.

"Frederick Stock captured the mood of the third movement to perfection,
wouldn't you say?"

Abel tried the kiss again.  This time she turned her face towards him
and allowed herself to be kissed on the lips.

Then she drew away.

"I think I ought to be getting back to the university.. "But you've only
just arrived," said Abel, dismayed.. "Yes, I know, but I have to be up
early in the morning.  I have a heavy day ahead of me."

Abel kissed her again.  She fell back on the couch and Abel tried to
move his hand on to her breast.  She broke quickly from the kiss and
pushed him away.

(I must be going, Abel," she insisted.

"Oh, come on," he said, "you don't have to go yet," and once again he
tried to kiss her.

This time she stopped him by pushing him away more firmly.

"Abel, what do you think you are doing?  Because you give me the
occasional meal and take me to a concert, doesn't mean you have the
right to maul me."

"But we've been going out together for months," said Abel.

"I didn't think you would mind."

her for months, Abel.  I

"We have not been going out toget eat with you occasionally in my
father's dining room, but you should not construe that to mean we have
been going out together for months."

"I'm sorry," said Abel.. "The last thing I wanted you to think was that
I was mauling you.  I only wanted to touch you.      me," she said,
'unless

"I would never allow a man to touch I was going to marry him." ibut I
want to marry you," said Abel quietly.

Melanie burst out laughing.

"What's so funny about that?" Abel asked, reddening.

"Don't be silly, Abel, I could never marry you.. "Why not?" demanded
Abel, shocked by the vehemence in her voice.

"It would never do for a Southern lady to marry a first generation
Polish immigrant," she replied, sitting up very straight and pushing her
silk dress back into place.

"But I am a Baron," said Abel, a little haughtily.

Melanie burst out laughing again.. "You don't think anybody believes
that, do you Abel?  Don't you realise the whole staff laughs behind your
back whenever you mention your title ?"

He was stunned, and felt sick, his face draining of its red
embarrassment.. "They all laugh at me behind my back?" His slight accent
sounded more pronounced.

"Yes," she said.. "Surely you know what your nickname in the hotel is?
The Chicago Baron."

Abel was speechless.

"Now don't be silly and get all self-conscious about it.  I think you've
done a wonderful job for Daddy, and I know he admires you, but I could
never marry you."

Abel sat quietly.. "I could never marry you," he repeated.

"Of course not.  Daddy likes you, but he would never agree to having you
as a son-in-law."

"I'm sorry to have offended you," said Abel.

"You haven't, Abel.  I'm flattered.  Now let's forget you ever mentioned
the subject.  Perhaps you would be kind enough to take me home?"

She rose and strode towards the door, while Abel remained seated, still
stunned.  Somehow he managed to push himself up slowly and help Melanie
on with her cloak.  He became conscious of his limp as they walked along
the corridor together.  They went down in the lift and he took her home
in a cab : neither spoke.  While the taxi waited, he accompanied her to
the front gate of her dormitory.  He kissed her hand.

"I do hope this doesn't mean we can't still be friends," said Melanie.

"Of course not."

"Thank you for taking me to the concert, Abel.  I'm sure you'll have no
trouble in finding a nice Polish girl to marry you.  Good night."

"Goodbye," said Abel.

Abel did not think there would be any real trouble on the New York Stock
market until one of his guests asked if he might settle his hotel bill
with stock.  Abel held only a small amount of stock himself since nearly
all his money was tied up in the Richmond Group, but he took his
broker's advice and sold off his remaining shares at a small loss,
relieved that the bulk of his savings was secure in biicks and mortar.
He had not taken as close an interest in the dayto-day movement of the
Dow-Jones as he would have if all his capital had still been in the
market.

The hotel did well in the first part of the year, and Abel considered he
was set fair to achieve his profit forecast of over twenty-five thousand
dollars for 1929, and kept Davis Q6,i Leroy in constant touch with the
way things were turning out.  But when the crash came in October the
hotel was half empty.  Abel placed a call through to Davis Leroy on
Black Tuesday.  The Texan sounded depressed and preoccupied and would
not be drawn into making decisions about the laying off of hotel staff
which Abel now considered urgent.

"Stick with it, Abel," he said.. "I'll come up next week and we'll sort
it out together then - or we'll try to."

Abel did not like the ring of the last phrase.. "What's the problem,
Davis?  Is it anything I can help with?"

"Not for the time being."

Abel remained puzzled.. "Why don't you just give me the authority to get
on with it, and I can brief you when you come up next week?"

"It's not quite as easy as that, Abel.  I didn't want to discuss my
problems over the phone, but the bank is giving me a little trouble over
my losses in the stock market, and they are threatening to make me sell
the hotels if I can't raise enough money to cover my debts."

Abel went cold.

"Nothing for you to worry about, my boy," continued Davis, sounding
unconvincing.. "I will fill you in on all the details when I come up to
Chicago next week.  I am sure I can fix up something by then."

Abel heard the phone click and could feel his whole body sweating.  His
first reaction was to wonder how he could assist Davis.  He put a call
through to Curtis Fenton and prised out of him the name of the banker
who controlled the Richmond Group, feeling that if he could see him it
might make things easier for his friend.

Abel called Davis several times during the next few days to tell him
that things were going from bad to worse and that decisions must be
made, but he sounded more and more preoccupied and was still unwilling
to make any decision.  When matters started getting out of control, Abel
made a decision.  He asked his secretary to get the banker who
controlled the Richmond Group on the phone.

"Who are you calling, Mr.  Rosnovski?" asked a prirrisounding lady.

Abel looked down at the name on the piece of paper in front of him and
said it firmly.

"I'll put you through."

"Good morning," said an authoritative voice.. "May I help you?"

"I hope so.  My name is Abel Rosnovski," began Abel nervously.. "I am
the manager of the Richmond Chicago and wanted to make an appointment to
see you and discuss the future of the Richmond Group."

"I have no authority to deal with anyone except Mr.  Davis Leroy," said
the clipped accent.

"But I own twenty-five percent of the Richmond Group, said Abel.

"Then no doubt someone will explain to you that until you own fifty-one
percent you are in no position to deal with the bank unles you have the
authority of Mr.  Davis Leroy.. "But he's a close personal friend.  . ."

"I don't doubt that, Mr.  Rosnovski." ...  and I'm trying to help,"

"Has Mr.  Leroy given you the authority to -represent him?"

"No, but.  . ."

"Then I am sorry.  It would be most unprofessional of me to continue
this conversation."

"You couldn't be less helpful, could you?" asked Abel, immediately
regretting his words.

"That is no doubt how you see it, Mr.  Rosnovski.  Good day, sir."

Ob, to hell with you, thought Abel, slamming down the Phone, even more
worried about what he could do next to help Davis.

He didn't have long to find out.

The next evening Abel spotted Melanie in the restaurant, not displaying
her usual well-groomed confidence but looking tired and anxious, and he
nearly asked her if everything was all right.  He decided against
approaching her arid., as he left the dining room to go to his office,
he found Davis Leroy standing alone in the front hall.  He had on the
checked jac-Let that he was wearing the first day he had approached
Al)el at the Plaza.

'is Melanie in the dining room?"

"Yes," said Abel.. "I didn't know you were coming into town today,
Davis.  I'll get the Presidential Suite ready for you immediately."

"Only for one night, Abel, and I'd like to see you in private later."
"Certainly."

Abel didn't like the sound of "in private'.  Had Melanie been
complaining to her father; was that why he had not found it possible to
get a decision out of Davis during the last few days?

Davis Leroy hurried past him into the dining room while Abel went over
to the reception desk to check on whether the suite on floor seventeen
was available.  Half the rooms in the hotel were unoccupied and it came
as no surprise that the Presidential Suite was free.  Abel booked his
employer in and then waited by the reception desk for over an hour.  He
saw Melanie leave, her face blotched as if she had been cryingHer father
followed her out of the dining room a few minutes later.

"Get yourself a bottle of bourbon, Abel - don't tell me we don't have
one - and then join me in my suite."

Abel picked up two bottles of bourbon from his safe and joined Leroy in
the Presidential Suite on the twelfth floor, still wondering if Melanie
had said anything to her father.

"Open the bottle and pour yourself a very large one, Abel," Davis Leroy
instructed.

Once again Abel felt the fear of the unknown.  The palms of his hands
began to sweat.  Surely he was not going to be fired for wanting to
marry the boss's daughter?  He and Leroy had been friends for over a
year now, close friends.  He did not have to wait long to find out what
the unknown was.

"Finish your bourbon,"

Abel put the drink down in one gulp, and Davis Leroy swallowed his.

"Abel, I'm wiped out." He paused, and Poured both of them another drink.
"So is half America, come to think of it," Abel did not speak, partly
because he could not think of what to say.  They sat staring at each
other for several nutes, then after another glass of bourbon, he
managed. "But you still own eleven hotels."

"Used to own,"said Davis Leroy.. "Have to put it in the past tense now,
Abel, I no longer own any of them; the bank took possession of the
freeholds last Thursday."

"But they belong to you, they have been in your family for two
generations," said Abel.

"They were.  They aren't any longer.  Now they belong to a bank. There's
no reason why you shouldn't know the whole truth, Abel; the same thing's
happening to almost everyone in America right now, big or small. About
ten years ago I borrowed two million dollars using the hotels as
collateral and invested the money right across the board in stocks and
bonds, fairly conservatively and in well-established companies.  I built
the capital up to nearly five million, which was one of the reasons the
hotel losses never bothered me too much - they were always tax
deductible against the profit I was making in the market.  Today I
couldn't give those shares away.  We may as well use them as toilet
paper in the eleven hotels.  For the last three weeks I've been selling
as fast as I can, but there are no buyers left.  The bank foreclosed on
my loan last Thursday." Abel couldn't help remembering that it was on a
Thursday when he spoke to the banker.. "Most people who are affected by
the crash have only pieces of paper to cover their loans, but in my case
the bank who backed me has the deeds on the eleven hotels as security
against their original loan.  So when the bottom dropped out, they
immediately took possession of them.  The bastards have let me know that
they intend to sell the group as quickly as possible."

"That's madness.  They'll get nothing for them right now, throw back in
my face.  I went up to their main office gest just that, I explained
about you and told them I put all my time into the group if they would
give backing, but they weren't interested.  They fobbed with some smooth
young puppy who had all the the answers about cash flows, no capital
base and credit tions.  By God, if I ever get back, I'll screw him
person then his bank.

Right now the best thing we can d ourselves uproariously drunk, because
I am finished less, bankrupt."

"Then so am l,"said Abel quietly. "No ' you have a great future ahead of
you, son.  who takes over this group couldn't make a move you.. "You
forget that I own twenty-five percent of the Davis Leroy stared at him.
It was obvious that I had slipped his mind.

"Oh my God, Abel, I hope you didn't put all Y into me., His voice was
becoming thick.

"Every last cent," said Abel.. "But I dot regret Better to lose with a
wise man than win with a f poured himself another bourbon.

The tears were standing in the corners of Davi eyes.. "You know, Abel,
you're the best friend a m ask for.  You knock this hotel into shape,
you invest money, I make you penniless, and you don't even c and then
for good measure my daughter refuses you.

"You didn't mind me asking her?" said Abel, less lo-us than he would
have been without the bourbon csilly little bitch, doesn't know a good
thing whe one.  She wants to marry some horse-breeding from the South
with three Confederate generals in tree or if she does marry a
Northerner, his great has to have come .over on The Mayflower.  If ever
I the had a relative on that boat were ever daughter for you, Abel.  No
one has served me more loyally than you have.  I sure would have been
proud to have you as a member of the family.  You and I would have made
a grett team, but I still reckon you can beat them all by yourself.
You're young, you still have everything ahead of you." At twenty-three
Abel suddenly felt very old.

"Thank you for your confidence, Davis," he said, "and who gives a damn
for the stock market anyway?  You know, you're the best friend I ever
had." The drink was beginning to talk.

Abel poured himself yet another bourbon and threw it down.  Between them
they had finished both bottles by early morning.  When Davis fell asleep
in his chair, Abel managed to stagger down to the tenth floor, undress
and collapse on to his own bed.  He was awakened from a heavy sleep by a
loud banging on the door.  His head was going round and round, but the
banging went on and on, louder and louder.  Somehow he managed to get
himself off the bed and grope his way to the door.  It was a bellboy.

"Come quickly, Mr.  Abel, come quickly," he said as he ran down the
hall.

Abel threw on a dressing gown and slippers and staggered down the
corridor to join the bellboy, who was holding back the lift door for
him.

"Quickly, Mr.  Abel,"he re eated.

p

"What's the hurry?" demanded Abel, his head still going around as the
lift moved slowly down.  Then he recalled the evening's talk.  Maybe the
bank had come to take possession.

"Someone has jumped out the window."

Abel sobered up immediately.. "A guest?"

"Yes, I think so," said the bellboy, "but I'm not sure."

The lift came to a stop at the ground floor.  Abel thrust back the iron
gates and ran out into the street.  The police were already there.  He
wouldn't have recognised the body if it had not been for the checked
jacket.  A policeman was taking down details.  A man in plainclothes
came over to Abel.

"You the manager?"

"Yes, I am."

"Do you have any idea who this man might be?"

"Yes," said Abel, slurring the word.. "His name is Davis Leroy."

"Do you know where he's from or how we contact his next of kin?"

Abel averted his eyes away from the broken body and answered
automatically.

"He's from Dallas and a Miss Melanie Leroy, his daughter, is his next of
kin.  She's a student living out on the Chicago University campus."

"Right, we'll get someone right over to her."

"No, don't do that.  I'll go and see her myself," said Abel.

"Thank you.  It's always better if they don't hear the news from a
stranger."

"What a terrible, unnecessary thing to do," said Abel, his eyes drawn
back to the body of his friend.

"It's the seventh in Chicago today," said the officer flatly as he
closed his little black notebook and strolled over towards the
ambulance.

Abel watched the stretcher bearers remove Davis Leroy's body from the
pavement.  He felt cold, sank to his knees and was violently sick in the
gutter.  Once again he had lost his closest friend.  Maybe if he had
drunk less and thought more, he might have saved him.  He picked himself
up and returned to his room, took a long, cold shower and somehow
managed to get hinuelf dressed.  He ordered some black coffee and then,
reluctantly, went up to the Presidential Suite and unlocked the door.
Other than a couple of empty bourbon bottles, there seemed to be no sign
of the drama that had been enacted a few minutes earlier.  Then he saw
the letters on the side table by a bed which had not been slept in.  The
first was addressed to Melanie, the second to a lawyer in Dallas and the
third to Abel.

He tore his open but could barely read Davis Leroy's last words.

Dear Abel, I'm taking the only way out after the bank's decision.

There is nothing left for me to live for; I am far too old to start
over.  I want you to know I believe you're the one person who might make
something good come out of this terrible mess.

I have made a new will in which I have left you the other seventy-five
percent of the shares in the Richmond Group.  I realise they are
worthless, but the stock will secure your position as the legal owner of
the group.  As you had the guts to buy twenty-five percent with your own
money, you deserve the right to see if you can make some deal with the
bank.  I've left everything else I own, including the house, to Melanie.
Please be the one who tells her.  Don't let it be the police. I would
have been proud to have you as a son-in-law, partner.

Your friend, Davis Abel read the letter again and again and then folded
it neatly and put it into his wallet.

He went over to the university campus later that morning and broke the
news as gently as he could to Melanie.

He sat nervously on the couch, unsure what he could add to the bland
statement of death.  She took it surprisingly well, almost as if she had
known what was going to happen.  No tears in front of Abel - perhaps
later when he wasn't there.

He felt sorry for her for the first time in his life.

Abel returned to the hotel and decided not to have any lunch and asked a
waiter to bring him a tomato juice while he went over his mail.  There
was a letter from Curtis Fenton at the Continental Trust Bank.  It was
obviously going to be a day for letters.  Fenton had received the advice
that a Boston bank called Kane and Cabot had taken over the financial
responsibility of the Richmond Group.  For the time being, business was
to continue as usual, until meetings had been arranged with Mr.  Davis
Leroy to discuss the disposal of all the hotels in the group.  Abel sat
staring at the words, and after a second tomato juice, he drafted a
letter to the chairman of Kane and Cabot, a Mr.  Alan Lloyd.  He
received a reply some five days later asking Abel to attend a meeting in

13oston on 4 January to discuss the liquidation of the group with the
director in charge of bankruptcies.  The interval %would give the bank
enough time to sort out the implications of Mr.  Leroy's sudden and
tragic death.

Sudden and tragic death?"

"And who caused that death?" -.aid Abel aloud in a fury, suddenly
remembering Davis Leioy's own words.. "They fobbed me off with, some
smooth young puppy ...  By God, if I ever get back, I'll screw him
personally and then his bank."

"Don't worry, Davis, I'll finish the job for you," Abel said out loud.

Abel ran the Richmond hotel during the last weeks of that year with
rigid control of his staff and prices and only just managed to keep his
head above water.  He couldn't help wondering what was happening to the
other ten hotels in the group, but he didn't have the time to find out
and it was no longer his responsibility anyway.

On 4 January 1930 Abel Rosnovslzi arrived in Boston.  He took a taxi
from the station to Kane and Cabot and was a few minutes early.  He sat
in the reception room, which was larger and more ornate than any bedroom
in the Chicago Richmond.  He started reading the Wall Street journal.
1930 was going to be a better year, the paper was trying to assure him.
He doubted it.  A prim, middle-aged woman entered the room.

"Mr.  Kane will see you now, Mr.  Rosnovski."

Abel rose and followed her down a long corridor into a small
oak-panelled room with a large leather-topped desk, behind which sat a
tall, good-looking man who must, Abel thought, have been about the same
age as himself.  His eyes were as blue as Abel's.  There was a picture
on the wall behind him of an older man, whom the young man behind the
desk greatly resembled.  I'll bet that's Dad, thought Abel bitterly. You
can be sure he'll survive the collapse; banks always seem to win both
ways.

"My name is William Kane," said the young man, rising and extending his
hand.. "Please have a seat, Mr.  Rosnovski.. "Thank you,"said Abel.

William stared at the little man in his ill-fitting suit, but also noted
the determined eyes.

"Perhaps you will allow me to apprise you of the latest situation as I
see it3' continued the blue-eyed young man.

"Of course."

"Mr.  Leroy's tragic and premature death ...  ' William began, hating
the Pomposity of his words.

Caused by your callousness, thought Abel.

'...  seems to have left you with the immediate responsibility of
running the group until the bank is in a position to find a buyer for
the hotels.  Although one hundred percent of the shares of the group are
now in your name, the property, in the form of eleven hotels, which was
held as collateral for the late Mr.  Leroy's loan of two million
dollars, is legally in our possession.  This leaves you with no
responsibility at all, and if you wish to disassociate yourself from the
entire operation, we will naturally understand."

An insulting thing to suggest, thought William, but it has to be said.

The sort of thing a banker would expect a man to do, walk away fron,
something the moment any problem arose, thought Abel.

William Kane continued.. "Until the two million debt to the bank is
cleared I fear we must consider the estate of the late Mr.  Leroy
insolvent.  We at the bank appreciate your personal involvement with the
group, and we have done nothing about disposing of the hotels until we
had the opportunity to speak to you in person, We thought it possible
you might know of a party interested in the purchase of the property, as
the buildings, the land and the business are obviously a valuable
asset."

"But not valuable enough for you to back me,, said Abel.

He ran his hand wearily through his thick, dark hair.. "How long will
you give me to find a buyer?"

William hesitated for a moment when he saw the silver band around Abel
Rosnovski's wrist.  He had seen that band somewhere before, but he
couldn't think where.. "Thirty days.  You must understand that the bank
is carrying the day-today losses on ten of the eleven hotels.  Only the
Chicago Richmond is making a small profit."

"If you would give me the time and backing, Mr.  Kane, I could turn all
the hotels into profitable concerns.  I know I could," said Abel.. "Just
give me the chance to prove I can do it, sir." Abel found the last word
sticking in his throat.

"So Mr.  Leroy assured the bank when he came to see us last autumn,"
said William.. "But these are hard times.

There's no telling if the hotel trade will pick up, and we are not
hoteliers, Mr.  Rosnovski; we are bankers."

Abel was beginning to lose his temper with the smoothly dressed banker -
'young': Davis had been right. "They'll be hard times all right for the
hotel staff," he said.. "What will they do if you sell off the roofs
from over their heads?

What do you imagine will happen to them?"

"I am afraid they are not our responsibility, Mr.  Rosnovski.  I must
act in the bank's best interests."

"In your own best interests, don't you mean, Mr.  Kane?" said Abel
hotly.

The young man flushed.. "That is an unjust remark, Mr.  Rosnovski, and I
would greatly resent it if I did not understand what you are going
through."

"Too bad you didn't wheel out your understanding in time for Davis
Leroy," said Abel.. "He could have used it.

You killed him, Mr.  Kane, just as surely as if you had pushed him out
of that window yourself, you and your simonpure colleagues, sitting here
on your backsides while we sweat our guts out to be sure you can take a
rake-off when times are good and tread on people when times are bad."

William, too, was becoming angry.  Unlike Abel Rosnovski, he did not
show it.. "This line of discussion is getting us nowhere, Mr. Rosnovski.
I must warn you that if you are unable to find a purchaser for the group
within thirty days, I shall have no choice but to put the hotels up for
auction on the open market."

"You'll be advising me to ask another bank for a loan next," said Abel
sarcastically.. "You know my record, and you won't back me, so where the
hell do you expect me to go from here?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea," replied William.. "That's entirely up to
you.  My board's instructions are simply to wind up the account as
quickly as possible, and that is what I intend to do.  Perhaps you would
be kind enough to contact me no later than 4 Ff--bruary, and let me know
whether you have had any success in finding a buyer.  Good day, Mr.
Rosnovski."

William rose from behind the desk, and again offered his hand.  This
time Abel ignored it and went to the door.

"I thought after our phone conversation, Mr.  Kane, you might feel
embarrassed enough to offer a helping hand.

I was wrong.  You're just a bastard through and through, so when you go
to bed at night, Mr.  Kane, be sure to think about Me.  When you wake up
in the morning, think about me again, because I'll never cease thinking
about my plans for you." William stood frowning at the closed door.  The
silver band still bothered him - where had he seen it before?

His secretary returned.. "What a dreadful little man," she said.

"No, not really," replied William.. "He thinks we killed his business
partner, and now we are disbanding his company without any thought for
his employees, not to mention himself, when he had actually proved to be
very capable.  Mr.  Rosnovski was remarkably polite in the
circumstances, and I must confess I was almost sorry the board felt
unable to back him."He looked up at his secretary.

"Get me Mr.  Cohen on the phone."

Abel arrived back in Chicago on the morning of the following day, still
preoccupied and furious with his treatment at the hands of William Kane.
He didn't catch exactly what the boy was shouting at the corner
news-stand as he hailed a cab and climbed into the back seat.

"The Richmond Hotel, please."

"Are you from the newspapers?" asked the cab driver as he moved out on
to State Street.

"No, what made you ask that?" said Abel.

"Oh, only because you asked for the Richmond.  All the reporters are
there today." Abel couldn't remember any functions scheduled for the
Richmond that would attract the press.

The cab driver continued.. "If youre not a newspaper man, maybe I should
take you to another hotel."

"Why?" asked Abel, even more puzzled.

"Well, you won't have a very good night's sleep if you're booked in
there.  The Richmond has been burned to the ground."

As the cab turned the corner of the block, Abel was faced head on with
the smouldering shell of the Richmond Hotel.  Police cars, fire engines,
charred wood and water flooding the street, He stepped out of the cab
and stared at the scorched remains of the flagship of Davis Leroy's
group.

The Pole is wise when the damage is done, thought Abel, as he clenched
his fist and started banging on his lame leg.  He felt no pain - there
was nothing left to feel.

"You bastards," he shouted aloud.. "I've been lower than this before,
and I'll still beat every one of you.  Germans, RuFsians, Turks, that
bastard Kane, and now this.  Everyone.  I'll beat you all.  Nobody kills
Abel Rosn(>vski."

The assistant manager saw Abel gesticulating by the cab and ran over to
him.  Abel forced himself to be calin.

"Did all the staff and guests get out of the hotel safely?" he asked.

"Yes, thank God.  The hotel was nearly empty, so getting everyone out
was no great problem.  There were one or two minor injuries and burns,
and they are being dealt with at the hospital, but there's nothing for
you to worry about."

"Good, at least that's a relief.  Thank God the hotel was well insured,
over a million if I remember.  We may yet be able to turn this disaster
to our advantage-

"Not if what they are suggesting in the late papers is true.. "What do
you mean?" asked Abel.

"I'd rather you read it for yourself, boss," the assistant manager
replied.

Abel walked over to the news-stand and paid the boy two cents for the
latest edition of the Chicago Tribune.  The banner headline told it all.

RICHMOND HOTEL BLAZE - ARSON SUSPECTED

Abel shook his head incredulously and re-read the headline.

"Can anything else happen?" he muttered.

"Got yourself a problem?" the newsboy asked.

"A little one," said Abel and returned to his assistant manager.

"Who's in charge of the police enquiry?"

"That officer over there leaning on the police car," said the assistant
manager, pointing to a tall, spare man who was going prematurely bald.
"His name is Lieutenant O'Malley."

"It would be," said Abel.. "Now you get the staff into the annex, and
I'll see them all there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.  If anybody
wants me before then, I'll be staying at the Stevens until I get this
thing sorted out."

"Will do, boss."

Abel walked over to Lieutenant O'Malley and introduced himself.

The tall, thin policeman stooped slightly to shake hands with Abel.

"Ah, the long lost ex-manager has returned to his charred remains.. "I
don't find that funny, officer," said Abel.

"I'm sorry," he said.. "It isn't funny.  It's been a long night.  Let's
go and have a drink."

The policeman took Abel by the elbow and guided him across Micl-dgan
Avenue to a cafe on the corner.

Lieutenant O'Malley ordered two milk shakes.

Abel laughed when the white, frothy mixture was put in front of him.
Since he had never had a youth, it was his first milk shake.

"I know.  It's funny, everybody in this city breaks the law drinking
bourbon and beer," said the detective, so someone has to play the game
straight.  In any case, Prohibition isn't going to last for ever, and
then my troubles will begin, because the gangsters are going to discover
I really do like milk shakes."

Abel laughed for a second time.

"Now to your problems, Mr.  Rosnovski.  First I have to tell you, I
don't think you have a snowball's chance in hell of picking up the
insurance on that hotel.  The fire experts have been going over the
remains of the building with a fine tooth-comb and they found the place
was soaked in kerosene.  No attempt to even disguise it.  There were
traces of the stuff all over the basement.  One match and the building
must have gone up like a Roman candle."

"Do you have any idea who is responsible?" asked Abel.

"Let me ask the questions.  Do you have any idea who might bear a grudge
against the hotel or you personally?"

Abel grunted.. "About fifty people, Lieutenant.  I cleared out a real
can of worms when I first arrived here.  I can give you a list, if you
think it might help."

"I think it might, but the way people are talking out there, I may not
need it," said the lieutenant.. "But if you pick up any definite
information, let me know, Mr.  Rosnovski.  You let me know, because I
warn you, you have enemies out there." He pointed into the lling street.

"What do you mean?" asked Abel.

"Someone is saying you did it, because you lost everything in the crash
and needed the insurance money."

Abel leaped off his stool.

"Calm down, calm down.  I know you were in Boston all day and, more
important, you have a reputation in Chicago for building hotels up, not
burning them down.  But someone did burn the Richmond down, and you can
bet your ass I'm going to find out who.  So let's leave it at that for
the moment." He swivelled off his own stool.. "The milk shake's on me,
Mr.  Rosnovski.  I'll expect a favour from you sometime in the future."

He smiled at the girl at the cash desk, admiring her ankles and cursing
the new fashion for long skirts.  He handed her fifty cents.. "Keep the
change, honev."

"A big thank you," the girl replied.

"Nobody appreciates me," said the lieutenant.

Abel laughed for a third time, which he would not have thought possible
an hour before. "By the way," the lieutenant continued as they reached
the door, "the insurance people are looking for you.  I can't remember
the name of the guy, but I guess he'll find you.  Don't hit him.  If he
feels you were involved, who can blame him?  Keep in touch, Mr.
Rosnovski.  I'll be wanting to talk to you again."

Abel watched the lieutenant vanish into the crowd of spectators and then
walked slowly over to the Stevens Hotel and booked himself in for the
night.  The desk clerk, who had a]ready checked most of the Richmond's
guests in, couldn't suppress a smile at the idea of booking the manager
in, too.  Once in his room, Abel sat down and wrote a formal letter to
Mr.  William Kane, giving him whatever details of the fire he could
supply, and telling him that he intended to use his unexpected freedom
to make a round of the other hotels in the group.  Abel could see no
point in hanging around in Chicago warming himself in the Richmond
embers, in the vain hope that someone would come along and bail him out.
.  After a first class breakfast at the Stevens the next morning - it
always made Abel feel good to be in a well-run hotel he walked over to
see Curtis Fenton at the Continen Trust Bank and apprise him of Kane and
Caboes attitud or to be more accurate of William Kane's attitude. Althou
Abel thought the request was pointless, he added that he looking for a
buyer for the Richmond Group at two milli dollars.

"Mat fire isn't going to help us, but I'll see what I can said Fenton,
sounding far more positive than Abel had pected.. "At the time you
bought twenty-five percent of group's shases from Miss Leroy I told you
that I thought hotels were a valuable asset and that you'd make a good
Despite the crash I see no reason to change my mind ab that, Mr.
Rosnovski.  I've watched you running your hotel for nearly two years
now, and I'd back you if the cision were left to me personally, but I
fear my bank w never agree to support the Richmond Group.  We've seen
financial results for far too long to have any faith in group's future,
and that fire was the last straw, if you'll don the expression.

Nevertheless, I do have some out contacts and I'll see if they can do
anything to help.  probably have more admirers in this city than you rea
Mr.  Rosnovski."

After Lieutenant O'Malleys comments Abel had dcred if he had any friends
left in Chicago at all.  He th Curtis Fenton, returned to the front desk
of the bank asked a teller for five thousand dollars in cash from the
account, He spent the rest of the morning in the Rich annex.  H-- gave
every member of his staff two week's and told them they could stay on at
the annex for at le month or until they had found new jobs.  He then
return the Stevens, packed the new clothes he'd had to buy result of the
fire and prepared for a tour of the rest Richmond hotels.

He drove the Buick he'd bought just before the stock ket crash down
south, first and started with the St. Richmond.  The trip around all the
hotels in the group nearly a month and although they were run down and,
money none of them was, in eless case.  They all had good locations;
some even the best-placed in the city.  Old man Leroy must been a
shrewder man than his son, thought Abel.  Heed every hotel insurance
policy carefully; no problerm When he finally reached the Dallas
Richmond, he was certain of only one thing: that anyone who managed to
buy the group for two million would be making himself a good deal.  He
wished that he could be given the chance, as he knew exactly what had to
be done to make the group profitable.

On his return to Chicago, nearly four weeks later, he checked into the
Stevens, where there were several messages awaiting him.  Lieutenant
O'Malley wished to contact him, so did William Kane, Curtis Fenton, and
a Mr.  Henry Osborne.

Abel started with the law, and after a short phone conversation with
O'Malley, agreed to meet him at the cafe on Michigan Avenue.  Abel sat
on a high stool, with his back to the counter, staring at the charred
shell of the Richmond Hotel, wl-iile he waited for the lieutenant.
O'Malley was a few minutes late, but he did not bother to apologise as
he took the next stool and swivelled around to face Abel.

"Why do we keep meeting like this?" asked Abel.

"You owe me a favour," said the lieutenant, "and nobody in Chicago gets
away with owing O'Malley a milk shake." Abel ordered two, one giant, one
regular.

"What did you find out?" asked Abel as he passed the detective two red
and white striped straws.

"The boys from the fire department were right, it was arson okay.  We've
arrested a guy called Desmond Pacey, who turns out to be the old manager
at the Richmond.  That was in your time, right?"

"I'm afraid it was," said Abel.

"Why do you say that?" asked the lieutenant.

"I had Pacey fired for embezzling the hotel's receipts.  He said he'd
get even with me if it was the last thing he did.  I didn't pay any
attention.  I've had too many threats in my life, Lieutenant, to take
any one of them that seriously, especially from a creature like Pacey."

"Well, I have to tell you that we've taken him seriously, and so have
the insurance people, because I'm told they're not paying out one penny
until it's proved there was no collusion between you and Pacey over the
fire."

"That's all I need at the moment," said Abel.. "How can you be so
certain it'sPacey

"We traced him to the casualty ward at the local hospital, the same day
as the fire.  A routine check asking the hospital to let us know if
anyone had come in that day with severe burns.  By chance - which is so
often the case in police work since we're not all born to be Sherlock
Holmes - a sergeant's wife who had been a waitress at the Richmond told
us that he used to be the manager.  Even I can put those two and two's
together.  The guy came clean pretty quick, didn't seem that interested
in being caught, only in pulling off what he called his own St.
Valentine's Day Massacre.  Until a few -noments ago I wasn't sure what
the object of that revenge was, but I sure know now; though I'm not too
surprised.  So that just about wraps the case up, Mr.  Rosnovski."

The lieutenant sucked on his straw until the gurgling sound convinced
him he had drained the last drop.

"Have another milk shake?"

"No, I'll give this one a miss.  I've got a heavy day ahead of me." He
got down from the stool.. "Good luck, Mr. Rosnovski.  If you can prove
to the insurance boys you had no involvement with Pacey, you'll get your
money.  I'll do everything I can to help when the case reaches court.
Keep in touch."

Abel watched him disappear through the door.  He gave the waitress a
dollar and walked out on to the pavement staring into space, a space
where the Richmond Hotel had been less than a month ago.  Then he turned
and strolled back to the Stevens deep in thought.

There was another message from Henry Osborne, still leaving no clue as
to who he was.  There was only one way to find out.  Abel called
Osborne, who turned out to be a claims inspector with the Great Western
Casualty Insurance Company with whom the hotel had their policy.  Abel
made an he man at noon.  He then called William gave him a report on the
hotels he had

"And may I say again, Mr.  Kane, that I could turn those Hotels' losses
into profits if your bank would give me the time and the backing.  What
I did in Chicago I know I can do for the rest of the group."

"Possibly you could, Mr.  Rosnovski ' but I fear it will not be with
Kane and Cabot's money.  May I remind you that you have only five days
left in which to find a backer.  Good day, sir."

"Ivy League snob," said Abel into the deaf telephone.. "I'm not classy
enough for your money, am I?  Some day, you bastard.

.  ."

The next item on Abel's agenda was the insurance man.  Henry Osborne
turned out to be a tall good-looking man with dark eyes and a mop of
dark hair just turning grey.  Abel found his easy manner congenial.
Osborne had little to add to Lieutenant O'Malley's story.  The Great
Western Casualty Insurance Company had no intention of paying any part
of the claim, while the police were pressing for a charge of arson
against Desmond Pacey, and until it was proved that Abel himself was in
no way involved.  Henry Osborne seemed to be very understanding about
the whole problem.

"Has the Richmond group enough money to rebuild the hotel?" asked
Osborne.

"Not a red cent," said Abel.. "The rest of the group is mortgaged up to
the hilt, and the bank is pressing me to sell.. "Why you?" said Osborne.

Abel explained how he had come to own the group's shares without
actually owning the hotels.  Henry Osborne was somewhat surprised.

"Surely the bank can see for themselves how well you ran that hotel?
Every businessman in Chicago is aware you were the first manager ever to
make a profit for Davis Leroy.  I know the banks are going through hard
times, but even they ought to know when to make an exception for their
own good."

"Not this bank."

"Continental Trust?" said Osborne.. "I've always found old Curtis Fenton
a bit starchy but amenable enough."

"It's not Continental.  The hotels are owned by a Boston bank called
Kane and Cabot." Henry Osborne went white and sat down.

"Are you all right?" asked Abel.

"Yes, I'm fine.. "You don't by any chance know Kane and Cabot?"

"Off the record?" said Henry Osborne.

"Sure."

"Yes, my company had to deal with them once before in the past." He
seemed to be hesitating.. "And we ended up having to take them to
court.. "Why?"

"I can't reveal the details.  A messy business.  Let's just say one of
the directors was not totally honest and open with US."

"Which one?" asked Abel.

"Which one did you have to deal with?" Osborne enquired.

"A man named William Kane."

Osborne seemed to hesitate again.. "Be careful," he said.. "He's the
world's meanest son of a bitch.  I can give you all the lowdown on him
if you want it, but that would be strictly between us."

"I certainly owe him no favours," said Abel.. "I may well be in touch
with you, Mr.  Osborne.  I have a score to settle with young Mr.  Kane
for his treatment of Davis Leroy."

"Well, you can count on me to help in any way I can if William Kane is
involved," said Henry Osborne, rising from behind his desk.. "But that
is strictly between us.  And if the court shows that Desmond Pacey burnt
the Richmond and no one else was involved, the company will pay up the
same day.  Then perhaps we can do some more business with all your other
hotels."

"Perhaps," said Abel.

He walked back to the Stevens and decided to have lunch and find out for
himself how well they ran their main dining ere was another message at
the desk for him.  A Mr.  /Maxton wondered if Abel was free to join him
for ,jcli at one.

"David Maxton," Abel said out loud, and the receptionist looked up. "Why
do I know that name?" he asked the staring girl.

"He owns this hotel, Mr.  Rosnovski.. "Ah, yes.  Please let Mr.  Maxton
know that I shall be delighted to have lunch with him." Abel glanced at
his watch.. "And would you tell him that I may be a few minutes late?"
"Certainly, sir," said the girl.

Abel went quickly up to his room and changed into a new white shirt,
wondering what David Maxton could possibly want.

The dining room was already packed when Abel arrived.  The head waiter
showed him to a private table in an alcove where the owner of the
Stevens was sitting alone.  He rose to greet Abel.

"Abel Rosnovski, sir."

"Yes, I know you," said Maxton, "or, to be more accurate, I know you by
reputation.  Do sit down and let's order lunch." Abel was compelled to
adniire the Stevens.  The food and the service were every bit as good as
those at the Plaza.  If he were to have the best hotel in Chicago, he
knew it would have to be better than this one.

The head waiter reappeared with the menus.  Abel studied his carefully,
politely declined a first course and selected the beef, the quickest way
to tell if a restaurant is dealing with the right butcher.  David Maxton
did not look at his menu and simply ordered the salmon.  The head waiter
scurried away.

"You must be wondering why I invited you to join me for lunch, Mr.
Rosnovski."

"I assumed," said Abel, laughing, "you were going to ask me to take over
the Stevens for you."

"You're absolutely right, Mr.  Rosnovski." It was Maxton's turn to
laugh.  Abel was speechless.  Even did not help.  The carver waited.
Maxton squeezed s lemon over his salmon and continued.

"My manager is due to retire in five months' time twenty-two years of
loyal service and the assistant man is also due for retirement very soon
afterwards, so I'm I ing for a new broom."

"Place looks pretty clean to me," said Abel.

"I'm always willing to improve, Mr.  Rosnovski.  Nev( satisfied with
standing still," said Maxton.. "I've been wing your activities
carefully.  It wasn't until you tool Richmond over that it could even be
classified as a hoti was a huge flop house before that.  In another two
or t years, you would have been a rival to the Stevens if fool hadn't
burned the place down before you were give! chance.. "Potatoes, sir?"
Abel looked up at a very attractive junior waitress.

smiled at him.

"No, thank you," he said to her.. "Well I'm very flatti Mr.  Maxton,
both by your comments and the offer.. "I think you'd be happy here, Mr.
Rosnovski.  The Ste is a well-run hotel, and I would be willing to start
you ( fifty dollars a week and two percent of the profits.  You c start
as soon as you like."

"I'll need a few days to think over your generous offer, Maxton," said
Abel, "but I confess I am very tempted.  , theless, I still have a few
problems left over from the I mond.. "String beans, sir?" The same
waitress, and the same s The face looked familiar.  Abel felt sure he
had seer somewhere before.  Perhaps she had once worked al Richmond.

"Yes, please."

He watched her walk away.  There was something a her.

"Why don't you stay on at the hotel as my guest for e da ' Maxton asked
'and see how we run the ce?  It

"That won't be necessary, Mr.  Maxton.  After only one day as a guest
here I knew how well the hotel is run.  My problem is that I own the
Richmond Group."

David Maxton's face registered surprise.. "I had no idea," he said.. "I
assumed old Davis Leroy's daughter would now be the owner."

"It's a long story," said Abel, and he explained to Maxton how he had
come into the ownership of the group's stock.

"The problem is a simple one, Mr.  Maxton.  What I really want to do is
find the two million dollars myself and build that group up into
something worthwhile.  Something that would even give you a good run for
your money."

"I see," said Maxton, looking quizzically at his empty plate.  A waiter
removed it. "Would you like some coffee?" The same waitress.  The same
familiar look.  It was beginning to worry Abel.

"And you say Curtis Fenton of Continental Trust is looking for a buyer
on your behalf ?"

"Yes, he has been for nearly a month," said Abel.. "In fact, I shall
know later this afternoon if they've had any success, but I'm not
optimistic."

"Well, that's most interesting.  I had no idea the Richmond Group was
looking for a buyer.  Will you please keep me informed either way?"

"Certainly," said Abel.

"How much more time is the Boston bank giving you to find the two
nffllion?"

"Only a few more days, so it won't be long before I can let you know my
decision."

"Thank you," said Maxton.. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Mr.
Rosnovski.  I feel sure I'd enjoy working with you." He shook Abel
warmly by the hand.

"Thank you, sir," said Abel.

The waitress smiled at him again as he passed her on his way out of the
dining room.  When Abel reached the head of our staff to the customers;
it's strictly against i policy.  If you have a complaint, perhaps you'd
enough to make it to me, sir."

"No complaint," said Abel.. "On the contrary, an lunch."

With a job offer under his belt, Abel felt more about facing Curtis
Fenton.  He was certain the ban] not have found a buyer, but none the
less, he strollc the Continental Trust with a spring in his heels.  He
idea of being the manager of the best hotel in Chi( haps he could make
it the best hotel in America.  A he arrived at the bank, he was ushered
directly in Fenton's office.  The tall, thin banker - did he wear suit
every day or did he have three identical ones?  Abel a seat, and a large
smile appeared across h solemn face.

"Mr.  Rosnovski, how good to see you again.  If come this morning, I
would have had no news to but only a few moments ago I received a call
from ested party."

Abel's heart leaped with surprise and pleasure silent for a few moments
and then he said. "Can who it is?"

"I'm afraid not.  The party concerned has given instructions that he
must remain anonymous, as action would be a private investment in some
pote flict with his own business."

"David Maxton," Abel murmured under his brc bless him."

Curtis Fenton did not respond and continued.  said, Mr.  Rosnovski, I'm
not in a position.  .  ."

"Quite, quite," said Abel.. "How long do you thin] before you are in a
position to let me know the g( decision one way or the other?"

"I can't be sure at the moment, but I may have i for you by Monday, so
if you happen to be passing

"Then perhaps we should make a firm appointment for Monday morning."

As Abel walked down Michigan Avenue on his way back to the Stevens it
started to drizzzle.  He found himself hummin. "Singing in the Rain'. He
took the lift up to his room and called William Kane to ask for an
extension until the following Monday, telling him he hoped to have found
a buyer.  Kane seemed reluctant but eventually agreed.

"Bastard," Abel repeated several times as he put the phone back on the
hook.. "Just give me a little time, Kane.

You'll live to regret killing Davis Leroy."

Abel sat on the end of his bed, his fingers tapping on the rail,
wondering how he could pass the time waiting for Monday.  He wandered
down into the hotel lobby.  There she was again, the waitress who had
served him at lunch ' now on tea duty in the Tropical Garden.  Abel's
curiosity got the better of him, and he went over and took a seat at the
far side of the room.  She came up.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said.. "Would you like some tea?" The same
familiar smile again.

"We know each other, don't we?" said Abel.

"Yes, we do, Wladek."

Abel cringed at the sound of the name and reddened slightly, remembering
how the short fair hair had been long and smooth and the veiled eyes had
been so inviting.. "Zaphia, we came to America on the same ship.  Of
course, you went to Chicago, What are you doing here?"

"I work here, as you can see.  Would you like some tea, sir?" Her Polish
accent warmed Abel.

"Have dinner with me tonight," he said.

"I can't, Wladek.  We're not allowed to go out with the customers.  If
we do, we automatically lose our jobs.. "I'm not a customer," said Abel.
"I'm an old friend.. "Who was going to come and visit me in Chicago as
soon as he had settled down, and when you did come you didn't even
remember I was here," said Zaphia.

"I know, I know.  Forgive me.  Zaphia, have dinner with me tonight. just
this once," said Abel.

"Just this once," she repeated.

"Meet me at Brundage's at seven o'clock.  Would that suit you?"

Zaphia flushed at the name.  It was probably the most expensive
restaurant in Chicago, and she would have been nervous to be there as a
waitress, let alone as a customer.

"No, let's go somewhere less grand, Wladek.. "Where?" said Abel.

"Do you know The Sausage on the corner of Forty-third?"

"No, I don't," he admitted, "but I'll find it.  Seven o'clock.. "Seven
o'clock, Wladek. That will be lovely.  By the way, do you want any tea?"

"No, I think I'll skip it," said Abel.

She smiled and walked away.  He sat watching her serve tea for several
minutes.  She was much prettier than he had remembered her being.
Perhaps killing time until Monday wasn't going to be so bad after all.

The Sausage brought back all of Abel's worst memories of his first days
in America.  He sipped a cold ginger beer while he waited for Zaphia and
watched with professional disapproval as the waiters slapped the food
around.

He was unable to decide which looked worse: the service or the food.
Zaphia was nearly twenty minutes late by the time she appeared in the
doorway, as smart as a band-box in a crisp yellow dress that looked as
if it had been recently taken up a few inches to conform with the latest
fashion, but still revealed how appealing her formerly slight body had
become.  Her grey eyes searched the tables for Wladek, and her pink
cheeks reddened as she became conscious of other men's eyes upon her.

"Good evening, Wladek,"she said in Polish.

Abel rose and offered her his chair near the fire.. "I am so glad you
could make it," he replied in English.

She looked perplexed for a moment, then, in English, she said. "I'm
sorry I'm late.. "Oh, I hadn't noticed.  Would you like something to
drink, Zaphia?"

"No, thank you."

,if them spoke for a moment, and then they both A at once.

Srgotten how pretty .  .  ." said Abel.

jw have you, .  ." said Zaphia.

the smiled shyly, and Abel wanted to touch her.  He re.einbered so well
experiencing the same reaction the first time he had ever seen her, over
eight years before.

"How's George?" she asked.

"I haven't seen him for over two years," replied Abel, suddenly feeling
guilty.. "I've been stuck working in a hotel here in Chicago, and then.
.  ."

"I know," said Zaphia.. "Somebody burnt the place down.. "Why didn't you
ever come over and say hello?" asked Abel.

"I didn't think you'd remember, Wladek, and I was right.. "Then how did
you ever recognise me?" said Abel.. "I've put on so much weight."

"The silver band," she said simply.

Abel looked down at his wrist and laughed.. "I have a lot to thank my
band for, and now I can add that it has brought us back together."

She avoided his eyes.. "What are you doing now that you no longer have a
hotel to run?"

"I'm looking for a job," said Abel, not wanting to intimidate her with
the fact that he'd been offered the chance to manage the Stevens.

"There's a big job coming up at the Stevens.  My boyfriend told me."

"Your boyfriend told you?" said Abel, repeating each painful word.

"Yes," she said, "the hotel will soon be looking for a new assistant
manager.  Why don't you apply for the job?  I'm sure you'd have a good
chance of getting it, Wladek.  I always knew you would be a success in
America."

"I might well apply," Abel said.. "It was kind of you to think of me.
Why doesn't your boyfriend apply?"

"Oh, no, he's far too junior to be considered; he's only a waiter in the
dining room with me."

Suddenly Abel wanted to change places with him.

"Shall we have dinner?" he said.

"I'm not used to eating out," Zaphia said.  She gazed at the iiienu in
indecision.  Abel, suddenly aware she still could not i cad English,
ordered for them both.

She ate with relish and was full of praise for the indifferent I ood.
Abel found her uncritical enthusiasm a tonic after the I)ored
sophistication of Melanie.  They exchanged the history of their lives in
America.

Zaphia had started in domestic service and progressed to being a
waitress at the Stevens where she had stayed put for six years.  Abel
told her of all his exI)eriences until finally she glanced at his watch.

"Look at the time, Wladek," she said, "it's past eleven and I'm on first
breakfast call at six tomorrow."

Abel had not noticed the four hours pass.  He would have liappily sat
there talking to her for the rest of the night, soothed by her
admiration which she confessed so artlessly.

"May I see you again, Zaphia?" he asked, as they walked back to the
Stevens arm-in-arm.

"If you want to, Wladek."

They stopped at the servants' entrance at the back of the hotel.

"This is where I go in," she said.. "If you were to become the assistant
manager, Wladek, you'd be allowed to go in by the front entrance."

"Would you mind calling me Abel?" he asked her.

"Abel?" she said, as if she were trying the name on like a new glove.
"But your name is Wladek."

"It was, but it isn't any longer.  My name is Abel Rosnovski."

"Abel's a funny name, but it suits you," she said.. "Thank you for
dinner, Abel.  It was lovely to see you again.  Good night."

"Good night, Zaphia," he said, and she was gone.

He watched her disappear through the servants?  entrance, then he walked
slowly around the block and into the hotel by the front entrance.
Suddenly - and not for the first time in his life - he felt very lonely.

Abel spent the weekend thinking about Zaphia and the images associated
with her - the stench of the steerage qua i ters, the confused queues of
immigrants on Ellis Island an(-i, above all, their brief but passionate
encounter in the lif-boat.  He took all his meals in the hotel
restaurant to be the; i i, her and to study the boyfriend.  He came to
the conclusion that he must be the young, pimply one.  He thought he had
pimples, he hoped he had pimples, yes, he did have pimples.  He was,
regrettably, the best-looking boy among the waiters, pimples
notwithstanding.

Abel wanted to take Zaphia out on Saturday, but she was working all day.
Nevertheless, he managed to accompany her to church on Sunday morning
and listened with mingled nostalgia and exasperation to the Polish
priest intoning the unforgotten words of the Mass.  It was the first
time Abel had been in a church since his days at the castle in Poland.
At that time he had yet to see or endure the cruelty which now made it
impossible for him to believe in any benevolent deity.  His reward for
attending church came when Zaphia allowed him to hold her hand as they
walked back to the hotel together.

"Have you thought any more about the position at the Stevens?" she
enquired.

"I'll know first thing tomorrow morning what their final decision is."

"Oh, I'm so glad, Abel.  I'm sure you would make a very good assistant
manager."

"Thank you," said Abel, realising they had been talking at cross
purposes.

"Would you like to have supper with my cousins tonight?" Zaphia asked.
"I always spend Sunday evening with them.. "Yes, I'd like that very
much."

Zaphia's cousins lived right near The Sausage itself, in the heart of
the city.  They were very impressed when she arrived with a Polish
friend who drove a new Buick.  The family, as Zaphia called them,
consisted of two sisters, Katya and Janina, and Katya's husband, janek.
Abel presented the sisters with a bunch of roses and then sat down and
inswered, in fluent Polish, all their questions about his future
I)rospects.  Zaphia was obviously embarrassed, but Abel knew the same
would be required of any new boyfriend in any I lolish-American
household.  He made an effort to play down this progress since his early
days in the butcher shop as he was conscious of janek's envious eyes
never leaving him.  Katya served a simple Polish meal of pierogi and
bigos which Abel would have eaten with a good deal more relish fifteen
years earlier.  He gave janck up as a bad job and concentrated on making
the sisters approve of him.  It looked as though they did.  Perhaps they
also approved of the pimply youth.  No, they couldn't; he wasn't even
Polish - or maybe He was - Abel didn't even know his name and had never
heard him speak.

On the way back to the Stevens, Zaphia asked, with a flash of
coquettishness he remembered, if it was considered safe to drive a motor
car and hold a lady's hand at the same time.  Abel laughed and put his
hand back on the steering wheel for the rest of the drive back to the
hotel.

"Will you have time to see me tomorrow?" he asked.

"I hope so, Abel," she said.. "Perhaps by then you be my boss.  Good
luck anyway."

He smiled to himself as he watched her go through the back door,
wondering how she would feel if she knew the real consequences of
tomorrow's decision.  He did not move until she disappeared through the
service entrance.

"Assistant manager," he said, laughing out loud as he climbed into bed,
wondering what Curtis Fenton's news would bring in the morning, trying
to put Zaphia out of his mind as he threw his pillow on the floor.

He woke a few minutes before five the next day.  The room was still dark
when he called for the early edition of the Tribune, and went through
the motions of reading the financial section.  He was dressed and ready
for breakfast when the restaurant opened at seven o'clock.  Zaphia was
not serving in the main dining room that morning, but the pimply
boyfriend was, which Abel took to be a bad omen.  After breakfast he
returned to his room; had he but known, y five minutes before Zaphia
came on duty.  He checked his tie in the mirror for the twentieth time
and once again looked at his watch.  He estimated that if he walked very
slowly, he would arrive at the bank as the doors were opening.  In fact,
he arrived five minutes early and walked once around the block, staring
aimlessly into store windows at expensive jewellery and new radios and
hand-tailored suits.  Would he ever be able to afford clothes like that?
he wondered.  He arrived back at the bank at four minutes past nine.

"Mr.  Fenton is not free at the moment.  Can you come back in half an
hour or would you prefer to wait?" the secretary asked.

"I'll come back," said Abel, not wishing to appear overanxious.

It was the longest thirty minutes he could remember since he'd been in
Chicago.  He had studied every shop window on La Salle Street, even the
women's clothes, which made him think happily of Zaph-ia.

On his return to Continental Trust the secretary informed him. "Mr.
Fenton will see you now."

Abel walked into the bank manager's office, feeling his hands sweating.

"Good morning, Mr.  Rosnovski.  Do have a seat."

Curtis Fenton took a file out of his desk which Abel could see had
"Confidential' written across the cover.

"Now," he began. "I hope you will find my news is to your liking.  The
principal concerned is willing to go ahead with the purchase of the
hotels on what I can only describe as favourable terms."

"God Almighty,"said Abel.

Curtis Fenton pretended not to hear him and continued.. "In fact, most
favourable term.  He will be responsible for putting up the full two
nffllion required to, clear Mr.  Leroy's debt while at the same time he
will form a new company with you in which the shares will be split sixty
percent to him and forty percent to you.  Your forty percent is
therefore valued at eight hundred thousand dollars, which will be
treated as a loan to you by the new company, a loan which

%vill be made for a term not to exceed ten years, at four percent, which
can be paid off from the company profits at the same rate.  That is to
say, if the company were to make in aiiv one year a profit of one
hundred thousand dollars, forty thousand of that profit would be set
against your eight hundred thousand debt, plus the four percent
interest.  If you clear the loan of eight hundred thousand in under ten
years you will be given the one-time option to buy the remaining sixty
percent of the company for a further three million dollars.  This would
give my client a firstclass return on his investment and you the
opportunity to own the Richmond Group outright.

"In addition to this, you will receive a salary of three thousand
dollars per annum, and your position as president of the group will give
you complete day-to-day control of the hotels.  You will be asked to
refer back to me only on matters concerning finance.  1 have been
entrusted with the task of reporting direct to your principal, and he
has asked me to represent his interests on the board of the new
Riclunond Group.  I have been happy to comply with this stipulation.  My
client does not wish to be involved personally.  As I have said before,
there might be a conflict of professional interests for him in this
transaction, which I am sure you will thoroughly understand.  He also
insists that you will at no time make any attempt to discover his
identity.  He will give you fourteen days to consider his terms, on
which there can be no negotiation, as he considers, and I must agree
with him, that he is striking a more than fair bargain."

Abel could not speak.

"Pray do say something, Mr.  Rosnovski."

"I don't need fourteen days to make a decision," said Abel finally.. "I
accept your client's terms.  Please thank him and tell him I will
certainly respect his request for anonymity."

"That's splendid,l said Curtis Fenton, permitting himself a wry smile.
"Now, a few small points.  The accounts for all the hotels in the group
will be placed with Continental Trust affiliates, and the main account
will be here in tl-us office under my direct control.  I will, in turn,
receive one thousand dollars a year as a director of the new company."

"I'm glad you're going to get something out of the deal," said Abel.

"I beg your pardon?" said the banker.

"I'll be pleased to be working with you, Mr.  Fenton.. "Your principal
has also placed two hundred and fif Ly thousand dollars on deposit with
the bank to be used as the day-to-day finance for the running of the
hotels during the next few months.  This will also be regarded as a loan
at four percent.  You are to advise me if this amount turns out to be
insufficient for your needs.  I consider it would enhance your
reputation with my client if you found the two hundred and fifty
thousand to be sufficient."

"I shall bear that in mind," said Abel, solemnly trying to imitate the
banker's locution.

Curtis Fenton opened a desk drawer and produced a large Cuban cigar.

"Do you smoke?"

"Yes," said Abel, who had never smoked a cigar before in his life.

He coughed himself down La Salle Street all the way back to the Stevens.
David Maxton was standing proprietorially in the foyer of the hotel as
Abel arrived.  Abel stubbed out his half-finished cigar with some relief
and walked over to him.

"Mr.  Rosnovski, you look a happy man this morning."

"I am, sir, and I am only sorry that I will not be working for you as
the manager of this hotel."

"Then so am 1, Mr.  Rosnovski, but frankly the news doesn't surprise
me."

"Thank you for everything," said Abel, injecting as much feeling as he
could into the little phrase and the look with which he accompanied it.

He left David Maxton and went into the dining room in search of Zaphia,
but she had already gone off duty.  Abel took the lift to his room,
re-lit the cigar, took a cautious puff, h

"Mr.  Kane, I have found it possible to raise the money required for me
to take over ownership of the Richmond Group.  A Mr.  Curtis Fenton of
Continental Trust will be in touch with you later today to provide you
with the details.

There will therefore be no necessity to place the hotels for sale on the
open market."

There was a short pause.  Abel thought with satisfaction how galling his
news must be to William Kane.

"Thank you for keeping me informed, Mr.  Rosnovski.  May I say how
delighted I am that you found someone to back you?  I wish you every
success for the future."

"Which is more than I wish you, Mr.  Kane."

Abel put the phone down, lay on his bed and thought about that future.

"One day,"he promised the ceiling. "I am going to buy your goddam bank
and make you want to jump out of a hotel bedroom on the twelfth floor."
He picked up the phone again and asked the girl on the switchboard to
get him Mr.  Henry Osborne at Great Western Casualty.

William put the telephone back on the hook, more amused than annoyed by
Abel Rosnovski's pugnacious approach.

He was sorry that he had been unable to persuade the bank to support the
little Pole who believed so strongly that he could pull the Richmond
Group through.  He fulfilled his remaining responsibilities by informing
the financial committee that Abel Rosnovski had found a backer,
preparing the legal documents for the take-over of the hotels, and then
finally closing the bank's file on the Richmond Group.

William was delighted when Matthew arrived in Boston a few days later to
take up his position as manager of the bank's investment de apartment.
Charles Lester made no secret establishment could do the boy no harm in
his long-teri, preparation to be chairman of Lester's.  Willias work
loa(i was instantly halved but his time became even more fully occupied.
He found himself dragged, protesting in mock horror, on to tennis courts
and into swimming pools at every available free moment; only Matthew's
suggestion of a ski trip to Vermont brought a determine. "No' from
William, but the sudden activity at least served to somewhat alleviate
his loneliness and impatience to be with Kate.

Matthew was frankly incredulous.. "I must meet the woman who can make
William Kane daydream at a board meeting which is discussing whether the
bank should buy more gold.. "Wait till you see her, Matthew.  I think
you'll agree she's a better investment than gold.. "I believe you.  I
just don't want to be the one to tell Susan.

She still thinks you're the only man in the world." William laughed.  It
had never crossed his mind.

The little pile of letters from Kate, which had been growing weekly, lay
in the locked drawer of Willias bureau in the Red House.  He read them
over again and again and soon knew them all virtually by heart.  At last
the one he had been waiting for came, appropriately dated.

Buckhurst Park 14 February 1930 Dearest William, Finally I have packed
up, sold off, given away or otherwise disposed of everything left here
and I shall be coming up to Boston in a tea chest on the nineteenth.  I
am almost frightened at the thought of seeing you again.  What if this
whole marvelous enchantment bursts like a bubble in the cold of a winter
on the Eastern seaboard?  Dear God, I hope not. I t be sure how I would
have gotten through these lonely months but for you.

With love, Kate The night before Kate was due to arrive, William
promised himself that he would not rush her into anything that either of
them might later regret.  It was impossible for him to assess to what
extent her feelings had developed in a transient state of mind
engendered by her husband's death, as he told Matthew.

"Stop being so pathetic," said Matthew.. "You're in love, and you may as
well face the fact."

When he first spotted Kate at the station, William almost abandoned his
cautious intentions there and then in the joy of watching that simple
smile light up her face.  He pushed towards her through the throng of
travellers and clasped her so firmly in his arms that she could barely
breathe.

"Welcome home, Kate."

William was about to kiss her when she drew away.  He was a little
surprised.

"William, I don't think yove met my parents."

That night William dined with Kate's family and then saw her every day
that he could escape from the bank7s problems and Matthew's tennis
racquet, even if only for a couple of hours.  After Matthew had met Kate
for the first time, he offered William all his gold shares in exchange
for one Kate.

"I never undersell,"replied William.

"Then I insist you tell me," demanded Matthew, "where you find someone
as valuable as Kate?"

"In the liquidation department, where else?" replied William.

"Turn her into an asset, William, quickly, because if you don't, you can
be sure I will."

Kane and Cabot's net loss from the 1929 crash came out at over seven
million dollars, which turned out to be about average for a bank their
size.  Many not much smaller banks had gone under, and William found
himself conducting a sustained holding operation through 1930 which kept
him under constant pressure.

When Franklin D.  Roosevelt was elected President of the United States
on a ticket of relief, recovery and reform, liam feared that the New
Deal would have little to ofl(-i Kane and Cabot.  Business picked up
very slowly, and -,A'iiliam found himself planning only tentatively for
expansion.

Meanwhile Tony Simmons, still running the London office, had broadened
the scope of its activities and made a respectable profit for Kane and
Cabot during his first t,.",o years.  His results looked all the better
against those of William, who had barely been able to break even during
the same period.

Late in 1932, Alan Lloyd recalled Tony Simmons to Boston to make a full
report to the board on the bank's activities in London.  No sooner had
Simmons reappeared than he announced his intention of running for the
chairmanship when Alan Lloyd retired in fifteen months' time.  William
was coiiipletely taken by surprise, for he had dismissed Simmons'
chances when he had disappeared to London under a small cloud.  It
seemed to William unfair that that cloud had been dispelled, not by
Simmons' acuity, but simply by dint of the fact that the English economy
had some bright spots and was a little less paralysed than American
business during the same period.

Tony Simmons returned to London for a further succesful year and
addressed the first board meeting, after his return, in a blaze of
glory,, with the announcement that the final third year's figures for
the London office would show a profit of over a million dollars, a new
record.  William had to announce a considerably smaller profit for the
same period.  The abruptness of Tony Sinnnons' return to favour left
William with only a few months in which to persuade the board that they
should support him before his opponent's momentum became unstoppable.

Kate listened for hours to Willias problems, occasionally offering an
understanding comment, a sympathetic reply or chastising him for being
over dramatic.

Matthew, acting as William's eyes and ears, reported that the voting
would fall, as far as was ascertainable, fifty-fifty, split between
those who considered that William was too young to hold such a r I
("."Pollsible post and those who still held Tony Simmo blame for the
extent of the bank's losses in 1929.  It se& that most of the
non-executive members of the board, i had not worked directly with
William, would be more ]Fenced by the age difference between the two
contend than any of the single factors.  Again and again Matth6 licard:
"William's time will come." Once, tentatively, he T)Iayed the role of
Satan the tempter to William. "With your Idings in the bank, William,
you could remove the entire I)oard, replace them with men of your own
choosing and get ),(urself elected chairman."

William was only too aware of that route to the top, but li(, had
already dismissed such tactics without needing seri()  isly to consider
them; he wished to become chairman solely ()II his own merits.  That was
after all, the way his father had preceived the position and it was
nothing less than Kate would expect of him.

On 2 January 1934 Alan Lloyd circulated to every mem1)(r the notice of a
board meeting that would be held on his ixty-fifth birthday, its sole
purpose being to elect his successor.  As the day for the crucial vote
drew nearer, Matthew found himself carrying the investment department
almost single-handed, and Kate found herself feeding them both while
they went over the latest state of his campaign again and again. Matthew
did not complain once about the extra work load that was placed on him
while William spent hours planning his bid to capture the chair.
William, conscious that Matthew had nothing to gain by his success, as
he would one day take over his father's bank in New York - a far bigger
proposition than Kane and Cabot - hoped a time might come when he could
offer Matthew the same unselfish support.

It was to come sooner than he imagined.

When Alan Lloyd's sixty-fifth birthday was celebrated, all seventeen
members of the board were present.  The meeting was opened by the
chairman, who made a farewell speech of only fourteen minutes, which
William thought would never come to an end.  Tony Simmons was nervously
tapping the yellow legal pad in frdnt of him with his pen, occasionally
looking up at William.  Neither was listening to Alan's speech.  At last
Alan sat down, to loud applause, or as loud as is appropriate to sixteen
Boston bankers.  When the clapping died away, Alan Lloyd rose for the
last time as chairman of Kane and Cabot.

"And now, gentlemen, we must elect my successor.  The board is presented
with two outstanding candidates, the director of our overseas division,
Mr.  Anthony Simmons, and the director of the American investment
department, Mr. William Kane.  They are both well known to you,
gentlemen, and I have no intention of speaking in detail on their
respective merits.  Instead I have asked each candidate to address the
board on how he would see the future of Kane and Cabot were he to be
elected chairman."

William rose first, as had been agreed between the two contestants the
night before on the toss of a coin, and addressed the board for twenty
minutes, explaining in detail that it would be his ambition to move into
new fields where the bank had not previously ventured.  In particular he
wanted to broaden the bank's base and to get out of a depressed New
England, moving close to the centre of banking which he believed was now
in New York.  He even mentioned the possibility of opening a holding
company which might specialise in commercial banking, at which the heads
of some of the older board members shook in disbelief.  He wanted the
bank to consider more expansion, to challenge the new generation of
financiers now leading America, and to see Kane and Cabot enter the
second half of the twentieth century as one of the largest financial
institutions in the United States.  When he sat down, he was satisfied
by the murmurs of approbation; his speech had, on the whole, been well
received by the board.

When Tony Simmons rose he took a far more conservative line : the bank
should consolidate its position for the next few years, moving only into
carefully selected areas and sticking to the traditional modes of
banking that had given Kane and Cabot the reputation they currently
enjoyed.  He had leamt his lesson during the crash and his main concern,
he added - to laughter - was to be certain that Kane and Cabot did enter
the second half of the twentieth century at all.  Tony spoke prudently
and with an authority that William was aware he was too young to match.
When Tony sat down, William had no way of knowing in whose favour the
board might swing, though he still believed that the majority would be
more inclined to opt for expansion rather than standing still.

Alan Lloyd informed the other directors that neither he nor the two
contestants intended to vote.  The fourteen voting members received
their little ballots, which they duly filled in and passed back to Alan
who, acting as teller, began to count slowly.  William found he could
not look up from his doodle-covered pad which also bore the imprint of
his sweating hand firmly upon it.  When Alan had completed the task of
counting, a hush came over the room and he announced six votes for Kane,
six votes for Sinunons, with two abstentions.  Whispered conversation
broke out among the board members, and Alan called for order.  William
took a deep and audible breath in the silence that followed.

Alan Lloyd paused and then said. "I feel that the appropirate course of
action in the circumstances is to have a second vote.  If any member who
abstained on the first ballot finds himself able to support a candidate
on this occasion, that might give one of the contestants an overall
majority." The little slips were passed out again.  William could not
bear even to watch the process this time.  While members wrote their
choices, he listened to the steel-nibbed pens scratching across the
voting papers.  Once again the ballots were returned to Alan Lloyd. Once
again he opened them slowly one by one, and this time he called out the
names as he read them.

William Kane.

Anthony Simmons, Anthony Simmons, Anthony Simmons.

Three votes to one for Tony Simmons.

William Kane, William Kane.

Anthony Sinunons.

William Kane, William Kane, William Kane.  Six to four for William.

Anthony Sinunons, Anthony Sirmnons.

William Kane.

Seven votes to six in favour of William.

It seemed to William, holding his breath, to take Alan Lloyd a lifetime
to open the final voting slip.

"Anthony Sirmnons," he declared.. "The vote is seven all, gentlemen."

William knew that Alan Lloyd would now be obliged to cast the deciding
vote, and although he had never told anyone whom he supported for the
chair, William had always assumed that if the vote came to a deadlock,
Alan would back him against Tony Simmons.

"As the voting has twice resulted in a dead heat, and since I assume
that no member of the board is likely to change his mind, I must cast my
vote for the candidate whom I feel should succeed me as chairman of Kane
and Cabot.  I know none of you will envy my position, but I have no
alternative except to stand by my own judgment and back the man I feel
should be the next chairman of the bank.

"That man is Tony Simmons."

William could not believe the words he heard and Tony Simmons looked
almost as shocked.  He rose from his seat opposite William to a round of
applause, changed places with Alan Lloyd at the head of the table and
addressed Kane and Cabot for the first time as the bank's new chairman.
He thanked the board for its support and praised William for never
having used his strong financial and familial position to try and
influence the vote.  He invited William to be vicechairman of the board
and suggested that Matthew Lester should replace Alan Lloyd as a
director; both suggestions received unanimous support.

William sat staring at the portrait of his father, acutely conscious of
having failed him.

Abel stubbed out the Corona for a second time and swore that he would
not light another cigar until he had cleared the two million dollars
that he needed for complete control of the Richmond Group.  This was no
time for big cigars, with the Dow-Jones index at its lowest point in
history and long soup lines in every major city in America.  He gazed at
the ceiling and considered his priorities.  First, he needed to salvage
the best of the staff from the Richmond Chicago.

He climbed off the bed, put on his jacket and went over to the hotel
annex, where most of those who had not found employment since the fire
were still living.  Abel re-employed everyone whom he trusted, giving
all those who were willing to leave Chicago work in one of the remaining
ten hotels.  He made his position very clear that in a period of record
unemployment their jobs were secure only as long as the hotels started
to show a profit.  He believed all the other hotels in the group were
being run as dishonestly as the old Chicago Richmond had been; he wanted
that changed - and changed quickly.  His three assistant managers were
each put in charge of one hotel each,, the Dallas Richmond, the
Cincinnati Richmond and the St.  Louis Richmond.  He appointed new
assistant managers for the remaining seven hotels in Houston, Mobile,
Charleston, Atlanta, Memphis, New Orleans and Louisville.  The original
Leroy hotels had all been situated in the South and Mid-West including
the Chicago Richmond, the only one Davis Leroy had been responsible for
building himself.  It took Abel another three weeks to get the old
Chicago staff settled into their new hotels.

Abel decided to set up his own headquarters in the Richmond annex and to
open a small restaurant on the ground floor.  It made sense to be near
his backer and his banker rather than to settle in one of the hotels in
the South.  Moreover, Zaphia was in Chicago, and Abel felt with
certainty that given a little time she would drop the pimply youth and
fall in love with him.  She was the only woman he had ever known with
whom he felt self-assured.  When Abel was about to leave for New York to
recruit more specialised staff, he exacted a promise from her that she
would no longer see the pimply boyfriend.

"Still pimply," said Abel to himself, "but no longer the boyfriend."

The night before his departure they slept together for the first time.
She was soft, plump, giggly and delicious.

Abel's attentive care and gentle expertise took Zaphia by surprise.

"How many girls have there been since the Black Arrow?" she teased.

"None that I really cared about," he replied.

"Enough of them to forget me," she added.

"I never forgot you," he said untruthfully, leaning over to kiss her,
convinced it was the only way to stop the conversation.

When Abel arrived in New York, the first thing he did was to look up
George, whom he found out of work in a garret on East Third Street.  He
had forgotten what those houses could be like when shared by twenty
families.  The smell of stale food in every room, toilets that didn't
flush and beds that were slept in by three different people every
twenty-four hours.  The bakery, it seemed, had been closed down, and
George's uncle had had to find employment at a large mill on the
outskirts of New York which could not take on George as well.  George
leaped at the chance to join Abel and the Richmond Group - in any
capacity.

Abel recruited three new employees: a pastry chef, a comptroller and a
head waiter before he and George travelled back to Chicago to set up
base in the Richmond annex.  Abel was pleased with the outcome of his
trip.  Most hotels on the East coast had cut their staff to a bare
minimum which had made it easy to pick up experienced people, one of
them from the Plaza itself.

In early March Abel and George set out for a tour of the remaining
hotels in the group.  Abel asked Zaphia to join them on the trip, even
offering her the chance to work in any of the hotels she chose, but she
would not budge from Chicago, the only American territory familiar to
her.  As a compromise she went to live in Abel's rooms at the Richmond
annex while he was away.  George, who had acquired middleclass morals
along with his American citizenship and Catholic upbringing, urged the
advantages of matrimony on Abel, who, lonely in one impersonal hotel
room after another, was a ready listener.

It came as no surprise to Abel to find that the other hotels were still
being badly, and in some cases dishonestly run, but high national
unemployment encouraged most of the staff to welcome his arrival as the
saviour of the group's fortunes.  Abel did not find it necessary to fire
staff in the grand manner he adopted when he had first arrived in
Chicago.  Most of those who knew of his reputation and feared his
methods had already left.  Some heads had to fall and they inevitably
were attached to the necks of those people who had worked with the
Richmond Group for a considerable time and were unable to change their
unorthodox ways merely because Davis Leroy was dead.  In several cases,
Abel found a move of personnel from one hotel to another engendered a
new attitude.  By the end of his first year as chairman, the Richmond
Group was operating with only half the staff they had employed in the
past and showed a net loss of only a little over one hundred thousand
dollars.  The turnover among the senior staff was very low; Abel's
confidence in the future of the group was infectious.

Abel set himself the target of breaking even in 1932.  He felt the only
way he could achieve such a rapid improvement in profitability was to
let every manager in the group take the responsibility for his own hotel
with a share in the profits, much in the way that Davis Leroy had
treated him when he had first come to the Chicago Richmond.

Abel moved from hotel to hotel, never letting up, and never staying in
one particular place for more than three weeks at a time.  He did not
allow anyone, other than the faithful George, his surrogate eyes and
ears in Chicago, to know at which hotel he might arrive next.  For
months he broke this exhausting routine only to visit Zaphia or Curtis
Fenton.

After a full assessment of the group's financial position Abel had to
make some more unpleasant decisions.  The most drastic was to close
temporarily the two hotels, in Mobile and Charleston, which were losing
so much money that he felt they would become a hopeless drain on the
rest of the group's finances.  The staff at the other hotels watched the
axe fall and worked even harder.  Every time he arrived back at his
little office in the Richmond annex in Chicago there would be a clutch
of memos demanding immediate attention burst pipes in washrooms,
cockroaches in kitchens, flashes of temperament in dining rooms, and the
inevitable dissatisfied customer who was threatening a law suit.

Henry Osborne re-entered Abel's life with a welcome offer of a
settlement of $750,000 from Great Western Casualty, who could find no
evidence to implicate Abel with Desmond Pacey in the fire at the Chicago
Richmond.

Lieutenant O'Malley's evidence had proved very helpful on that point.
Abel realised he owed him more than a milk shake.  Abel was happy to
settle at what he considered was a fair price but Osborne suggested to
him that he should hold out for a larger amount and give him a
percentage of the difference.  Abel, whose shortcomings had never
included speculation, regarded him somewhat warily after that: if
Osborne could so readily be disloyal to his own company, there was
little doubt that he would have no qualms about ditching Abel when it
suited him.

In the spring of 1932 Abel was somewhat surprised to receive a friendly
letter from Melanie Leroy, more welcoming in tone than she had ever been
in person.  He was flattered, even excited, and called her to make a
date for dinner at the

3IO

Stevens, a decision he regretted the moment they entered the dining room
for there, looking unsophisticated, tired and vulnerable, was Zaphia.
Melanie, in contrast, looked ravishing in a long mint green dress which
indicated quite clearly what her body would be like if the mint were
removed.  Her eyes, perhaps taking courage from the dress, seemed
greener and more captivating than ever.

"It's wonderful to see you looking so well, Abel," she remarked as she
took her seat in the Centre of the dining room, "and of course,
everybody knows how well you are doing with the Richmond Group."

"The Baron Group,"said Abel.

She flushed slightly.. "I didn't realise you had changed the name."

He had in fact changed it last year," lied Abel at that very moment that
every hotel in the group would be known as a Baron hotel.  He wondered
why he had never thought of it before.

"An appropriate name," said Melanie, sling.

Zaphia set the mushroom soup in front of Melanie with a little thud that
spoke volumes to Abel.  Some of the soup nearly ended up on the mint
green dress.

scribbling the word. "You're not working?" asked Abel. "Baron Group' on
the back of his menu.

"No, not at the moment, but things are looking up a little.  A woman
with a liberal arts degree in this city has to sit around and wait for
every man to be employed before she can hope to find a job."

"If you ever want to work for the Baron Group," said Abel, empliasising
the name slightly, "you only have to let me know."

"No, no," said Melanie.. "I'm just fine."

She quickly changed the subject to music and the theatre.

Talking to her was an unaccustomed and pleasant challenge made for Abel;
she teased him, but with intelligence.  She him feel more confident in
her company than he had ever been in the past.  The dinner went on until
well after eleven, and when everyone had left the dining room, including
sil Zaphia, ominously red-eyed, he drove Melanie home I() li flat, and
this time she did invite him in for a drink.  He ,.i: the end of a sofa
while she poured him a prohibited A,11161, and put a record on the
phonograph.

"I can't stay long," Abel said.. "Busy day tomorrow.. "That's what I'm
supposed to say, Abel.  Don't rush awa, this evening has been such fun,
just like old times."

She sat down beside him, her dress rising above her knees Not quite like
old times, he thought.  Incredible legs.  11 made no attempt to resist
when she edged towards him.  In moments he found he was kissing her - or
was she kissin,, him?  His hands wandered on to those legs and then to
h(,ibreasts, and this time she seemed to respond willingly.  It was she
who eventually led him by the hand to her bedroom, folded back the
coverlet neatly, turned around and asked him to unzip her.  Abel obliged
in nervous disbelief and switched out the light before he undressed.
After that it was easy for him to put joyce's careful tuition into
practice.  Melanie certainly was not lacking in experience herself; Abel
had never enjoyed the act of making love more and fee I into a deep
contented sleep.

In the morning Melanie made him breakfast and attended to his every
need, right up to the moment he had to leave.

"I shall watch the Baron Group with renewed interest," sbc told him,
'not that anyone doubts that it's going to be a huge success."

"Thank you," said Abel, "for breakfast and a memorable night."

"I was hoping we'd be seeing each other again sometimc soon," Melanie
added.

"I'd like that," said Abel.

She kissed him on the check as a wife might who was seeing her husband
off to work.

"I wonder what kind of woman you'll end up marrying, she asked
innocently as she helped Abel on with his overcoat.

He looked at her and smiled sweetly.. "When I make that ecision,
Melanie, you can be certain I shall only be influ-aced by your views."
"What do you mean?" asked Melanie, coyly.

"Simply that I shall heed your advice," replied Abel, as he to find
myself a nice i Reached the front door, "and be sure "olish girl who
will marry me."

month later.  Zaphia's and Zaphia were married a C,Dusin, janek, gave
her away and George was the best man.  .  i'he reception was held at the
Stevens and the drinking and (lancing went on far into the night.  By
tradition, each man 1)aid a token sum to dance with Zaphia, and George
perspired as he battled round the room, photographing the guests in
every possible permutation and combination.  After a midnight supper of
barszcz, pierogi and bigos downed with ),Vine, brandy and Danzig vodka,
Abel and Zaphia were allowed to retire to the bridal suite, with many a
wink from i he men and tears from the women.

Abel was pleasantly surprised to be told by Curtis Fenton the next
morning that the bill for his reception at the Stevens I iad been
covered by Mr.  Maxton and was to be treated as a Nvedding gift.  He
used the money he had saved for the reception as a down payment on a
little house on Rigg Street.

For the first time in his life he possessed a home of his own2 I iam
decided to take a montys holiIn February of 1934 Will     ut his

day in England before making any firm decision abo future; he even
considered resigning from the board, but Matthew convinced him that that
was not the course of action his father would have taken in the same
circumstances.  Matthew appeared to take his friend's defeat even harder
than William himself.  Twice in the following week he came into the bank
with the obvious signs of a hangover F

and left important work unfinished.  William decided to let these
incidents pass without comment and invited Matthew to join him and Kate
for dinner that night.  Matthew declined, claiming that he had a
backload of work on which to catch up.  William would not have given the
refusal a second thought if Matthew had not been dining at the Ritz
Carlton that night with an attractive woman who William could have sworn
was married to one of Kane and Cabot's departmental managers.  Kate said
nothing, except that Matthew did not look very well.

William, preoccupied with his impending departure for Europe, took less
notice of his friend's strange behaviour than he might otherwise have
done.  At the last moment William couldn't face a month in England alone
and asked Kate to accompany him.  To his surprise and delight she
agreed.

William and Kate sailed to England on the Mauretania in separate cabins.
Once they had settled into the Ritz, in separate rooms, even on separate
floors, William reported to the London branch of Kane and Cabot in
Lombard Street and fulfilled the ostensible purpose of his trip to
England by reviewing the bank's European activities.  Morale was high
and Tony Simmons had evidently been a well-liked manager; there was
little for William to do but murmur his approval.

He and Kate spent a glorious two weeks together in London, Hampshire and
Lincolnshire, looking at some land William had acquired a few months
previously, over twelve thousand acres in all.  The financial return
from farining land is never high but, as William explained to Kate. "It
will always be there if things ever go sour again in America."

A few days before they were due to travel back to the United States,
Kate decided she wanted to see Oxford, and William agreed to drive her
down early the next morning.  He hired a new Morris, a car he had never
driven before.

In the university city, they spent the day wandering around the
colleges: Magdalen, superb against the river; Christchurch, grandiose
but cloisterless; and Merton where they just sat on the grass and
dreamed.

"Can't sit on the grass, sir," said the voice of a college porter.

They laughed and walked hand-in-hand like undergraduates by the side of
the Cherwell watching eight Matthews straining to push a boat along as
fast as possible.  William could no longer imagine a life separated in
any part from Kate.

They started back for London in midafternoon, and when they reached
Henley-on-Thames, they stopped to have tea at the Bell Inn overlooking
the river.  After scones and a large pot of strong English tea (Kate was
adventuresome and drank it with only milk, but William added hot water
to dilute it), Kate suggested that they should start back before it was
too dark to see the countryside, but when William had re-inserted the
crank into the Morris, despite strenuous effort he could not get the
engine to turn over.  Finally he gave up, and since it was getting late,
decided that they would have to spend the night in Henley.  He returned
to the front desk of the Bell Inn and requested two rooms.

"Sorry, sir, I have only one double room left," said the receptionist.

William hesitated for a moment and then said. "We'll take it."

Kate looked somewhat surprised but said nothing; the receptionist looked
suspiciously at her.

"Mr.  and Mrs....  er ...  ?"

"Mr.  and Mrs.  William Kane," said William y.. "We'll be back later."
"Shall I put your cases in the room, sir?" the hall porter asked.

"We don't have any," William replied, smiling.

"I see, sir." A bewildered Kate followed William up Henley High Street
until he came to a halt in front of the parish church.

"May I ask what we're doing, William?" she asked.

"Something I should have done a long time ago, my darling."

Kate asked no more questions.  When they entered the vestry.  William
found a verger piling up some hymn books.

"Where can I find the vicar?" demanded William.

The verger straightened himself to his full height and regarded him
pityingly.

"In the vicarage, I dare say."

"Where's the vicarage?" asked William, trying again.

"You're an American gentleman, aren't you, sir."

"Yes," said William, becoming impatient.

"The vicarage will be next door to the church, won't it?" said the
verger.

"I suppose it will," said William.. "Can you stay here for the next ten
minutes?"

"Why should I want to do that, sir?"

William extracted a large, white, five-pound note from his inside pocket
and unfolded it.. "Make it fifteen minutes to be on the safe side,
please."

The verger studied the five pounds carefully and said. "Americans.  Yes,
sir."

William left the man with his five-pound note and hurried Kate out of
the church.  As they passed the main notice board in the porch, he read:
"The Vicar of this Parish is The Reverend Simon Tukesbury, M.A.
(Cantab)," and next to that pronouncement, hanging by one nail, was an
appeal notice concerning a new roof for the church.  Every penny towards
the necessary five hundred pounds will help, declared the notice, not
very boldly.  William hastened up the path to the vicarage with Kate a
few yards behind, and a smiling, pink-cheeked, plump lady answered his
sharp knock on the door.

"Mrs.  Tukesbury?" enquired William.

"Yes."Shesniiled.

"May I speak to your husband?"

"He's having his tea at the moment. Would it be possible for you to come
back a little later?"

"I'm afraid it's rather urgent," William insisted.

Kate had caught up with him but said nothing.

"Well, in that case I suppose you'd better come in."

The vicarage was early sixteenth century and the small stone front room
was warmed by a welcoming log fire.  The vicar, a tall spare man who was
eating wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches, rose to greet them.

"Good afternoon, Mr ....  ?"

"Kane, sir, William Kane.. "What can I do for you, Mr.  Kane?"

"Kate and I," said William, "want to get married." "Oh, how nice," said
Mrs.  Tukesbury.

"Yes indeed," said the vicar.. "Are you a member of this parish?  I
don't seem to remember.  .  ."

No, sir, I'm an American.  I worship at St.  Paul's in Boston."

"Massachusetts, I presume, not Lincolnshire," said the Reverend
Tukesbury.

"Yes," said William, forgetting for a moment that there was a Boston in
England.

"Splendid," said the vicar, his hands raised as if he were about to give
a blessing.. "And what date did you have in mind for this union of
souls?"

"Now, sir."

"Now, sir?" said the startled vicar.. "I am not aware of the traditions
in the United States that surround the solemn) holy and binding
institution of marriage, Mr.  Kane, though one reads of some very
strange incidents involving some of your compatriots from California.  I
do, however, consider it nothing less than my duty to inform you that
those customs have not yet become acceptable in Henley-on-Thames.  In
England, sir, you must reside for a full calendar month in any parish
before you can be married and the banns must be posted on three separate
occasions, unless there are very special and extenuating circumstances.

Even did such circumstances exist, I would have to seek the bishop's
dispensation, and I couldn't do that in under three days," Mr. Tukesbury
added, his hands now firmly at his side.

Kate spoke for the first time.. "How much do you still need for the
church's new roof ?"

"Ah, the roof.  Now there is a sad story, but I won't embark upon its
history at this moment, early eleventh century you know .  .

"How much do you need?" asked William, tightening his grasp on Kate's
hand.

"We are hoping to raise five hundred pounds.  W&'ve done commendably
well so far; we've reached twentyseven pounds four shillings and four
pence in only seven weeks.. "No, no dear," said Mrs.  Tukesbury.. "You
haven't counted the one pound eleven shillings and two pence I made from
my "Bring and Buy" sale last week."

"Indeed I haven't, my dear.  How inconsiderate of me to overlook your
personal contribution.  That will make altogether .  .."began the
Reverend Tukesbury as he tried to add the figures in his head, raising
his eyes towards heaven for inspiration.

William took his wallet from his inside pocket, wrote out a cheque for
five hundred pounds and silently proffered it to the Reverend Tukesbury.

"I ...  ah, I see there are special circumstances, Mr.  Kane," said the
surprised vicar.  The tone changed.. "Has either of you ever been
married before?"

"Yes," said Kate.. "My husband was killed in a plane crash over four
years ago."

"Oh, how terrible," said Mrs.  Tukesbury.. "I am so sorry, I didn't .  .
."

"Shush, my dear," said the man of God, now more interested in the church
roof than in his wife's sentiments.

"And you, Sir?"

"I have never been married before," said William.

"I sball have to telephone the bishop." Clutching Willias cheque, the
Reverend disappeared into the next room.

Mrs.  Tukesbury invited them to sit down and offered them the plate of
cucumber sandwiches.  She chatted on, but William and Kate did not hear
her words as they sat gazing at each other.

The vicar returned three cucumber sandwiches later.

"It's highly irregular, highly irregular, but the bishop has agreed, on
the condition, Mr.  Kane, that you will confirm everything at the
American Embassy tomorrow morning and then with, your own bishop at St.
Paurs in Boston ...

Massachusetts immediately you return home.3 He was still clutching the
five-hundred-pound cheque.

'he continued.. "My wife. "All we need now is two witnesses,   r is
still can act as one, and we must hope that the verge around, so that he
can be the other."

"He is still around, I assure you," said William.

"How can you be so certain, Mr.  Kane?"

"He cost me one percent."

"One percent?" said the Reverend Tukesbury, baffled.

"One percent of your church roof," said William.  he The vicar ushered
William, Kate and his wife down t little path back to the church and
blinked at the waiting verger. rogget has remained on

"Indeed, I perceive that Mr.  SP

; you obviously have a duty ...  He has never done so for me way with
you, Mr.  Kane."    surplice Simon Tukesbury put on his vestments and a
while the verger stared at the scene in disbelief.  know it's William
turned to Kate and kissed her gently.. "I a damn silly question in the
circumstances) but will you marry me?" cgood God, , said the Reverend
Tukesbury who had years of his mortal existnever blasphemed in the
fifty-seven ence.. "You mean you haven't even asked her?"

Fifteen minutes later, Mr.  and Mrs.  William Kane left the parish
church of Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire.  Mrs. Tukesbury had had to
supply the ring at the last moment, which she twitched from a curtain in
the vestry.  It was a perfect fit.  The Reverend Tukesbury had a new
roof, and Mr.  Sprogget a yarn to tell them down at The Green Man where
he spent most of his five pounds.

outside the church the vicar handed William a piece of paper.. "Two
shillings and sixpence, please." twhat for?" asked William.

"Your marriage certificate, Mr.  Kane."

"You should have taken up banking, sit," said William, handing Mr.
Tukesbury half a crown.

He walked his bride in blissful silence back down the High Street to the
Bell Inn.  They had a quiet dinner in the fifteenth-century oak-beamed
dining room, and went to bed at a few minutes past nine.  As they
disappeared up the old wooden staircase to their room, the chief
receptionist turned to the hall porter and winked.. "If they're married,
I'm the King of England." William started to hu. "God Save the King."

The next morning Mr, and Mrs.  Kane had a leisurely breakfast while the
car was fixed.  (His father would have told him all it needed was a new
fan belt.)  A young waiter poured them both a coffee. "Do you like it
black or shall I add some milk?" asked William innocently.

An elderly couple smiled benignly at them.

"With milk, please," said Kate as she reached across and touched
William's hand gently.

He smiled back at her, suddenly aware the whole room was now staring at
them.

They returned to London in the cool early spring air, travelling through
Henley, over the Thames, and then on up through Berkshire and Middlesex
into London.

"Did you notice the look the porter gave you this morning, darling?"
asked William.

"Yes, I think perhaps we should have shown him our marriage
certificate.. "No, no, you'd have spoilt his whole image of the wanton
American woman. The last thing he wants to tell his wife when be returns
home tonight is that we were really married."

When they arrived back at the Ritz in time for lunch, the desk manager
was surprised to find William cancelling Kate's room.  He was heard to
comment later. "Young Mr.  Kane appeared to be such a gentleman.  His
late and distinguished father would never have behaved in such a way."

having first called at the American embassy in Grosve Gardens to inform
a consul of their new marital status.

consul gave them a long official form to fill out, cha them one pound,
and kept them waiting for well over hour.

The American embassy, it seemed, was not in need a new roof.  William
wanted to go to Cartier's in Bond Strand buy a gold wedding ring, but
Kate would not hear - nothing was going to part her from the precious
curt ring.

William found it difficult to settle down in Boston under new chairman.
The precepts of the New Deal were pas into law with unprecedented
rapidity, and William and T Simmons found it impossible to agree on
whether the plications for investment would be good or bad.  Expan - on
one front at least - became unstoppable when announced soon after their
return from England that she pregnant, news which gave her parents and
husband g joy.  William tried to modify his working hours to suit his
role as a married man but found himself at his desk incr ingly often
throughout the hot summer evenings.  Kate, and happy in her flowered
maternity smock, method! supervised the decoration of the nursery of the
Red H William found for the first time in his life that he could I his
work desk and look forward to going home.  If he work left over he just
picked up the papers and took t back to the Red House, a pattern to
which he adh throughout their married life.

While Kate and the baby that was due about Chris time brought William
great happiness at home, Mat was making him increasingly uneasy at work.
He had t to drinking and coming to the office late with no expl tions.
As the months passed, William found he coul longer rely on his friend's
judgment.  At first, he said ing, hoping it was little more than an odd
out-of-cha reaction - which might quickly pass - to the repeal of
hibition.  But it wasn't, and the problem went from b Matthew arrived
two hours late, obviously suffering from a hangover, and made a simple,
unnecessary mistake, selling off an important investment which resulted
in a small loss for a client who should have made a handsome profit.

William knew the time had come for an unpleasant but necessary head-on
confrontation.  Matthew admitted his error and apologised regretfully-
William was thankful to have the row out of the way and was about to
suggest they go to lunch together when his secretary
uncharacteristically rushed into his office.

"It's Your wife, sir, she's been taken to the hospital.. "Why?" asked
William, puzzled.

"The baby," said his secretary.

"But it's not due for at least another six weeks," said William
incredulously.

"I know, sir, but Doctor MacKenzie sounded rather anxious, and wanted
you to come to the hospital as quickly as possible."

Matthew, who a moment before had seemed a broken reed, took over and
drove William to the hospital.

Memories of William's mother's death and her stillborn daughter came
flooding back to both of them.

spray God not Kate," said Matthew as he drew into the hospital car park.

William did not need to be guided to the Anne Kane Matemity Wing which
Kate had officially opened only six months before.  He found a nurse
standing outside the delivery room who informed him that Doctor
MacKenzie was with his wife, and that she had lost a lot of blood.
William paced up and down the corridor helplessly, numbly waiting,
exactly as he had done years before.  The scene was all too familiar.
How unimportant being chairman of the bank was compared with losing
Kate.  When had he last said to he. "I love YOU'?  Matthew sat with
William, paced with William, stood with William, but said nothing. There
was nothing to be said.  William checked his watch each time a nurse ran
in or out of the delivery room.  Seconds turned into minutes and minutes
into hours.  Finally Doctor MacKenzie appeared, his forehead shining
with little beads of sweat, a surgical mask covering his nose and mouth.
William could see no expression on the doctor's face until he removed
the white mask, revealing a large smile.

"Congratulations, William, you have a boy, and Kate is just fine."
"Thank God," breathed William, clinoing on to Matthew.

"Much as I respect the Almighty," said"Doctor MacKenzie. "I feel I had a
little to do with this birth myself." William laughed.. "Can I see
Kate?"

"No, not right now, I've given her a sedative and she's fallen asleep.
She lost rather more blood than was good for her, but she'll be fine by
morning.  A little weak, perhaps, but well ready to see you.  But
there's nothing to stop you seeing your son.  But don't be surprised by
his size; remember he's quite premature."

The doctor guided William and Matthew down the corridor to a room in
which they stared through a pane of glass at a row of six little pink
heads in cribs.

"That one," said Doctor MacKenzie, pointing to the infant that had just
arrived.

William stared dubiously at the ugly little face, his vision of a fine,
upstanding son receding rapidly.

"Well, I'll say one thing for the little devil," said Doctor MacKenzie
cheerfully, "he's better looking than you were at that age, and you
haven't turned out too badly." William laughed out of relief.

"What are you going to call him?"

"Richard Higginson Kane."

The doctor patted the new father affectionately on the shoulder.. "I
hope I live long enough to deliver Richard's first-born."

William immediately wired the rector of St.  Paul's, who put the boy
down for a place in 1943, and then the new father and Matthew got
thoroughly drunk and were both late arriving at the hospital the next
morning to see Kate.

William took Matthew for another look at young Richard.

"Ugly little bastard," said Matthew, "not at all like his beautiful
mother."

"That's what I thought)' said William.

"Spitting image of you, though."

William returned to Kate's flower-filled room.

"Do you like your son?" Kate asked her husband.. "Hes so like you."

"I'll hit the next person who says that," William said.. "He's the
ugliest little thing I've ever seen."

"Oh, no," said Kate in mock indignation, "he's beautiful."

"A face only a mother could love," said William and hugged his wife.

She clung to him, happy in his happiness.

"What would Grandmother Kane have said about our first-born entering the
world after less than eight months of marriage?  "I don't wish to appear
uncharitable, but anyone born in under fifteen months must be considered
of dubious parentage; under nine months definitely unacceptable," '
William mimicked.. "By the way, Kate, I forgot to tell you something
before they rushed you into the hospital.. "What was that?"

"I love you."

Kate and young Richard had to stay in the hospital for nearly three
weeks.  Not until after Christmas did Kate fully recover her vitality.
Richard, on the other hand, grew like an uncontrolled weed, no one
having informed him that he was a Kane, and one was not supposed to do
that sort of thing.  William became the first male Kane to change a
nappy and push a perambulator.  Kate was very proud of him, and somewhat
surprised.  William told Matthew that it was high time he found himself
a good woman and settled down.

Matthew laughed defensively.. "You're getting positively ddle-aged.  I
shall be looking for grey hairs next."

One or two had already appeared during the chairmanship battle.  Matthew
hadn't noticed.

William was not able to put a finger on exactly when his relationship
with Tony Simmons began to deteriorate badly.

Tony would continually veto one policy suggestion after another, and his
negative attitude made William seriously consider resignation again.
Matthew was not helping matters by returning to his old drinking habits.
The period of reform had not lasted more than a few months, and, if
anything, he was now drinking more heavily than before and arriving at
the bank a few minutes later each morning.  William wasn't quite sure
how to handle the new situation and found himself continually covering
Matthew's work.  At the end of each day, William would double-check
Matthew's mail and return his unanswered calls.

By the spring of 1936, as investors gained more confidence and
depositors returned, William decided the time had come to go tentatively
back into the stock market, but Tony vetoed the suggestion in an
off-hand, interoffice memorandum to the financial committee.  William
stormed into Tony's office to ask if his resignation would be welcome.

"Certainly not, William.  I merely want you to recognise that it has
always been my policy to run this bank in a conservative manner, and
that I am not willing to charge headlong back into the market with our
investors' money."

"But we're losing business hand-over-fist to other banks while we sit on
the sidelines watching them take advantage of the present situation.
Banks which we wouldn't even have considered as rivals ten years ago
will soon be overtaking US."

"Overtaking us in what, William?  Not in reputation.  Quick profits
perhaps, but not reputation."

"But I'm interested in profits," said William.. "I consider it a bank's
duty to make good returns for its investors, not to mark time in a
gentlemanly fashion."

"I would rather stand still than lose the reputation that this bank
built up under your grandfather and father over the better part of half
a century."

"Yes, but both of them were always looking for new opportunities to
expand the bank's activities."

"In good times,"said Tony.

"And in bad,"said William.

"Why are you so upset, William?  You still have a free hand in the
running of your own department."

"Like hell I do.  You block anything that even suggests enterprise."

"Let's start being honest with each other, William.  One of the reasons
I have had to be particularly cautious lately is that Matthew's judgment
is no longer reliable."

"Leave Matthew out of this.  ies me yore blocking; I am head of the
department."

"I can't leave Matthew out of it.  I wish I could.  The final overall
responsibility to the board for anyone's actions is mine, and he is the
number two man in the bank's most important department."

"Yes, and therefore my responsibility, because I am the number one man
in that department."

"No, William, it cannot remain your responsibility alone when Matthew
comes into the office drunk at eleven o'clock in the morning, no matter
how long and close your friendship ,has been."

"Don't exaggerate.. "I am not exaggerating, William.  For over a year
now this bank has been carrying Matthew Lester, and the only thing that
has stopped me mentioning my worries to you before is your close
personal relationship with him and his family.  I wouldn't be sorry to
see him hand in his resignation.  A bigger man would have done so long
ago, and his friends would have told him so."

"Never' said William.. "If he goes, I go."

"So be it, William," said Tony.. "My first responsibility is to our
investors, not to your old school chums."

"You'll live to regret that statement, Tony," said William, as he
stormed out of the chairman's office and returned to his own room in a
furious temper.

"Where is Mr.  Lester?" William demanded as he passed his secretary.

"He's not in yet, sir." William looked at his watch, exasperated.

"Yes, sir."

William paced up and down his office, cursing.  Everytime Tony Simmons
had said about Matthew was accurate, it only made matters worse.  He
began to think back to when it had all begun, searching for a simple
explanation.

thoughts were interrupted by his secretary.

"Mr.  Lester has just arrived, sir."

Matthew entered the room looking rather sheepish, playing all the signs
of another hangover.  He had aged b in the past year, and his skin had
lost its fine, athletic g William hardly recognised him as the man who
had bee! closest friend for nearly twenty years.

"Matthew, where the hell have you been?"

"I overslept," Matthew replied, uncharacteristic scratching at his face.

"Rather a late night, I'm afraid.. "You mean you drank too much."

"No, I didn't have that much.  It was a new girlfriend kept me awake all
night.  She was insatiable."

"When will you stop, Matthew?  Yove slept with n( every single woman in
Boston."

"Don't exaggerate, William.  There must be one or two at least I hope
so.  And then don't forget all the thousan( maed ones."

"It's not funny, Matthew."

"Oh, come on, William.  Give me a break."

"Give you a break?  I've just had Tony Simmons on back because of you,
and what's more I know he's r You'll jump into bed with anything wearing
a skirt, worse, you're drinking yourself to death.  Your judgment gone
to pieces.

Why, Matthew?  Tell me why.  There mu some simple explanation.  Up until
a year ago you , one of the most reliable men I have ever met in my What
is it, Matthew?  What am I supposed to say to Simmons?"

"Tell Simmons to go to hell and mind his own busines. "Matthew, be fair,
it is his business.  We are running a b not a bordello, and .  you came
here as a director on my

"And now I'm not measuring up to your standards, is that what you're
saying?"

"No, I'm not saying that."

"Then what the hell are you saying?"

"Buckle down and do some work for a few weeks.  In no time everyone will
have forgotten all about it."

"Is that all you want?"

"Yes,"said William.

"I shall do as you command, 0 Master," said Matthew, and he clicked his
heels and walked out of the door.

"Oh, hell," said William.

That afternoon William wanted to go over a client's portfolio with
Matthew but nobody seemed to be able to find him.  He had not returned
to the office after lunch and was not seen again that day.  Even the
pleasure of putting young Richard to bed in the evening could not
distract William from his worries about Matthew.  Richard could already
say two and William was trying to make him say three, but he insisted on
saying "tree'.

"If you can't say three, Richard, how can you ever hope to be a banker?"
William der.nanded of his son as Kate entered the nursery. "Perhaps
he'll end up doing something worthwhile," said Kate.

"What's more worthwhile than banking?" William enquired. "Well, he might
be a musician, or a baseball player, or even President of the United
States."

"Of those three I'd prefer him to be a ball player - it's the only one
of your suggestions that pays a decent salary," said William as he
tucked Richard into bed.

Richard's last words before sleeping were. "Tree, Daddy." William gave
in.  It wasn't his day.

"You look exhausted, darling.  I hope you haven't forgotten that we're
having drinks later with Andrew MacKenzie?"

"Hell, Andrew's party had totally slipped my mind.  What time is he ex
ectin ?I

"In about an hour.. "Well, first I'm going to take a long, hot bath.. "I
thought that was a woman's privilege," said Kate.

"Tonight I need a little pampering.  I've had a nerveracking day."

"Tony bothering you again?"

"Yes, but I am afraid this time he's in the right.  He's been
complaining about Matthew's drinking habits.  I was only thankful he
didn't mention the womanising.  It's become impossible to take Matthew
to any party nowadays without the eldest daughter, not to mention the
occasional wife, having to be locked away for their own safety.  Will
you run my bath?"

William sat in the tub for more than half an hour, and Kate had to drag
him out before he fell asleep.  Despite her prompting they arrived at
the MacKenzie's twenty-five minutes late, only to find that Matthew,
already well on the way to being inebriated, was trying to pick up a
congressman's wife.  William wanted to intervene, but Kate prevented him
from doing so.

"Don't say anything," she whispered. "I can't stand here and watch him
going to pieces in front of my eyes," said William.. "He's my closest
friend.

I have to do something."

But in the end he took Kate's advice and spent an unhappy evening
watching Matthew become progressively drunk.  Tony Simmons, from the
other side of the room, was lancing pointedly at William, who was
relieved at Mat9 thew's early departure, even though it was in the
company of the only unattached woman left at the party.  Once Matthew
had gone William started to relax for the first time that day.

"How is little Richard?" Andrew MacKenzie asked.

"He can't say "three"," said William.

"Might turn out to do something civilised after all," said Doctor
MacKenzie.

"Exactly what I thought," said Kate.. "What a good idea F r

"Pretty safe," said Andrew.  cdon't know many doctors vvlio can count
past two."

"Except when they send their bills," said William.

Andrew laughed.. "Will you have another drink, Kate?"

"No thank you, Andrew.  It's high time we went home.  If we stay any
longer, only Tony Simmons and William will be left, and they can both
count past two so we would all have to't3li,b,an.kjl)g Lber,-,91 of
tbenigbt."

"Agreed," said William.. "Thank you for a lovely party, Andrew.  By the
way, I must apologise for Matthew's behaviour."

"Why?" said Doctor MacKenzie.

cOh, come on, Andrew.  Not only was he drunk, but there wasn't a woman
in the room who felt safe left alone with him."

sa. "I might well do the same if I were in his predicament," d Andrew
MacKenzie.

"What makes you say that?" said William.. "You can't apProve of his
habits just because he's single."

"No, I don't, but I try to understand them and realise I might be a
little irresponsible faced with the same problem.. "What do you mean?"
asked Kate.

"My God," said Doctor MacKenzie.. "He's your closest friend, and he
hasn't told you?"

"Told us what?, they said together.

Dr.  MacKenzie stared at them botk a look of disbelief on his face.

"Come into my study."

William and Kate followed the doctor into a small room, lined almost
wall-to-wall with medical books, interspersed only with occasional,
sometimes unframed, photographs of student days at Cornell.

"Please have a seat, Kate," he said.. "William I make no apology for
what I am about to say, because I assumed you knew that Matthew was
gravely ill, dying, in fact, of Hodgkin's disease.  He has known about
his condition for over a year."

William fell back in his chair, for a moment unable to speak. "Hodgkin's
disease?"

"An almost invariably fatal inflammation and enlargement of the lymph
nodes," said the doctor rather formally.

William shook his head incredulously.. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"You've known each other since you were at school together.  My guess is
he's far too proud to burden anyone else with his problems.  He'd rather
die in his own way than let anyone realise what he's going through.  I
have begged him for the last six months to tell his father, and I have
certainly broken my professional promise to him by letting you know, but
I can't let you go on blaming him for something over which he has
absolutely no control.. "Thank you, Andrew," said William. "How can I
have been so blind and so stupid?"

"Don't blame yourself," said Doctor MacKenzie. "There's no way you could
have known."

"Is there really no hope?" asked William.. "Are there no clinics, no
specialists?  Money would be no problem

"Money can't buy everything, William, and I have consulted the three
best men in America, and one in Switzerland.  I am afraid they are all
in agreement with my diagnosis, and medical science hasn't yet
discovered a cure for Hodgkin's disease."

"How long has he got to live?" asked Kate in a whisper.

"Six months at the outside, more likely three.. "And I thought I had
problems," said William.  He held tightly on to Kate's hand as if it
were a lifeline.. "We must be going, Andrew.  Thank you for telling us."

"Help him in any way you can," said the doctor, "but for God's sake, be
understanding.  Let him do what he wants to do.  It's Matthew's last few
months, not yours.  And dot ever let him know I told you,"

William drove Kate home in silence.  As soon as they reached the Red
House, William called the girl Matthew had left the party with.

"Would it be possible to speak to Matthew Lester?"

"He's not here," said a rather irritable voice.. "He dragged me off to
the In and Out Club, but he was already drunk by the time we got there,
and I refused to go in that place with him." Then she hung up.

The In and Out Club.  William had a hazy recollection f having seen the
sign swinging from an iron bar but hoe couldn't remember exactly where
the place was.  He looked it up in the phone book, drove over to the
north side of town and eventually, after questioning a passer-by, he
found the club.  William knocked on the door.  A hatch slid back.

"Are you a member?"

"No," said William firmly, and passed a ten-dollar note through the
grill.

The hatch slid closed, and the door opened.  William walked on to the
middle of the dance floor, looking slightly incongruous in his
three-piece banker's suit, The dancers, twined around each other, swayed
incuriously away from him.  William's eyes searched the smoke-filled
room for Matthew, but he wasn't there.  Finally he thought he recognised
One Of Matthew's many recent casual girlfriends, whom he felt certain
he'd seen coming out of his friend's flat early one morning.  She was
sitting cross-legged in a corner with a sailor.  William went over to
her.

"Excuse me, miss," he said.

She looked up but obviously didn't recognise William.

"The lady's with me, so beat it," said the sailor.

"Have you seen Matthew Lester?)

"Matthew?" said the girl.. "Matthew who?"

"I told You to get lost," said the sailor, rising to his feet.

"One more word out of you, and I'll knock your block off,"said William.

The sailor had seen anger like that in a man's eyes once before in his
life and had nearly lost an eye for his trouble.  He sat back down.

"Where is Matthew?"

I I don't know a Matthew, darling." Now she, too, was frightened.

"Six-fect-two, blond hair, dressed like me, and probably drunk."

"Oh, you mean Martin.  He calls himself Martin here, darling, not
Matthew." She began to relax.. "Now let me see, who did he go off with
tonight?" She turned her head towards the bar and shouted at the
bartender.. "Terry, who did Martin go out with?"

The bartender removed a dead cigarette butt from the corner of his
mouth.. "Jenny," he said, and put the unlit cigarette back in place.

"Jenny, that's right," said the girl.. "Now let me see, she's short
sessions.  Never lets a man stay for more than half an hour, so they
should be back soon."

"Thank you,"said William.

He waited for almost an hour at the bar sipping a scotch with a lot of
water, feeling more and more out of place by the minutes Finally, the
bartender, the unlit cigarette still in his mouth, gestured to a girl
who was coming through the door.

"That's jenny," he said, Matthew was not with her.

The bartender waved for jenny to join them.  A slim, short, dark, not
unattractive girl, she winked at William and walked towards him swinging
her hips.

"Looking for me, darling?  Well, I am available, but I charge ten
dollars for half an hour."

"No, I don't want you,"said William.

"Charming," said jenny.

"I'm looking for the man whos been with you, Matthew I mean Martin."

"Martin, he was too drunk even to get it up with the help of a crane,
darling, but he paid his ten dollars, he always does.  A real
gentleman."

"Where is he now?" asked William impatiently.

"I don't know, he gave it up as a bad job and started walking home."

William ran into the street, The cold air hit him, not that he needed to
be awakened.  He drove his car slowly away from the club, following the
route towards Matthew's flat, looking carefully at each person he
passed.  Some hurried on when they saw his watchful eyes; others tried
to engage him in conversation.  When he was passing an all-night cafe,
he caught sight of Matthew through the steamy window, weaving his way
through the tables with a cup in his hand.

William parked the car, went in and sat down beside him.  Matthew had
slumped on to the table next to a cup of untouched spilt coffee.  He was
so drunk that he didn't even recognise William.

"Matthew, it's me," said William, looking at the crumpled man.  The
tears started to run down his cheeks.

Matthew looked up and spilled some more of his coffee.

"You're crying, old fellow.  Lost your girl, have you?"

"No, my closest friend,"said William.

"Ah, they're much harder to come by.. "I know,"said William.

"I have a good friend," said Matthew, slurring his words.. "He's always
stood by me until we quarrelled for the first time today.  My fault
though.  You see I've let him down rather badly."

"No you haven't,"said William.

"How can you know?" said Matthew angrily.. "You're not even fit to know
him."

"Let's go home, Matthew."

"My name is Martin,"said Matthew.

"I'm sorry, Martin, let's.  go home."

"No, I want to stay here.  There's this girl who may come by later.  I
think I'm ready for her now."

"I have some fine old malt whisky at my house," said William.. "Why
don't you join me?"

"Any women at your place?"

"Yes, plenty of them."

"You're on, I'll come.)

William hoisted Matthew up and put his arm under his shoulder, guiding
him slowly through the cafe towards the door.  It was the first time
he'd ever realised how heavy Matthew was.  As they passed two policemen
sitting at the corner of the counter, William heard one say to the
other. "Goddamn fairies."

He helped Matthew into the car and drove him back to Beacon Hill.  Kate
was waiting up for them.

"You should have gone to bed, darling."

"I couldn't sleep,"she replied.

"I'm afraid he's nearly incoherent."

Is this the girl you promised me?" said Matthew.

"Yes, she'll take care of you," said William, and he and Kate helped him
up to the guest room and put him on the bed.  Kate started to undress
him.

"You must undress as well, darling," he said.. "I've already paid my ten
dollars."

"When you're in bed," said Kate lightly.

"Why are you looking so sad, beautiful lady?" said Matthe%v.

"Because I love you," said Kate, tears beginning to form in her eves.

"Don't cry," said Matthew, "there's nothing to cry about.  lll manage it
this time, you'll see."

When they had undressed Matthew, William covered him with a sheet and a
blanket.  Kate turned the light out.

"You promised you'd come to bed with me," said Matthew, drowsily.

She closed the door quietly.

William slept on a chair outside Matthew's room for fear he might wake
up in the night and try to leave.  Kate woke him in the morning before
taking some breakfast into Mattliew.

"What am I doing here, Kate?" were Matthew's first words.

"You came back with us after Andrew MacKenzie's party last night,"
replied Kate rather feebly.

"No, I didn't.  I went to the In and Out with that awful girl, Patricia
something or other, who refused to come in vith me.  God, I feel lousy.
Can I have a tomato juice?  I don't want to be unsociable, but the last
thing I need is breakfast."

"Of course, Matthew."

William came in.  Matthew looked up at him.  They stared at each other
in silence.

"You know, don't you?" said Matthew finally.

"Yes," said William, "and I've been a fool and I hope you'll forgive
me."

"Don't cry, William.  I haven't seen you do that since you were twelve,
when Covington was beating you up and I had to drag him off you.
Remember?  I wonder what Covington is up to now?  Probably running a
brothel in Tijuana; it's about all he was fit for.  Mind you, if
Covington is running it, the place will be damned efficient, so lead me
to it.  Don't cry, William.  Grown men don't cry.  Nothing can be done.
I've seen all the specialists from New York to Los Angeles to Zurich,
and there is nothing they can do.  Do you mind if I skip the office this
morning?  I still feel bloody awful.  Wake me if I stay too long or if
I'm any more trouble, and I'll find my own way home."

"This is your home,"said William.

Matthew's face changed.. "Will you tell my father, William?  I can't
face him.  You're an only son, too; you understand the problem."

"Yes, I will," said William.. "I'll go down to New York tomorrow and
tell him if you'll promise to stay with Kate and me.  I won't stop you
from getting drunk if that's what you wish to do, or from having as many
women as-you want, but you must stay here."

,Best offer I've had in weeks, William.  Now I think I'll sleep some
more.  I get so tired nowadays."

William watched Matthew fall into a deep sleep and removed the half
empty glass from his hand.  A tomato stain was forming on the sheets.

"Don't die," he said quietly.. "Please don't die, Matthew.  Have you
forgotten that you and I are going to run the biggest bank in America?"

William went to New York the following morning to see Charles Lester.
The great man aged visibly at William's news and seemed to shrink into
his seat.

"Thank you for coming, William, and telling me personally.  I knew
something must be wrong when Matthew stopped his monthly visits to see
me.  I'll come up every weekend.  He will want to be with you and Kate,
and I'll try not to make it too obvious how hard I took the news.  God
knows what he's done to deserve this.  Since my wife died, I built
everything for Matthew, and now there is no one to leave it to.  Susan
has no interest in the bank."

"Come to Boston when ever you want to, sir.  You'll always be most
welcome."

"Thank you, William, for everything you're doing for Matthew."

The old man looked up at him.. "I wish your father were alive to see how
worthy his son is of the name Kane.

If only I could change places with Matthew, and let him live .  .  ."

"I ought to be getting back to him soon, sir."

"Yes, of course.  Tell him I took the news stoically.  Dot tell him
anything different.. "Yes, sir."

William travelled back to Boston that night to find that Matthew had
stayed at home with Kate and started reading America's latest best
seller, Gone With The Wind, as he sat out on the veranda.  He looked up
as William came through the French windows.

"How did the old man take it?"

"He cried," said William.

"The chairman of Lester's bank cried?" said Matthew.. "Never let the
shareholders know that."

Matthew stopped drinking and worked as hard as he could until the last
few days.  William was amazed by his determination and had continually
to make him slow down.  He was always on top of his work and would tease
William by checking his mail at the end of each day.  In the evenings
before a large dinner, Matthew would play tennis with William or row
against him on the river.. "I'll know I'm dead when I can't beat you,"
he mocked.

Matthew never entered the hospital, preferring to stay on at the Red
House.  The weeks went so slowly and yet so quickly for William, waking
each mori thing wondering if Matthew would still be alive.

Matthew died on a Thursday, forty pages still to read of Gone With The
Wind.

The funeral was held in New York, and William and Kate stayed with
Charles Lester.  In six months, he had become an old man, and as he
stood by the graves of his wife and only son, he told William that he no
longer saw any purpose in this life.  William said nothing; no words of
his could help the grieving father.  William and Kate returned to Boston
the next day.  The Red House seemed strangely empty without Matthew. The
past few months had been at once the happiest and unhappiest period in
William's life.  Death had brought him a closeness, both to Matthew and
to Kate, that normal life would never have allowed.

When William returned to the bank after Matthew's death, he found it
hard to get back into any sort of normal routine.  He would get up and
start to head towards Matthew's office for advice or a laugh, or merely
to be assured of his existence, but he was no longer there.  It was
weeks before William could prevent himself from doing this.

Tony Simmons was very understanding, but it didn't help.  William lost
all interest in banking, even in Kane and Cabot itself, as he went
through months of remorse over Matthew's death.  He had always taken it
for granted that he and Matthew would grow old together' and share a
common destiny.  No one commented that William's work was not up to its
usual high standard.  Even Kate grew worried by the hours William would
spend alone.

Then one morning she awoke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed
staring down at her.  She blinked up at him.. "Is something wrong,
darling?"

"No, I'm just looking at my greatest asset and making sure I don't take
it for granted."

By the end of 1932, with America still in the grip of a depression, Abel
was becoming a little apprehensive about the future of the Baron Group.
Two thousand banks had been closed during the past two years, and more
were shutting their doors every week.  Nine million people were still
unemployed, which had as its only virtue the assurance that Abel could
maintain a highly professional staff in his hotels.  Still, the Baron
Group lost seventy-two thousand dollars during a year in which he had
predicted that they would break even, and he began to wonder whether his
backer's purse and patience would hold out long enough to allow him the
chance to turn things around.

Abel had begun to take an active interest in American politics during
Anton Cermak's successful campaign to become mayor of Chicago.  Cermak
talked Abel into joining the Democratic Party, which had launched a
virulent campaign against Prohibition; Abel threw himself wholeheartedly
behind Cermak, as Prohibition had proved very damaging to the hotel
trade.  The fact that Cermak was himself an immigrant, from
Czechoslovakia, created an immediate bond between the two men, and Abel
was delighted to be chosen as a delegate representative at the
Democratic Convention held in Chicago that year where Cermak brought a
packed audience to its feet with the words . "It's true I didn't come
over on the Mayflower, but I came as soon as I could."

At the convention Cermak introduced Abel to Franklin D.  Roosevelt!- who
made a lasting impression on him.

F.D.R.  went on to win the Presidential election easily and he swept
Democratic candidates into office all over the country.  One of the
newly elected aldermen at Chicago City Hall was Henry Osborne.  When
Anton Cermak was killed a few weeks later in Miami by an assassin's
bullet intended foiF.D.R., Abel decided to contribute a considerable
amount o!

time and money to the cause of the Polish Democrats in Chicago.

During 1933 the group lost only twenty-three thousand dollars, and one
of the hotels, the St.  Louis Baron, actually showed a profit.  When
President Roosevelt had delivered his first fireside chat on 12 March,
exhorting his countrymen "to once again believe in America', Abel's
confidence soared and he decided to re-open the two hotels that he had
closed the previous year.

Zaphia grew querulous at his long absences in Charleston and Mobile,
while he took the two hotels out of mothballs.  She had never wanted
Abel to be more than the deputy manager of the Stevens, a level at which
she felt she could keep pace.  The pace was quickening as every month
passed, and she became conscious of falling behind Abel's ambitions and
feared he was beginning to lose interest in her.

She was also becoming anxious about her childlessness, and started to
see doctors who reassured her that there was nothing to prevent her from
becoming pregnant.  One offered the suggestion that Abel should also be
examined, but Zaphia demurred, knowing he would regard the very mention
of the subject as a slur on his manhood.  Finally, after the subject had
become so charged that it was difficult for them to discuss it at all,
Zaphia missed her period.

She waited hopefully for another month before saying anything to Abel or
even seeing the doctor again.  He confirmed that she was at last
pregnant.  To Abel's delight, Zaphia gave birth to a daughter, on New
Year's Day, 1934.  They named her Florentyna, after Abel's sister.  Abel
was besotted the moment he set eyes on the child and Zaphia knew from
that moment she could no longer be the first love of his life.  George
and Zaphia's cousin were the child's Kums, and Abel gave a traditional
ten-course Polish dinner on the evening of the christening.  Many gifts
were presented to the child, including a beautiful antique ring from
Abel's backer.  He returned the gift in kind when the Baron Group made a
profit of sixty-three thousand dollars at the end of the year.  Only the
Mobile Baron was still losing money.

After Florentyna's birth Abel found he was spending much more of his
time in Chicago which prompted him to decide that the time had come to
build a Baron there.  Hotels in the city were booming in the aftermath
of the World's Fair.  Abel intended to make his new hotel the flagship
of the group in memory of Davis Leroy.  The company still owned the site
of the old Richmond Hotel on Michigan Avenue, and although Abel had had
several offers for the land, he had always held out, hoping that one day
he would be in a strong enough financial position to rebuild the hotel.

The project required capital and Abel decided to use the seven hundred
and fifty thousand dollars he had eventually received from Great Western
Casualty for the old Chicago Richmond to start construction.  As soon as
his plans were formulated, he told Curtis Fenton of his intention, with
the sole reservation that if David Maxton did not want a rival to the
Stevens, Abel was willing to drop the whole project; he felt it was the
least he could do in the circumstances.

A few days later, Curtis Fenton advised him that his backer was
delighted by the idea o. "The Chicago Baron'.

It took Abel twelve months to build the new Baron.with a large helping
hand from Alderman Henry Osborne, who hurried through the permits
required from City Hall in the shortest possible time.  The building was
opened in 1936 by the mayor of the city, Edward J.  Kelly, who, after
the death of Anton Cermak, had become the prime organiser of the
Democratic machine.  In memory of Davis Leroy, the hotel had no twelfth
floor - a tradition Abel continued in every new Baron he built.

Both Illinois senators were also in attendance to address the two
thousand assembled guests.  The Chicago Baron was superb both in design
and construction.  Abel had wound up spending well over a million
dollars on the hotel, and it looked as though every penny had been put
td good use.  The public rooms were large and sumptuous with high stucco
ceilings and decorations in pastel shades of green, pleasant and
relaxing; the carpets were thick.  The dark green embossed. "B' was
discreet but ubiquitous, adorning everything from the flag that
fluttered on the top of the forty-two storey building to the neat lapel
of the most junior bellhop.

"This hotel already bears the hallmark of success," said J.  Hamilton
Lewis, the senior senator from Illinois, "because, my friends, it is the
man, not the building, who will always be known as "The Chicago
Baron"."Abel beamed with undisguised pleasure as the two thousand guests
roared their approval.

Abel's reply of acknowledgment was well turned and confidently
delivered, and it earned him a standing ovation.

He was beginning to feel very much at home among big businessmen and
senior politicians.  Zaphia hovered uncertainly in the background during
the lavish celebration : the occasion was a little too much for her. She
neither understood nor cared for success on Abel's scale; and even
though she could now afford the most expensive clothes, she still looked
unfashionable and out-of-place, and she was only too aware that it
annoyed Abel.  She stood by while Abel chatted with Henry Osborne.

"This must be the high point of your life," Henry was saying, slapping
Abel on the back.

"High point - I've just turned thirty," said Abel.  A camera flashed as
he placed an arm round Henry's shoulder.

Abel beamed, realising for the first time how pleasant it was to be
treated as a public figure.. "I'm going to put Baron hotels right across
the globe," he said, just loud enough for the reporter to hear.. "I
intend to be to America what C6sar Ritz was to Europe.  Stick with me,
Henry, and you'll enjoy the ride."

At breakfast the next morning, Kate pointed to a small item on page
seventeen of the Globe, reporting the opening of the Chicago Baron.

William smiled as he read the article.  Kane and Cabot had been foolish
not to listen when he had advised them to support the Richmond Group. It
pleased him that his own judgment on Rosnovski had turned out to be
right even though the bank had lost out on the deal.  His smile
broadened as he read the nicknam. "The Chicago Baron'.  Then, suddenly,
he felt sick.  He examined the accompanying photograph more closely, but
there was no mistake, and the caption confirmed his first impression:
"Abel Rosnovski, the chairman of the Baron Group talking with Mieczyslaw
Szymczak, a governor of the Federal Reserve Board, and Alderman Henry
Osborne."

William dropped the paper on to the breakfast table and thought for a
moment.  As soon as he arrived at his office, he called Thomas Cohen at
Cohen, Cohen and Yablons.

"It's been a long time, Mr.  Kane," were Thomas Cohen's first words.. "I
was very sorry to learn of the death of your friend, Matthew Lester. How
are your wife and your son Richard - isn't that his name?"

William always admired Thomas Cohen's instant recall of names and
relationships.

"Yes, it is.  They're both well, thank you, Mr.  Cohen.. "Well, what can
I do for you this time, Mr.  Kane?" Thomas also remembered that William
could only manage about one sentence of small talk.

"I want to employ, through you, the services of a reliable investigator.
I do not wish my name to be associated with this enquiry, but I need
another run-down on Henry Osborne.  Everything he's done since he left
Boston, and in particular whether there is any connection between him
and Abel Rosnovski of the Baron Group."

There was a pause before the lawyer said. "Yes."

"Can you report to me in one week?"

"Two please, Mr.  Kane, two,"said Mr.  Cohen.

c Full report on my desk at the bank in two weeks, Mr.  ohen?"

"Two weeks, Mr.  Kane."

Thomas Cohen was as reliable as ever, and a full report was on William's
desk on the fifteenth morning.

William read the dossier with care.  There appeared to be no formal
business connections between Abel Rosnovski and Henry Osborne.
Rosnovski, it seemed, found Osborne useful as a Political contact, but
nothing more.

Osborne himself had bounced from job to job since leaving Boston, ending
u in p the main office of the Great Western Casualty Insurance Company.
In all probability, that was how Osborne had come in contact with Abel
Rosnovski, as the old Chicago Richmond had always been insured by Great
Western.  When the hotel burned down, the insurance company had
originally refused to pay the claim.  A certain Desmond Pacey, the
manager, had been sent to prison for ten years, after pleading guilty to
arson, and there was some suspicion that Abel Rosnovski might himself
have been involved.

Nothing was proved, and the insurance company settled later for
threequarters of a million dollars.  Osborne, the report went on, is now
an alderman and full-time politician at - City Hall, and it is common
knowledge that he hopes to become a congressman for Chicago.  He has
recently married a Miss Marie Axton, the daughter of a wealthy drug
manufacturer, and as yet they have no children.

William went over the report again to be sure that he had not missed
anything, however inconsequential.  Although there did not seem to be a
great deal to connect the two rn -n, he couldn't help feeling that the
association between Abel Rosnovski and Henry Osborne, both of whom hated
him, for totally disparate reasons, was potentially dangerous to him. He
mailed a chequc to Thomas Cohen and requested that he update the file
every quarter, but as the months passed, and the quarterly reports
revealed nothing new, he began to stop worrying, thinking perhaps he had
overreacted to the photograph in the Boston Globe.

Kate presented her husband with a daughter in the spring of 1937, whom
they christened Virginia.  William started changing nappies again, and
such was his fascination for "the little lady' that Kate had to rescue
the child each night for fear she would never get any sleep.  Richard,
now two and a half, didn't care too much for the new arrival to begin
with, but time and a new wooden soldier on a horse, combined to allay
his jealousy.

By the end of the year, William's department at Kane and Cabot had made
a handsome profit for the bank.  He had emerged from the lethargy that
had overcome him on Matthew's death and was fast regaining his
reputation as a shrewd investor in the stock market, not least when
'sell "em shore Smith admitted he had only perfected a technique
developed by William Kane of Boston.  Even Tony Simmons' direction had
become less irksome.  Nevertheless, William was secretly worried by the
prospect that he could not become chairman of Kane and Cabot until
Simmons retired in seventeen years' time, and he began to consider
looking around for employment in another bank.

William and Kate had taken to visiting Charles Lester in New York about
once a month at weekends.  The great man had grown very old over the
three years since Matthew's death, and rumours in financial circles were
that he had lost all interest in his work and was rarely seen at the
bank.  William was beginning to wonder how much longer the old man would
live, and then a few weeks later he died.  William travelled down to the
funeral in New York.  Everyone seemed to be there including the
Vice-President of the United States, John Nance Garner.  After the
funeral, William and Kate took the train back to Boston, numbly
conscious that they had lost their last link with the Lester family.

It was some six months later that William received a communication from
Sullivan and Cromwell, the distiiguished New York lawyers, asking him if
he would be kind enough to attend the reading of the will of the late
Charles Lester at their offices in Wall Street. William went to the
reading, more from loyalty to the Lester family than from any curiosity
to know what Charles Lester had left him.

He hoped for a small memento that would remind him of Matthew and join
th. "Harvard Oar' that still hung on the wall of the guest room of the
Red House.  He also looked forward to the opportunity of renewing his
acquaintance with many members of the Lester family whom he had come to
know in school and college holidays spent with Matthew.

Willing-qM dfove down to Aew Vork in " newly acquired Daimler the night
before the reading and stayed at the Harvard Club.  The will was to be
read at ten o'clock the following morning, and William was surprised to
find on his arrival in the offices of Sullivan and Cromwell that over
fifty people were already present.  Many of them glanced up at William
as he entered the room, and he greeted several of Matthew's cousins and
aunts, looking rather older than he remembered t I hem; he could only
conclude that they must be thinking the same about him.  His eyes
searched for Matthew's sister Susan, but he couldn't see her.  At ten
o'clock precisely Mr.  Arthur Croznwell entered the room, accompanied by
an assistant carrying a brown leather folder.  Everyone fell silent in
hopeful expectation.  The lawyer began by explaining to the assembled
would-be beneficiaries that the contents of the will had not been
disclosed until six months after Charles Lester's death at Mr.  Lester's
specific instruction: having no son to Whom to leave his fortune he had
wanted the dust to settle after his death before his final intentions
were made clear.

William looked around the room at the intent faces which were hanging on
every syllable issuing from the lawyes mouth.  Arthur Cromwell took
nearly an hour to read the will- After reciting the usual bequests to
family retainers, charities and Harvard University, Cromwell went on to
reveal that Charles Lester had divided his personal fortune among all
his relatives, treating them more or less according to their degree of
kinship.  His daughter, Susan, received the largest share of the estate
while the five nephews and three neices each received an equal portion
of the rest.  All their money and shares were to be held in trust by the
bank until they were thirty.  Several other cousins, aunts and distant
relations were given immediate cash payments.

William was surprised when Mr.  Cromwell annouced. "That disposes of all
the known assets of the late Charles Lester."

People began to shuffle around in their seats, as a murmur of nervous
conversation broke out.  No one wanted to adniit that the unfortunate
death had made them fortunate.

"That is not, however, the end of Mr.  Charles Lester's last will and
testament," said the imperturbable lawyer, and everyone sat still again,
fearful of some late and unwelcome thunderbolt.

Mr.  Cromwell went on.. "I sball now continue in Mr.  Charles Lester's
own words: "I have always considered that a bank and its reputation are
only as good as the people who serve it.  It was well known that I had
hoped my son Matthew would succeed me as chairman of Lester's, but his
tragic and untimely death has intervened.  Until now, I have never
divulged my choice of successor for Lester's bank.  I therefore wish it
to be known that I desire William Lowell Kane, son of one of my dearest
friends, the late Richard Lowell Kane, and at present the vice-chairman
of Kane and Cabot, be appointed chain-nan of Lester's Bank and Trust
Company following the next full board meeting."

'

There was an immediate uproar.  Everyone looked around the room for the
mysterious Mr.  William Lowell Kane of whom few but the immediate Lester
family had ever heard.

"I have not yet finished," said Arthur Cromwell quietly.

Silence fell once more, as the members of the audience, anticipating
another bombshell, exchanged fearful glances.

The lawyer continued.. "All the above grants and division of shares in
Lester's and Company are expressly conditional upon the beneficiaries
voting for Mr.  Kane at the next annual F

board meeting, and continuing to do so for at least the following five
years, unless Mr.  Kane himself indicates that he does not wish to
accept the chairmanship."

Uproar broke out again.  William s-bed he was a million miles away, not
sure whether to be deliriously happy or to concede that he must be the
most detested person in that room.

"That concludes the last will and testament of the late Charles Lester,"
said Mr.  Cromwell, but only the front row heard him.

William looked up.  Susan Lester was walking towards him.  The Puppy fat
had disappeared while the attractive freckles remained.  He smiled, but
she walked straight past him without even acknowledging his presence.
William frowned, Ignoring the babble, a tall, grey-haired man wearing a
Pin-striped suit and a silver tie moved quickly towards William.

"You are William Kane, are you not, Sir?"

"Yes, I am,"said William nervously.

"My name is Peter Parfitti'said the stranger.

"The bank's vice-chairman," said William.

"Correct, Sir," he said.. "I do not know you, but I do know something of
your reputation, and I count myself lucky to have been acquainted with
your distinguished father.  If Charles Lester thought you were the right
man to be chairman of his bank, thaes gdcd enough for me." William had
never been so relieved in his life.

"Where are you staying in New York?) continued Peter Parlitt before
William could reply.

"At the Harvard Club."

"Splendid.  May I ask if you are free for dinner tonight by any chance?"

"I had intended to return to Boston this evening," said William, "but I
expect I shall now have to stay in New York for a few days.. "Good.  Why
don't you come to my house for dinner, say about eight o'clock?"

The banker banded William his card with an address erni)ossed in
copperplate script.. "I shall enjoy the opportunity of chatting with you
in more convivial surroundings."

"Thank you, sir," said William, pocketing the card as others began
crowding around him.  Some stared at him in hostility; others waited to
express their congratulations.

When William eventually managed to make his escape and returned to the
Harvard Club, the first thing he did was to call Kate and tell her the
news.

She said very quietly. "How happy Matthew would be for you, darling.. "I
know," said William.

"When are you coming home?"

"God knows.  I'm dining tonight with a Mr.  Peter Parfitt who is a
vice-chairman of Lester's.  He's being most helpful over the whole
affair, which is making life much easier.  I'll spend the night here at
the club, and then call you sometime tomorrow to let you know how things
are working out.. "All right, darling.. "All quiet on the Eastern
seaboard?"

"Well, Virginia has cut a tooth and seems to think she deserves special
attention, Richard was sent to bed early for being rude to Nanny, and we
all miss you." William laughed.. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yes, please do.  By the way, many congratulations.  I aprove of Charles
Lester's judgment even if I'm going to hate p living in New York."

It was the first time William had thought about living in New York.

William arrived at Peter Parfitt's home on East Sixty-fourth Street at
eight o'clock that night and was taken by surprise to find his host had
dressed for dinner.  William felt slightly embarrased and ill at east in
his dark banker's suit.  He quickly explained to his hostess that he had
originally anticipated returning to Boston that evening.  Diana Parfitt,
who turned out to be Peter's second wife, could not have been more
charming to her guest, and she seemed delighted that William was to be
the next chairman of Lestet's.  During at! excellent dinner William
could not resist asking Peter Parfitt how he thought the rest of the
board would react to Charles Lester's wishes.

"They'll all fall in lines said Parfitt.  cl've spoken to most of them
already.  Theresa full board meeting on Monday morning to confirm your
appointment and I can only see one small cloud on the horizons

"What's that?" said William, trying not to sound anxious.

"Well between you and me, the other vice-chairman, Ted Leach, was rather
expecting to be appointed chairman himself.  In fact, I think I would go
as far as saying that he anticipated it.  We had all been informed that
no nomination could be made until after the will had been read, but
Charles Lester's wishes must have come as rather a shock to Ted.. "Will
he put up a fight?" asked Williara.

"I'm afraid h might, but there's nothing for you to worry about.. "I
don't mind admitting," said Diana Parfitt, as she studied the rather
flat souffl6 in front of her, "that he has never been my favourite man."

"Now, dear," said Parfitt reprovingly, gwe mustn't say anything behind
Ted's back before Mr.  Kane has had a chance to judge for himself. There
is no doubt in my mind that the board will confirm Mr.  Kane's
appointment at the meeting on Monday, and there! will resign." s even
the possibility that Ted Leach

"I don't want anyone to feel they have to resign because of me,"said
William.  '

"A very creditable sentiment," said Paz-fitt.. "But don't bother
yourself about a Puff of wind.  I'm confident that the whole matter is
well under control.  You go quietly back to Boston tomorrow, and I'll
keep you informed on the lay of the land."

"Perhaps it might be wise if I dropped in at the bank in the morning.
Won't your fellow officers find it a little curious if I make no attempt
to meet any of them?"

"No, I don't think that would be advisable given the circumstances.  In
fact, I feel it might be wiser for you to stay out of their way until
the Monday board meeting is over.

They won't want to seem any less independent than necessary, and they
may already fe I like glorified rubber stamps.

Take my advice, Bill, you g I o back to Boston, and I'll call you with
the good news before noon on Monday."

William reluctantly agreed to Peter Parfitt's suggestion and went on to
spend a pleasant evening discussing with both of them where he and Kate
might stay in New York while they were looking for a permanent home.
William was somewhat surprised to find that Peter Parfitt seemed to have
no desire to discuss his own views on banking, and he assumed the reason
was because of Diana Parfitt's presence.  An excellent evening ended
with a little too much brandy, and William did not arrive back at the
Harvard Club until after one o'clock.

Once William had returned to Boston he made an immediate report to Tony
Simmons of what had transpired in New York as he did not want him to
hear about the appointment from anyone else.  Tony turned out to be
surprisingly sanguine about the news.

"I'm sorry to learn that you will be leaving us, William.  Lester's may
well be two or three times the size of Kane and Cabot, but I shall be
unable to replace you, and I hope you'll consider very carefully before
accepting the appointment."

William was surprised and couldn't help showing it.. "Frankly, Tony, I
would have thought you'd have been only too glad to see the back of me."

"William, when will you ever believe that my first interest has always
been the bank, and there has never been any doubt in my mind that you
are one of the shrewdest investment advisers in America today?  If you
leave Kane and Cabot now, many of the bank's most important clients will
naturally want to follow you."

"I would never transfer my own money to Lester's," said William, "any
more than I would expect any of the bank's

"Of course you wouldn't solicit them to join you, William, clients to
move with me."

but some of them will want you to continue managing their portfolios.
Like your father and Charles Lester, they believe quite rightly that
banking is about people and reputations." William and Kate spent a tense
weekend waiting for Monday and the result of the board meeting in New
York.  William sat nervously in his office the whole of Monday morning,
answering every telephone call personally, but he heard nothing as the
morning dragged into the afternoon.  He didn't even leave the office for
lunch, and Peter Parfitt finally called a little after six.

"I'm afraid there's been some unexpected trouble, Bill,, were his
opening words.

William's heart sank.

"Nothing for you to worry about since I still feel I have the .situation
well under control, but the board wants the right to oppose your
nomination with their own candidate.  Some of them have produced legal
opinions that go as far as saying the relevant clause of the will has no
real validity.  I've been given the unpleasant task of asking if you
would be willing to fight an election against the board's candidate."

"Who would be the board's candidate?" asked William.

"No names have been mentioned by anyone yet, but I imagine their choice
will be Ted Leach.  No one else has shown the slightest interest in
running against you."

"I'd like a little time to think about it," William replied.. "When will
the next board meeting be?"

"A week from today," said Parfitt.. "But don't you go and get yourself
all worked up about Ted Leach; I'm still confident that you will win
easily, and I'll keep you informed of any further developments as the
week goes by."

"Do you want me to come down to New York, peter?"

"No, not for the moment.  I don't think that would help matters."

William thanked him and put the phone down.  He packed his old leather
briefcase and left the office, feeling more than a little depressed.
Tony Simmons, carrying a suitcase, caught up with him in the private
parking lot.

"I didn't know you were going out of town, Tony."

"It's only the monthly bankers' dinner in New York.  I'll be back by
tomorrow afternoon.  I think I can safely leave Kane and Cabot for
twenty-four hours in the capable hands of the next chairman of
Lester's."

William laughed.. "I may already be the ex-chairman," he said and
explained the latest development.  Once again, William was surprised by
Tony Simmons' reaction.

"It's true that Ted Leach has always expected to be the next chairman of
Lester's," he mused.. "That's common knowledge in financial circles. But
he's a loyal servant of the bank, and I can't believe he would oppose
Charles Lester's expr I ess wishes."

"I didn't realise you even knew him," said William.

"I dot know him all that well," said Tony.. "He was a class ahead of me
at Yale, and now I see him from time to time at these damned bankers'
dinners that you'll have to attend when you're a chairman.  He's bound
to be there tonight.  I'll have a word with him if you like."

"Yes, please do, but be very careful, won't you?" said William.

"My dear William, you've spent nearly ten years of your life telling me
I'm far too careful."

"I'm sorry, Tony.  Funny how one's judgment is impaired when one is
worrying about one's own problems, however sound the same judgment might
be considered when deal.  with other peoples'.  I'll put myself in your
hands and doing whatever you advise."

"Good then, you leave it to me.  I'll see what Leach has to say for
himself and call you first thing in the morning."

Tony called from New York a few minutes after midnight and woke William
from a deep sleep.

"Have I woken you, William?"

"Yes, who is it?"

"Tony Simmons."

William switched on the light by his side of the bed and looked at his
alarm clock.  Ten minutes past twelve.

"Well, you d I id say you would call first thing in the morning."

Tony laughed.. "I'm afraid what I have to tell you won't seem quite so
funny.  The man who is opposing you for chairman of Lester's Bank is
Peter Parfitt.. "What?" said William, suddenly awake.

"He's been trying to push the board into supporting him behind your
back.  Ted Leach, as I expected, is in favour of your appointment as
chairman, but the board is now split down the middle."

"Hell.  First, thank you, Tony, and second, what do I do now?"

"If you want to be the next chairman of Lester's, you'd better get down
here fast before the members of the board wonder why you're hiding away
in Boston."

"Hiding away?"

"That's what Parfitt has been telling the directors for the past few
days."

"The bastard."

"Now that you mention the subject, I am unable to vouch for his
parentage," said Tony.

William laughed.

"Come and stay at the Yale Club.  Then we can talk the Whole thing out
first thing in the morning.. "I'll be there as quickly as I can," said
William.

"I may be asleep when you arrive.  Iell be your turn to wake me."

William put the phone down and looked over at Kate, b lissful]Y
oblivious to his new problems.  She had slept right through the entire
conversation.  How he wished he could i,nanage that.  A curtain had only
to flutter in the breeze, and he was awake.  She would probably sleep
right through the Second Coming.  He scribbled a few lines of
explanation to her and put the note on her bedside table, dressed,
packed this time including a dinner jacket - and set off for New York.

The roads were clear and the run in the new Daimler took him only five
hours.  He drove into New York with cleaners, mailmen, newsboys, and the
morning sun, and checked in at the Yale Club as the hall clock chimed
once.

It was six-fifteen.  He unpacked and decided to rest for an hour before
waking Tony.  The next thing he heard was an insistent tapping on his
door.  Sleepily, he got up to open it only to find Tony Simmons standing
outside.

"Nice dressing gown, William," said Tony, grinning.  He was fully
dressed.

91 must have fallen asleep.  If you wait a minute, I'll be right with
you,"said William.

"No, no, I have to catch a train back to Boston.  You take a shower and
get yourself dressed while we talk." William went into the bathroom and
left the door open.

"Now your main problem.  .  ."started Tony, William put his head around
the bathroom door.. "I cat hear you while the water's running."

Tony waited for it to stop.. "Peter Parfitt is your main problem.  He
assumed he was going to be the next chairman, and that his would be the
name that was read out in Charles Lester's will.  He's been manoeuvring
the directors against you and playing board-room politics ever since.
Ted Leach can fill you in on the finer details and would like you to
join him for lunch today at the Metropolitan Club.  He may bring two or
three other board members with him on whom you can rely.  The board, by
the way, still seems to be split right down the middle." William nicked
himself with his razor.. "Damn.  Which club?"

"Metropolitan, just off Fifth Avenue on East Sixtieth Street.

"Why there and not somewhere down in Wall Street?"

"William, when you're dealing with the Peter Parfitts of this world, you
don't telegraph your intentions.  Keep your wits about you, and play the
whole thing very coolly.

From what Leach tells me, I believe you can still win."

William came back into the bedroom with a towel round his waist.. "I'll
try," he said, "to be cool, that is '

Tony smiled.. "Now, I must get back t. "Boston.  My train leaves Grand
Central in ten minutes." He looked at his watch.. "Damn, six minutes."

Tony paused at the bedroom door.. "You know, your fatheinever trusted
Peter Parfitt.  Too smooth, he always used t say.  Never anything more,
just a little too smooth." He picker-] up his suitcase.. "Good luck,
William."

"How can I begin to thank you, Tony?"

"You can't.  Just put it down to my trying to atone for the lousy way I
treated Matthew."

William watched the door close as he put in his collar stud and then
straightened his tie, reflecting on how curious it was that he had spent
years working closely with Tony Simmons without ever really getting to
know him but that now, in only a few days of personal crisis, he found
himself instantly liking and trusting a man he had never before really
seen.  He went down to the dining room and had a typical club breakfast
: a cold boiled egg, one piece of hard toast, butter and English
marmalade from someone else's table.  The porter handed him a copy of
the Wall Street journal, which hinted on an inside page that everything
was not running smoothly at Lester's following the nomination of William
Kane as their next chairman.  At least, the journal did not seem to have
any inside information.

William returned to his room and asked the operator for a -number in
Boston.  He was kept waiting for a few minutes before he was put
through.

"I do apologise, Mr.  Kane.  I had no idea that you were on the line.
Mav I congratulate you on your appointment as chairman of hester's.  I
hope this means that our New York office will be seeing a lot more of
you in the future.. "That may well depend on you, Mr.  Cohen.. "I don't
think I quite understand," the lawyer replied.

William explained what had happened over the past few days and read out
the relevant section of Charles Lester9s will.

Thomas Cohen spent some time taking down each word and then going over
his notes carefully.

"Do you think his wishes would stand up in court?" asked William.

"Who knows?  I can't think of a precedent for such a situa-i:ion.  A
nineteenth-century Member of Parliament once bequeathed his constituency
in a will, and no one objected, and the beneficiary went on to become
Prime Minister.

But that was over a hundred years ago - and in England.  Now in this
case, if the board decided to contest Mr.  Lester's will, and you took
their decision to court, I wouldn't care to predict which way the judge
might jump.  Lord Melbourne didn't have to contend with a surrogate of
New York County.  Nevertheless, a nice legal conundrum, Mr. Kane:

"What do you advise?" gaid William.

"I am a Jew, Mr.  Kane.  I came to this country on a ship from Germany
at the turn of the century, and I have always had to fight hard for
anything I've wanted.  Do you want to be chairman of Lester's that
badly?"

"Yes, Mr.  Cohen, I do."

"Then you must listen to an old man who has, over the years, come to
view you with great respect, and if I may say so, with some affection,
and I'll tell you exactly what I'd do if I were faced with your
predicament."

An hour later William put the phone down, and having some time to kill,
he strolled up Park Avenue.  Along the way, he passed a site on which a
huge building was well into construction.  A large, neat billboard
announce. "The next Baron Hotel will be in New York.  When the Baron has
been your host, you'll never want to stay anywhere else." William smiled
for the first time that morning and walked with a lighter step towards
the Metropolitan Club.

Ted Leach, a short dapper man with dark brown hair and a lighter
mustache, was standing in the foyer of the club, waiting for him.  He
ushered William into the bar.  William admired the Renaissance style of
the club, built by Otto Kuhn and Standford White in 1894.  J.  P. Morgan
had founded the club when one of his closest friends was black-balled at
the Union League.

"A fairly extravagant gesture even for a very close friend," Ted Leach
suggested, trying to make conversation.

"What will you have to drink, Mr.  Kane?"

"A dry sherry, please," said William.

A boy in a smart blue uniform returned a few moments later with a dry
sherry and a scotch and water; he hadn't needed to ask Mr.  Leach for
his order.

"To the next chairman of Lester's,) said Ted Leach, raising his glass.

William hesitated.

"Don't drink, Mr.  Kane.  As you know, you should never drink to
yourself."

William laughed, unsure how to reply.

A few minutes later two older men were walking towards them, both tall
and confident in the bankers' uniform of grey tree- piece suits, stiff
collars and dark unpatterned ties.  Had they been strolling down Wall
Street, William would not have given them a second glance.  In the
Metropolitan Club he studied them carefully.

"Mr.  Alfred Rodgers and Mr.  Winthrop Davies," said Ted Leach as he
introduced them.

William smiled reservedly, still unsure whose side anyone was on.  The
two newcomers were studying him equally carefully.  No one spoke for a
moment.

"Where do we start?" said the one called Rodgers, a monocle falling from
his eye as he spoke.

"By going on up to lunch," said Ted Leach.

The three of them turned around, obviously knowing exactly where they
were going.  William followed.  The dining room on the second floor was
vast, with another magnificent high ceiling.  The maitre d' placed them
in the window seat, overlooking Central Park, were no one could overhear
their Conversation.

"Let's order and then talk," said Ted Leach.

Through the window William could see the Plaza Hotel.  Memories of his
graduation celebration with the grandmothers and Matthew came flooding
back to him - and there was something else he was trying to recall about
that tea at the Plaza ...

"Mr.  Kane, let's put our cards on the table," said Ted Leach.. "Charles
Lester's decision to appoint you as chairman of the bank came as a
surprise, not to put too fine a point on it.  But if the board ignores
his wishes, the bank could be plunged into chaos and that is an outcome
none of us needs.  He was a shrewd old man, and he will have had his
reasons for wanting you as the bank's next chairman, and thaes good
enough f or me."

William had heard those words before - from Peter Par fitt.

"All three of us," said Winthrop Davies, taking over, "owe everything we
have to Charles Lester, and we will carry out his wishes if it's the
last thing we do as members of the board.. "It may turn out to be just
that," said Ted Leach, "if Peter Parfitt does succeed in becoming
chairman."

"I'm sorry, gentlemen," said William, "to have caused so much
consternation.  If my appointment as chairman came as a surprise to you,
I can assure you it was nothing less than a bolt from the blue for me. I
imagined I would receive some minor personal memento of Matthew's from
Charles Lester's will, not the responsibility of running the entire
bank."

"We understand the position yove been placed in, Mr.  Kane," said Ted
Leach, "and you must trust us when we say we are here to help you.  We
are aware that you will find that difficult to believe after the
treatment that has been meted out to you by Peter Parfitt and the
tactics he has been using behind your back to try and secure the chair
for himself."

"I have to believe you, Mr.  Leach, because I have no choice but to
place myself in your hands and seek your advice as to how you view the
current situation."

"Thank you," said Leach.. "That situation is clear to me.  Peter
Parfitt's campaign is well organised, and he now feels he is acting from
a position of strength.  We, therefore.  Mr.  Kane, must be entirely
open with each other if we are to have any chance of beating him, I am
assuming, of course, that you have the stomach for such a fight."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't, Mr.  Leach.  And now that you have put
the position so succinctly, perhaps you will allow me to suggest how we
should go about defeating Mr.  Parfitt."

"Certainly," said Ted Leach.

All three men listened intently.

"You are undoubtedly right in saying that Parfitt feels he is now in a
strong position because to date he has always been the one on the
attack, always knowing what is going to happen next.  Might I suggest
that the time has come for us to reverse that trend and take up the
attack ourselves where and when he least expects it in his own board
room."

"How do you propose we go about that, Mr.  Kane?" enquired Winthrop
Davies, looking somewhat surprised.

"I'll tell you if you will first permit me to ask you some questions.
How many full-time executive directors are there with a vote on the
board?"

"Sixteen," said Ted Leach instantly.

"And with whom does their allegiance lie at this moment?" William asked.

"Not the easiest question to answer, Mr.  Kane," Winthrop Davies chipped
in.  He took a crumpled envelope from his inside pocket and studied the
back of it before he continued.. "I think we can count on six sure
votes, and Peter Parfitt can be certain of five.  It came as a shock for
me to discover this morning that Rupert Cork-Smith, who was Charles
Lester's closest friend, is unwilling to support you, Mr.  Kane.  Really
strange, because I know he doesn't care for Parfitt.  I think that may
make the voting six apiece."

"That gives us until Thursday," added Ted Leach, "to find out how the
other four board members are likely to react to your appointment."

"Why Thursday?" asked William.

"Day of the next board meeting," answered, Leach stroking his mustache,
which William had noticed he always did when he started to speak.. "And
more important, Item One on the agenda is the election of a new
chairman.. "I was told the next meeting would not take place until
Monday,"said William in astonishment.

"By whom?" Davies asked.

"Peter Parfitt,"said WilliarL

"His tactics," Ted Leach commented, "have not been altogether those of a
gentleman."

"I've learned enough about that gentleman," William said, placing an
ironic stress on the words, "to make me realise that I shall have to
take the battle to him."

"Easier said than done, Mr.  Kane.  He is very much in the driver's seat
at this moment," said Winthrop Davies, "and I'm not sure how we go about
removing him from it."

"Switch the traffic lights to red," replied William.. "Who has the
authority to call a board meeting?"

"While the board is without a chairman, either vice-chairnian," said Ted
Leach.. "Which in reality means Peter Parfitt or myse if.. "How many
board members form a quorum?"

"Nine," said Davies.

"And if you are one of the two vice-chairmen, Mr.  Leach, who is the
company secretary?"

"I am," said Alfred Rodgers, who until then had hardly opened his mouth,
the exact quality William always looked for in a company secretary.

"How much notice do you have to give to call an emergency board meeting,
Mr.  Rodgers?"

"Every director must be informed at least twenty-four hours beforehand
although that has never actually happened except during the crash of
twenty-nine.  Charles Lester always tried to give at least three days'
notice."

"But the bank's rules do allow for an emergency meeting to be held on
twenty-four hours notice?" asked William.

"They do, Mr.  Kane," Alfred Rodgers affirmed, his monocle now firmly in
place and focused on William.

"Excellent, then let's call our own board meeting."

The three bankers stared at William as if they had not quite heard him
clearly.

"Think about it, gentlemen," William continued.. "Mr.  Leach, as
vice-chairman, calls the board meeting and Mr.  Rodgers, as company
secretary, informs all the directors.. "When would you want this board
meeting to take place?" asked Ted Leach.

36i

"Tomorrow afternoons William looked at his watch.

"Three o'clock."

"Good God, that's cutting it a bit fine," said Alfred

"Cutting it very fine for Peter Parfitt) wouldn't you say?" said
William.

"That's true' said Ted Leach, "if you know precisely what you have
planned for the meeting?"

"You leave the meeting to me.  just be sure that it's correctly convened
and that every director is properly informed.. "I wonder how Peter
P-arfitt is going to react," said Ted Leach.

c t.  Don't worry about Parfitt, said William.. "That's the miske we've
made all along.  Let him start to worry about us for a change.  As long
as he is given the full twenty-four hours notice and he's the last
director informed, we have nothing to fear.  We don9t want him to have
any more time than necessary to stage a counter-attack, And gentlemen,
do not be surprised by anything I do or say tomorrow. Trust my judgment,
and be there to support me."

"YOU don't feel we ought to know exactly what you have in mind?"

"No, Mr.  Leach, you must appear at the meeting as disinterested
directors doing no more than carrying out your duty."

It was beginning to dawn on Ted Leach and his two colleagues why Charles
Lester had chosen William Kane to be their next chairman.  They left the
Metropolitan Club a good deal more confident than when they had arived,
despite their being totally in the dark as to what would actually happen
at the board meeting they were about to instigate. William, on the other
hand, having carried out the first part of Thomas Cohen's instructions,
was now looking forward to Pulling off the harder second part.

He spent most of the afternoon and evening in his room at the Yale Club,
meticulously considering his tactics for the next day's meeting and
taking only a short break to call Kate.

Rodgers.. "I'm not sure .... "Poor girl," said Kate.. "She probably
doesn't know the half

"Where are you, darling?" she said.. "Stealing away in the middle of the
night to I know not where."

"To my mistress in New York," said William.

of it.  What's her advice on the devious Mr.  Parfitt?"

"Havet had time to ask her, we've been so busy doing other things. While
I have you on the phone, what's your advice?"

"Do nothing Charles Lester or your father wouldn't have done in the same
circumstances," said Kate, suddenly serious.

"They're probably playing golf together on the eighteenth cloud and
taking a side bet watching us the whole time.. "Whatever you do,
William, you won't go far wrong if you do remember they are watching
you."

When dawn broke, William was already awake, having only managed to sleep
for short, fitful intervals.  He rose a little after , had a cold
shower, went for a long walk through Central Park to clear his head, and
returned to the Yale Club for a light breakfast.  There was a message
waiting for him in the front hall - from his wife.  William laughed when
he read it for a second time at the line. "If yotere not too busy could
you remember to buy Richard a baseball glove." William picked up the
Wall Street journal which was still running the story of trouble in the
Lester's board room over the selection of a new chairman.  It now had
Peter Parfitt's version of the story, hinting that his appointment as
chairman would probably be confirmed at Thursday's meeting.  William
wondered whose version would be reported in tomorrow's paper.  Oh, for a
look at tomorrow's journal now.  He spent the morning double checking
the articles of incorporation and by-laws of Lester's Bank.  He had no
lunch but did find time to visit Schwalts and buy a baseball glove for
his son.

At two-thirty William took a cab to the bank on Wall Street and arrived
a few minutes before three.  The young doorman asked him if he had an
appointment to see anyone.

"I'm William Kane."

"Yes, sir; you'll want the board room."

Good God, thought William, I can't even remember where it is.

The doorman observed his embarrassment.. "You take the corridor on the
left, sir, and then it's the -second door on the right."

"Thank you," said William, and walked as confidently as he could down
the corridor.  He had always thought the expression a stomach full of
butterflies a stupid one until that moment.  He felt his heartbeat was
louder than the clock in the front hall; he would not have been
surprised to hear himself chiming three o'clock.

Ted Leach was standing alone at the entrance to the board room. "There's
going to be trouble," were his opening words.

"Good," said William.. "That's the way Charles Lester would have liked
it, and be would have faced the trouble head on."

William strode into the impressive oak-panelled room and did not need to
count heads to be sure that every director was present.  This was not
going to be one of those board meetings a director could occasionally
afford to skip.  The conversation stopped the moment William entered the
room, and there was an awkward silence as they all stood around and
stared at him.  William quickly took the chairman's seat at the head of
the long mahogany table before Peter Parfitt could realise what was
happening. "Gentlemen, please be seated," said William, hoping his voice
sounded firm.

Ted Leach and some of the other directors took their seats immediately;
others were more reluctant.  Murmuring started.

William could see that two directors whom he didn't know We're about to
rise and interrupt him.

Before anyone else says anything I would, if you will allow me, like to
make an opening statement, and then you can decide how you wish to
proceed from there.  I feel that is the least we can do to comply with
the wishes of the late Charles Lester."

The two men sat down.

"Thank you, gentlemen.  To start with, I would like to make it clear to
all those present that I have absolutely no desire to be the chairman of
this bank William paused for effect '-unless it be the wish of the
majority of its directors." Every eye in the room was now fixed on
William.

"I am, gentlemen, at present vice-chairman of Kane and Cabot, and I own
fifty-one percent of their stock.  Kane and Cabot was founded by my
grandfather, and I think it compares favourably in reputation, though
not in size, with Lester's.  Were I required to leave Boston and move to
New York to become the next chairman of Lester's, in compliance with
Charles Lester's wishes, I cannot pretend the move would be an easy one
for myself or for my family.

However, as it was Charles Lester's wish that I should do just that and
be was not a man to make such a proposition lightly - I am, gentlemen,
bound to take his wishes seriously myself.  I would also like to add
that his son, Matthew Lester, was my closest friend for over fifteen
years, and I consider it a tragedy that it is I, and not he, who is
addressing you today as your nominated chairman."

Some of the directors were nodding their approval.

"Gentlemen, if I am fortunate enough to secure your support today, I
will sacrifice everything I have in Boston in order to serve you.  I
hope it is unnecessary for me to give you a detailed account of my
banking experience.  I shall assume that any director present who has
read Charles Lester's will must have taken the trouble to find out why
he considered that I was the right man to succeed him.  My own chairman,
Anthony Simmons, whom many of you will know, has asked me to stay on at
Kane and Cabot.

"I had intended to inform Mr.  Parfitt yesterday of my final decision,
had he taken the trouble to call me and seek out that information, I had
the pleasure of dining with Mr.  and Mrs.  Parfitt last Friday evening
at their home, and on that occasion Mr.  Parfitt informed me that he had
no interest in becoming the next chairman of this bank.  My only rival,
in his opinion, was Mr.  Edward Leach, your other vice-chairman.  I have
since consulted with Mr.  Leach himself, and he informs me that I have
always had his support for the chair.  I assumed, therefore, that both
vice-chairmen were backing me.  After reading the Wall Street journal
this morning, not that I have ever trusted their forecasting since the
age of eight'  a little laughter . "I felt I should attend today's
meeting to assure myself that I had not lost the support of the two
vice-chairmen, and that the ournal's account was inaccurate.  Mr.  Leach
called this board meeting, and I must ask him at this juncture if he
still supports me to succeed Charles Lester as the bank's next
chairman."

William looked towards Ted Leach, whose head was bowed.  The wait for
his verdict was palpable.  A thumbsdown from him would mean the
Parfittians could eat the Christian.

Ted Leach raised his head slowly and said. "I support Mr.  Kane
unreservedly."

William looked directly at Peter Parfitt for the first time that day. He
was sweating profusely, and when he spoke, he did not take his eyes off
the yellow pad in front of him.

"Well, some members of the board," he began, "felt I should throw my hat
in the ring ...  I

"So you have changed your mind about supporting me and complying with
Charles Lester's wishes?" interrupted William, allowing a small note of
surprise to enter his voice.

Peter Parfitt raised his head a little.. "The problem is not quite that
easy, Mr.  Kane."

"Yes or no, Mr.  Parfitt?"

"Yes, I shall stand against you," said Peter Parfitt suddenly,
forcefully.

"Despite telling me last Friday you had no interest in being chairman
yourself ?"

"I would like to be able to state my own position," said Parfitt,
'before you assume too much.  This is not your board room yet, Mr.
Kane.. "Certainly, Mr.  Parfitt."

So far, the meeting had gone exactly as William had planned.  His own
speech had been carefully prepared and delivered, and Peter Parfitt now
laboured under the disadvantage of having lost the initiative, to say
nothing of having been publicly called a liar.

"Gentlemen," he began, as if searching for words.. "Well," he said.

The eyes had turned their gaze from William and now fixed on Parfitt. It
gave William the chance to relax and study the faces of the other
directors.

"Several members of the board approached me privately after I had dinner
with Mr.  Kane, and I felt that it was no more than my duty to consider
their wishes and offer myself for election.  I have never at any time
wanted to oppose the wishes of Mr.  Charles Lester, whom I always
admired and respected.  Naturally, I would have informed Mr.  Kane of my
intention before tomorrow's scheduled board meeting, but I confess to
have been taken somewhat by surprise by today's events."

He drew a deep breath and started again.. "I have served Lester's for
twenty-two years, six of them as your vicech;airman.  I feel, therefore,
that I have the right to be considered for the chair.  I would be
delighted if Mr.  Kane were to join the board, but I now find myself
unable to back his appointment as chairman.  I hope my fellow-directors
will find it possible to support someone who has worked for this bank
for over twenty years rather than elect an unknown outsider on the whim
of a man distraught by the death of his only son.  Thank you,
gentlemen."

He sat down.

In the circumstances, William was rather impressed by the speech, but
Parfitt did not have the benefit of Mr. Cohen's advice on the power of
the last word in a close contest.  William rose again.

"Gentlemen, Mr.  Parfitt has pointed out that I am personally unknown to
you.  1, therefore, want none of you to be in any doubt as to the type.
of man I am.  I am, as I said, the grandson and the son of bankers. I've
been a banker all my life and it would be less than honest of me to
pretend I would not be delighted to serve as the next chairman of
Lester's.  If, on the other hand, after all you have heard today, you
decide to back Mr. Parfitt as chairman, so be it.  I shall return to
Boston and serve my own bank quite happily.  I will, moreover, announce
publicly that I have no wish to be the chairman of Lester's, and that
will insure you against any claims that you have been derelict in
fulfilling the provisions of Charles Lester's will.

"There are, however, no conditions on which I would be willing to serve
on your board under Mr.  Parfitt.  I have no intention of being less
than frank with you on that point.  I come before you, gentlemen, at the
grave disadvantage of being, in Mr.  Parfitt's words an unknown
outsider".  I have however, the advantage of being supported by a man
who cannot be present today.  A man whom all of you respected and
admired, a man not known for yielding to whims or making hasty
decisions.  I therefore suggest this board wastes no more of its
valuable time in deciding whom they wish to serve as the next chairman
of Lester's.  If any of you have any doubts in your mind about my
ability to run this bank, then I can only suggest you vote for Mr.
Parfitt.  I shall not vote in this election myself, gentlemen, and I
assume Mr.  Parfitt will not do so either."

"You cannot vote," said Peter Parfitt, angrily.. "You are not a member
of this board yet.  I am, and I shall vote."

"So be it, Mr.  Parfitt.  No one will ever be able to say you did not
have the opportunity to gain every possible vote."

William waited for the effect of his words to sink in, and as a director
who was a stranger to William was about to interrupt, he continued. "I
will ask Mr.  Rodgers as company secretary to carry out the electoral
procedure, and when you have completed your vote, gentlemen, perhaps you
could pass the ballot papers back to him."

Alfred Rodgers' monocle had been popping out periodically during the
entire meeting.  Nervously, he passed voting slips around to each
director.  When each had written down the name of the candidate whom he
supported, the slips were returned to him.

"Perhaps it might be prudent under the circumstances, Mr.  Rodgers, if
the votes were c_ounted aloud, thus making sure no in advertent error is
made that might lead the directors to require a second ballot."

"Certainly, Mr.  Kane."  Mr.  Parfitt?"

"Does that meet with your approval, Peter Parfitt nodded his agreement
without looking up.  tthank you.  Perhaps you would be kind enough to
read the votes out to the board, Mr.  Rodgers."

The company secretary opened the first voting slip.

"Parfitt."

And then the second.

"Parfitt," he repeated.

The game was now out of William's hands.  All the years of waiting for
the prize he had told Charles Lester so long ago would be his would be
over in the next few seconds-'Kane.  Parfitt.  Kane."

Three votes to two against him; was he going to meet the same fate as he
had in his contest with Tony Simmons'O

"Kane.  Kane.  Parfitt."

Four votes all.  He could see that Parfitt was sweating profusely at the
other side of the table and he didn't exactly feel relaxed himself.

"Parfitt."

No epression crossed WilliariYs face.  Parfitt allowed him-self a smile.

Five votes to four.

"Kane.  Kane.  Kane.

The smile disappeared-just two more, two more) loud.

cparfitt.  Parfitt." The company secretary took a long time opening a
olded and refolded several voting slip which someone had f times.

"Kane." Eight votes to seven in William's favour.

The last piece of paper was now being opened- William watched Alfred
Rodgers' lips.  The company secretary looked pleaded William, nearly out
up; for that one moment he was the most important man in the room.

"Kane." Parfitt's head sank into his hands.

"Gentlemen, the tally is nine votes for Mr.  William Kane, seven votes
for Mr.  Peter Parfitt.  I therefore declare Mr.  William Kane to be the
duly elected   an of Lester's Bank."

A respectful silence fell over the room and every head except Peter
Parfitt's turned towards William and waited for the new chairman's first
move.

William exhaled a great rush of air and stood once again, this time to
face his board.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for the confidence you have placed in me.  It was
Charles Lestees wish that I should be your next chairman and I am
delighted you have confirmed that wish with your vote.  I now intend to
serve this bank to the best of my ability, which I shall be unable to do
without the wholehearted support of the board.  If I&.  Parfitt would be
kind enough ...  I Peter Parfitt looked up hopefully.

...  to join me in the chairman's office in a few minutes time, I would
be much obliged.  After I have seen Mr. Parfitt, I would like to see Mr.
Leach.  I hope, gentlemen, that tomorrow I shall have the opportunity of
meeting all of you individually.  The next board meeting will be the
monthly one.  This meeting is now adjourned."

The directors began to rise and talk among themselves.  William walked
quickly into the corridor, avoiding Peter Parfitt's stare.  Ted Leach
caught up with Mm and directed him to the chairmans office.

"That was a great risk you took," said Ted Leach, "and you only just
pulled it off.  What would you have done if you'd lost the vote?"

"Gone back to Boston,, said William, sounding unperturbed.

Ted Leach opened the door to the chairman's office for William.  The
room was almost exactly as he remembered it; Perhaps it had seemed a
little larger when, as a prep-school I)oy, he had told Charles Lester
that he would one day run ti-ie bank. He stared at the portrait of the
great man behind his desk and winked at the late chairman.  Then he sat
down in the big red leather chair, and put his elbows on the mahogany
desk.  As he took a small, leather-bound book out of his jacket pocket
and placed it on the desk in front of him, there was a knock on the
door.  An old man entered, leaning heavily on a black stick with a
silver handle.

Ted Leach left them alone.

"My name is Rupert Cork-Smith," he said, with a hint of an English
accent.

William rose to greet him.  He was the oldest member of the board.  His
grey hair, long sideburns and heavy gold watch all came from a past era,
but his reputation for probity was legendary in banking circles.  No man
needed to sign a contract with Rupert Cork-Smith : his word had always
been his bond.  He looked William firmly in the eye.

"I voted against you, sir, and naturally you can expect my resignation
to be on your desk within the hour.. "Will you have a seat, sir?" said
William gently.

"Thank you, sir," he replied.

"I think you knew my father and grandfather."

"I had that privilege.  Your grandfather and I were at Harvard together,
and I still remember with regret your father's tragic death."

"And Charles Lester?" said William.

"Was my closest friend.  The provisions in his will have preyed upon my
conscience.  It was no secret that my choice would not have been Peter
Parfitt.  I would have had Ted Leach for chairman, but as I have never
abstained from anything in my life, I felt I had to support the
candidate who stood against you as I found myself unable to vote for a
man I had never even met."

"I admire your honesty, Mr.  Cork-Smith, but now I have a bank to run. I
need you at this moment far more than you need me so I, as a younger
man, beg you not to resign."

The old man raised his head and stared into William's eyes.. "I'm not
sure it would work, young man.  I can't change my attitudes overnight,"
said Cork-Sniith, both hands resting on his stick.

"Give me six months, sir, and if you still feel the same way I won't put
up a fight." They both sat in silence before Cork-Smith spoke again.

"Charles Lester was right: you are the son of Richard Kane.. "Will you
continue to serve this bank, sir?"

"I will, young man.  There's no fool like an old fool, don't you know."

Rupert Cork-Smith rose slowly with the aid of his stick.  William moved
to help him but was waved away.

"Good luck, my boy.  You can rely on my total support.. "Thank you,
sir,"said William.

When he opened the door, William saw Peter Parfitt waiting in the
corridor.  As Rupert Cork-Smith left, the two men did not speak.

Peter Parfitt blustered in.. "Well, I tried and I lost.  A man can't do
more," he said laughing.. "No hard feelings, Bill?" He extended his
hand.

"There are no hard feelings, Mr.  Parfitt.  As you so rightly say, you
tried and you lost, and now you will resign from your post at this
bank."

"I'll do what?" said Parfitt.

"Resign," said William.

"That's a bit rough, isn't it, Bill?  My action wasn't at all personal,
I simply felt.  .  ."

"I don't want you in my bank, Mr.  Parfitt.  You'll leave by tonight and
never return."

"And if I say I won't go?  I own a good many shares in the bank, and I
still have a lot of support on the board, you know, and what's more I
could take you to court."

"Then I would recommend that you read the bank's b laws, Mr.  Parfitt,
which I spent some considerable time stud ing only this morning."

William picked up the small, leather-bound book which was still lying on
the desk in front of him and turned a few pages over.  Having found a
paragraph he had marked that morning, he read aloud. "The chairman has
the right to re-move any office holder in whom he has lost confidence."
He looked up.. "I have lost confidence in you, Mr. Parfitt, and you will
therefore resign, receiving two years' pay.  If, on the other hand, you
force me to remove you, I shall see that you leave the bank with nothing
other than your stock.  The choice is yours."

"Won't you give me a chance?"

"I gave you a chance last Friday night, and you lied and cheated.  Not
traits I am looking for in my next vicechairman.  Will it be resignation
or do I throw you out, Mr.  Parfitt?"

"Damn you, Kane, I'll resign."

"Good.  Sit down and write the letter now."

"No, I'll let you have it in the morning in my own good time." He
started walking towards the door.

"Now - or I fire you," said William.

Peter Parfitt hesitated and then came back and sank heavily into a chair
by the side of William's desk.  William handed him a piece of the bank's
stationery and proffered him a pen.  Parfitt took out his own pen and
started writing.

When he had finished, William picked up the letter and read it through
carefully.

"Good day, Mr.  Parfitt."

Peter Parfitt left without speaking.  Ted Leach came in a few moments
later.

"You wanted to see me, Mr.  Chairman?"

"Yes," said William.. "I want to appoint you as the bank's overall
vice-chairman.  Mr.  Parfitt felt he had to resign."

"Oh, I'm surprised to hear that, I would have thought .  .

William passed him the letter.  Ted Leach read it and then looked at
William.

"I shall be delighted to be overall vice-chairman.  Thank you for your
confidence in me."

"Good.  I will be obliged if you will arrange for me to meet every
director during the next two days.  I shall start work at eight o'clock
tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Mr.  Kane."

"Perhaps you will also be kind enough to give Mr.  Parfites letter of
resignation to the company secretary?"

"As you wish, Mr.  Chairman.. "My name is William, another mistake Mr.
Parfitt made." Ted Leach smiled tentatively.. "I'll see you tomorrow
morning he hesitated '-William."

When he had left, William sat in Charles Lester's chair and whirled
himself around in an uncharacteristic burst of sheer glee till he was
dizzy.  Then he looked out of the window on to Wall Street, elated by
the bustling crowds, enjo ing the view of the other great banks and
brokerage houses of America.  He was part of all that now.

"And who, pray, are you?" said a female voice from behind Mm.

William swivelled round, and there standing in front of him was a
middle-aged woman, primly dressed, looking very irate.

"Perhaps I may ask you the same question," said William.

"I am the chairman's secretary," said the woman stiffly.

"And I,"said Willia "am the chairman."

During the next few weeks William moved his family to New York where
they found a house on East Sixty-eighth Street.  Settling in took longer
than they had originally anticipated possible.  For the first three
months William wished, as he tried to extricate himself from Boston in
order to carry out his job in New York, that every day had forty-eight
hours in it, and he found the umbilical cord was hard to sever
completely.  Tony Simmons was most helpful, and William began to
appreciate why Alan Lloyd had backed him to be chairman of Kane and
Cabot, and for the first time was willing to adt Alan had been right.

Kate's life in New York was soon fully occupied.  Virginia could already
crawl across a room and get into William's study before Kate could turn
her head, and Richard wanted a new windbreaker, like every other boy in
New York.  As the wife of the chairman of a New York bank she regularly
had to give cocktail parties and dinners, subtly making sure certain
directors aipd major clients were always given the chance to catch the
private ear of William to seek his advice or voice their own opinions.
Kate handled all situations with great charm, and William was eternally
grateful to the liquidation department of Kane and Cabot for supplying
his greatest asset, When she informed William that she was going to have
another baby, all he could ask wa. "When did I find the time?" Virginia
was thrilled by the news, not fully understanding why Mummy was getting
so fat, and Richard refused to discuss it.

Within six months the clash with Peter Parfitt was a thing of the past,
and William had become the undisputed chairman of Lester's bank and a
figure to be reckoned with in New York financial circles.  Not many more
months had passed before he began to wonder in which direction he should
start to set himself a new goal.  He had achieved his life's ambition by
becoming chairman of Lester's at the age of thirty-three although,
unlike Alexander, he felt there were more worlds still to conquer, and
he had neither the time nor the inclination to sit down and weep.

Kate gave birth to their third child at the end of William's first year
as chairman of Lester's, a second girl, whom they named Lucy.  William
taught Virginia, who was now walking, how to rock Lucy's cradle; while
Richard, now almost five years old and due to enter kindergarten at The
Buckley School, used the new arrival as the opportunity to talk his
father into a new baseball bat.

In WilliariYs first year as chairman of Lester's the bank's profits were
slightly up and he was forecasting a considerable improvement in his
second year.

Then on I September 1939 Hitler marched into Poland.

One of William's first reactions was to think of Abel Rosnovski and his
new Baron on Park Avenue, already becoming the toast of New York.
Quarterly reports from Thomas Cohen showed that Rosnovski went from
strength to strength although his latest ideas for expansion to Europe
looked as if they might be in for a slight delay.  Cohen continued to
find no direct association between Henry Osborne and Abel Rosnovski, but
he admitted that it was becoming increasingly difficult to ascertain all
the facts he required.

William never thought that America would involve herself in a European
war, but nevertheless he kept the London branch of Lester's open to show
clearly which side he was on and not for one moment did he consider
selling his twelve thousand acres in Hampshire and Lincolnshire.  Tony
Simmons in Boston, on the other hand, informed William that he intended
to close Kane and Cabot's London branch.  William used the problems
created in London by the war as an excuse to visit his beloved Boston
and have a meeting with Tony.

The two chairmen now met on extremely easy and friendly terms since they
no longer had any reason to see themselves as rivals.  In fact, each had
come to use the other as a springboard for new ideas.  As Tony had
predicted, Kane and Cabot had lost some of its more important clients
when William became the chairman of Lester's, but William always kept
Tony fully informed whenever an old client expressed a desire to move
his account and he never solicited a single one.  When they sat down at
the corner table of Locked-Ober's for lunch, Tony Simmons lost little
time in repeating his intent to close the London branch of Kane and
Cabot.

"My first reason is simple," he said as he sipped the imported burgundy,
apparently not giving a moment's thought to the strong likelihood that
German boots were about to trample on the grapes in most of the
vineyards in France.

"I think the bank will lose money if we don't cut our losses and get out
of England."

"Of course, you will lose a little money," said William, "but we must
support the British."

"Why?" asked Tony.. "We're a bank, not a supporters' club.. "Britain's
not a baseball team, Tony; it's a nation of people to whom we owe our
entire heritage.  .  ."

"You should take up politics," said Tony.. "I'm beginning to think your
talents are wasted in banking.

Nevertheless, I feel there's a far more important reason why we should
close the branch.  If Hitler marches into Britain the way he has into
Poland and France - and I'm sure that is exactly what he intends to do -
the bank will be taken over, and we would lose every penny we have in
London."

"Over my dead body,"said William.. "If Hitler puts so much as a foot on
British soil, America will enter the war the same day."

"Never," said Tony.. "F.D.R.  has said, "all aid short of war".  And the
America Firsters would raise an almighty hue and cry."

"Never listen to a politician," said William.. "Especially Roosevelt.
When he says "never", that only means not today, or at least not this
morning.  You only have to remember what Wilson told us in 1916."

Tony laughed.. "When are you going to run for the Senate, William?"

"Now there is a question to which I can safely answer never."     I want
out!

"I respect your feelings, William, but

"You're the chairman," replied William.. "If the board backs you, you
can close the London branch tomorrow, and I would never use my position
to act against a majority decision.. "Until you join the two banks
together, and it becomes your decision."

"I told you once, Tony, that I would never attempt to do that while you
were chairman.  It's a promise I intend to honour."

"But I think we ought to merge."

"What?" said William, spilling his burgundy on the tablecloth, unable to
believe what he had just heard.. "Good heavens, Tony, I'll say one thing
for you, you're never predictable."

"I have the best interests of the bank at heart, as always, William.
Think about the present situation for a moment.

New York is now, more than ever, the centre of U.S.  finance, and when
England goes under to Hitler, it will be the centre of world finance, so
that's where Kane and Cabot needs to be.  Moreover, if we merged, we
would create a more comprehensive institution because our specialities
are complementary. Kane and Cabot has always done a great deal of ship
and heavy industry financing while Leste!'s does ve, little. Conversely,
you do a lot of underwriting, and we hardly touch it.  Not to mention
the fact that in many cities we have unnecessary duplicating offices."

"Tony, I agree with everything yove said, but I would still want to stay
in Britain."

"Exactly proving my point, William.  Kane and Cabot's London branch
would be closed, but we would still keep Lestees.  Then, if London goes
through a rough passage, it won't matter as much because we would be
consolidated and therefore stronger."

"But how would you feel if I said that while Roosevelt's restrictions on
merchant banks will only allow us to work out of one state, a merger
could succeed only if we ran the entire operation from New York treating
Boston as nothing more than a holding office?"

"I'd back you," said Tony and added. "You might even consider going into
commercial banking and dropping the straight investment work."

"No, Tony.  F.D.R.  has made it impossible for an honest man to do both,
and in any case my father believed that you could either serve a small
group of rich people or a large group of poor people so Lester's will
always remain in traditional merchant banking as long as I'm chairman.
But if we did decide to merge the two banks don't you foresee
majoproblems?"

"Very few we couldn't surmount given goodwill on both sides.  However,
you will have to consider the implications carefully, William, as you
would undoubtedly lose overall Control of the new bank as a minority
shareholder which would always make you vulnerable to a takeover bid."

"I'd risk that to be chairman of one of the largest financial
institutions in America."

William returned to New York that evening, elated by his discussion and
called a board meeting of Lester's to outline Tony Simmons' proposal.
When he found that the board approved of a merger in principle, he
instructed each manager in the bank to consider the whole plan in
greater detail.

The departmental heads took three months before they reported back to
the board, and to a man they came to the same conclusion : a merger was
no more than common sense, as the two banks were complementary in so
many ways.

With different offices all over America and branches in Europe, they had
a great deal to offer each other.  Moreover, the chairman of Lester's
had continued to own fifty-one percent of Kane and Cabot, making the
merger simply a marriage of convenience.  Some of the directors on
Lester's board could not understand why William hadn't thought of the
idea before.  Ted Leach was of the opinion that Charles Lester must have
had it in his mind when he nominated William as his successor.

The details of the merger took nearly a year to negotiate and lawyers
were kept at work into the small hours to complete the necessary paper
work.  In the exchange of shares, William ended up as the largest
stockholder with eight percent of the new company and was appointed the
new bank's president and chairman.  Tony Simmons remained in Boston as
one vice-chairman and Ted Leach in New York as the other.  The new
merchant bank was renamed Lester, Kane and Company, but was still to be
referred to as Lester's.

William decided to hold a press conference in New York to announce the
successful merger of the two banks and he chose Monday, 8 December 1941
to inform the financial business world at large.  The press conference
had to be cancelled, because the morning before the Japanese had
launched an attack on Pearl Harbor.

The prepared press release had already been mailed to the newspapers
some days before, but the Tuesday morning financial pages understandably
allocated the announcement of the merger only a small amount of space.
This lack of coverage was no longer foremost in Willias mind.

He couldn't quite work out how or when he was going to tell Kate that he
intended to enlist.  When Kate heard the news she was horrified and
immediately tried to talk him out of the decision.

"What do you imagine you can do that a million others can't?" she
demanded.

"I'm not sure," William replied. "But all I can be certain of is that I
must do what my father or grandfather would have done given the same
circumstances."

"They would have undoubtedly done what was in the best interest of the
bank."

"No," replied William quickly.. "They would have done what was in the
best interest of America."

Book Four

Abel studied the news item on Lester, Kane and Company in the financial
section of the Chicago Tribune.  With all the space devoted to the
implications of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, he would have
missed the brief article had it not been accompanied by a small
out-of-date photograph of William Kane, so out-of-date that Kane looked
much as he had when Abel had visited him in Boston over ten years
before.  Certainly Kane appeared too young in that photograph to live up
to the joumal's description of him as the brilliant chairman of the
newly formed Lester, Kane and Company.  The article went on to predict:
"The new bank, a joining of Lester's of New York and Kane and Cabot of
Boston, could well become one of the most important financial
institutions in America after Mr.  Kane's decision to merge the two
distinguished family banks.  As far as the Trib could ascertain the
shares would be in the hands of about twenty people related to, or
closely associated with the two fan-,tilies."

Abel was delighted by that particular piece of information, realising
that Kane must have lost overall control.  He read the news item again.
William Kane had obviously risen in the world since they had crossed
swords, but then so had he, and he still had an old score to settle with
the newly appointed chairman of Lester's.

So handsomely had the Baron Group's fortunes prospered over the decade
that Abel had paid back all the loans to his backer and honoured to the
letter the original agreement with his backer and had secured one
hundred percent ownership of the company within the required ten-year
period.

By the last quarter of 1939, not only had Abel paid off the loan, but
the profits for 1940 passed the half million mark.  This milestone
coincided with the opening of two new Barons, one in Washington, the
other in San Francisco.

Though Abel had become a less devoted husband during this period, he
could not have been a more doting father.

Zaphia, longing for a second child, finally goaded him into seeing his
doctor.  When he learned that, because of a low sperm count, probably
caused by sickness and malnutrition in his days under the Germans and
Russians, Florentyna would almost certainly be his only child, he gave
up all hope for a son and proceeded to lavish everything on her.

Abel's fame was now spreading across America and even the press had
taken to referring to him a. "The Chicago Baron'.  He no longer cared
about the jokes behind his back.  Wladek Koskiewicz had arrived and,
more importantly, he was here to stay.  By 1941 the profits from his
thirteen hotels were just short of one million and, with his new surplus
of capital, he decided the time had come for even further expansion.

Then the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

Abel had already been sending considerable sums of money to the British
Red Cross for the relief of his countrymen since that dreadful day in
September 1939 on which the Nazis had marched into Poland, later to meet
the Russians at Brest Litovsk and once again divide his homeland between
them.  He had waged a fierce battle, both within the Democratic Party
and in the press, to push an unwilling America into the war even if now
it had to be on the side of the Russians.  His efforts so far had been
fruitless, but on that December Sunday, with every radio station across
the country blaring out the details to an incredulous nation, Abel knew
that America must now be committed to the war.

On I I December he listened to President Roosevelt tell the nation that
Germany and Italy had officially declared war on the United States. Abel
had every intention of joining in, but first he had a private
declaration of war he wished to make, and to that end he placed a call
to Curtis Fenton at the Continental Trust Bank.  Over the years Abel had
grown to trust Fenton's judgment and had kept him on the board of the
Baron Group when he gained overall control in order to keep a close link
between the group and Continental Trust.

Curtis Fenton came on the line) his usual formal and always polite self.

"How much spare cash am I holding in the group's reserve account?" asked
Abel.

Curtis Fenton picked out the file marked. "Number 6 Account',
remembering the days when he could put all Mr. Rosnovski's affairs into
one file. He scanned some figures.

"A little under two million dollars)'he said.

"Good," said Abel.. "I want you to look into a newly formed bank called
Lester, Kane and Company.  Find out the name of every shareholder, what
percentage they control and if there are any conditions under which they
would be willing to sell.  All this must be done without the knowledge
of the bank's chairman, Mr.  William Kane and without my name ever being
mentioned."

Curtis Fenton held his breath and said nothing.  He was glad that Abel
Rosnovski could not see his surprised face.

Why did Abel Rosnovski want to put money into anything to do with
William Kane?  Fenton had also read in the Wall Street journal about the
merging of the two famous family banks.  What with Pearl Harbor and his
wife's headache, he too had nearly missed the item.  Rosnovski's request
jogged his memory - he must send a congratulatory wire to William Kane.
He pencilled a note on the bottom of the Baron Group file while
listening to Abel's instructions.

"When you have a full rundown I want to be briefed in person, nothing on
paper."

"Yes Mr.  Rosnovski."

uppose someone knows what's going on between those s two, Curtis Fenton
added silently to himself, but I'm damned if I do.

Abel continued.. "I'd also like to know in your quarterly reports the
details of every official statement issued by Lester's and which
companies they are involved with.. "Certainly, Mr.  Rosnovski."

"Thank you, Mr.  Fenton.  By the way, my market research team is
advising me to open a new Baron in Montreal.. "The war doesn't worry
you, Mr.  Rosnovski?"

"Good God, no.  If the Germans reach Montreal we can all close down,
Continental Trust included.  In any case, we beat the bastards last
time, and we'll beat them again.  The only difference is that this time
I'll be able to join the action.  Good day, Mr. Fenton."

Will I ever understand what goes on in the mind of Abel Rosnovski,
Curtis Fenton wondered, as he hung up the phone.  His thoughts switched
back to Abel's other request, for the details of Lester's shares.  That
worried him even more.  Although William Kane no longer had any
connection with Rosnovski, he feared where this might all end if his
client obtained a substantial holding in Lester's.  He decided against
giving his views to Rosnovski for the time being, supposing the day
would come when one of them would explain what they were both up to.

Abel also wondered if he should tell Curtis Fenton why he wanted to buy
stock in Lester's but came to the conclusion that the fewer the number
of people who knew of his plan, the better.

He put William Kane temporarily out of his mind and asked his secretary
to find George, who was now a vice president of the Baron Group.  He had
grown along with Abel and was now his most trusted lieutenant.  Sitting
in his office on the forty-ond floor of the Chicago Baron, Abel looked
down at Lake Michigan, on what was known as the Gold Coast, but his own
thoughts returned to Poland.  He wondered if he would ever live to see
his castle again, now well inside the Russian borders under Stalin's
control.  Abel knew he would never settle in Poland, but he still wanted
his castle restored to him.  The idea of the Germans or Russians
occupying his magnificent home once again made him want to ...  His
thoughts were interrupted by George.

"You wanted to see me, Abel?"

George was the only member of the group who still called the Chicago
Baron y his first name.

"Yes, George 0 you think you could keep the hotels ticking along for a
few months if I were to take a leave of absence?"

"Sure I can," said George.. "Why, are you finally going to take that
vacation you promised yourself?"

"No,"replied Abel.. "I'm going to war.. "What?" said George.. "What?" he
repeated.

"I'm going to New York tomorrow morning to enlist in the army."

"You're crazy, you could get yourself killed."

"That isn't what I had in mind,"replied Abel.. "Killing some ("rerrnans
is what I plan to do.  The bastards didn't get me the first time around
and I have no intention of letting them get me now."

George continued to protest that America could win the war without Abel.
Zaphia protested too; she hated the very thought of war and little
Florentyna, just turned eight years old, burst into tears.  She did not
quite know what war meant but she did understand that Daddy would have
to 90 away for a very long time.

Despite their protests, Abel took his first plane flight to New York the
next day.  All of America seemed to be going in different directions and
he found the city full of young men in khaki saying their farewells to
parents, sweethearts and wives, all assuring each other that the war
would be over in a few weeks but none of them believing it.

Abel arrived at the New York Baron in time for dinner.  The dining room
was packed with young people, girls clinging desperately to soldiers,
sailors and airmen, while Frank Sinatra crooned to the rhythms of Tommy
Dorsey's big hand.  As Abel watched the young people on the dance floor,
he wondered how many of them would ever have a chance to enjoy an
evening like this again.  He couldn't help remembering Sammy explaining
how he had become maz'tre d' at the Plaza.  The three men senior to him
had returned front the Western Front with one leg between them.  None of
the young people dancing could begin to know what war wa really like. He
didn't join in the celebration - if that's what it was.  He went to his
room instead.

In the morning, he dressed in a plain dark suit and.  went down to the
recruiting office in Times Square.  He had chosen to enlist in New York
because he feared someone might recognise him in Chicago and all he
could hope to end up with would be a swivel chair.  The office was even
more crowded than the dance floor had been the night before, but here no
one was clinging on to anyone else.  Abel hung around the entire morning
in order to fill out one form that would have taken him three minutes in
his own office.  He couldn't help noticing that all the other recruits
looked fitter than he.  He then stood in line for two more hours waiting
to be interviewed by a recruiting sergeant who asked him what he did for
a living.

"Hotel management," said Abel, and went on to tell the officer of his
experiences in the first war.  The sergeant stared silently at the five
foot seven, one hundred and ninety pound man with an expression of
incredulity, If Abel had told him he was the Chicago,Baron, the officer
would not have doubted his stories of imprisonment and escape, but he
chose to keep this information to himself and be treated like any of his
fellow countrymen.

"You'll have to take a full physical tomorrow morning," was all the
recruiting sergeant said at the end of Abel's monologue, adding, as
though he felt the comment was no less than his duty. "Thank you for
volunteering."

The next day Abel had to wait several more hours for his physical
examination.  The doctor in charge was fairly blunt about Abel's general
condition.  He had been protected from such comments for several years
by his position and success.  It came as a rude awakening when the
doctor classified him 4F.

"You're overweight, your eyes are not too good, your heart i,; weak, and
you limp.  Frankly, Rosnovski, you're plain unII t.  We can't take
soldiers into battle who are likely to have  t heart attack even before
they find the enemy.

That doesn't iiiean we can't use your talents; there's a lot of
paperwork z (i be done in this war if you are interested."

Abel wanted to hit him, but he knew that wouldn't help get him into
uniform.

"No, thank you ...  sir," he said.. "I want to fight the Germans, not
send letters to them."

He returned to the hotel that evening despondent, but Abel decided that
he wasn't licked yet.  The next day he tried again, going to another
recruiting office, but he came back to the Baron with the same result.
Admittedly, the second doctor had been a little more polite, but he was
every bit as firm about his condition, and once again Abel had ended up
with a 4F.  It was obvious to Abel that he was not going to be allowed
to fight anybody in his present state of health.

The next morning, he found a gymnasium on West fifty-seventh Street and
paid a private instructor to do something about his physical condition.
For three months he worked every day on his weight and general fitness.

He boxed, wrestled, ran, jumped, skipped, pressed weights and starved.
When he was down to one hundred and fiftyfive pounds, the instructor
assured him he was never going to be much fitter or thinner.  Abel
returned to the first recruiting office and filled in the same form
under the name of Wiadek Koskiewicz.  Another recruiting sergeant was a
lot more hopeful this time, and the medical officer who gave him several
tests finally accepted him as a reserve, waiting to be called up.

"But I want to go to war now," said Abel.. "I want to fight the
bastards."

"We'll be in touch with, you, Mr.  Koskiewicz," said the sergeant.
"Please keep yourself fit and prepared.  You can never be sure when we
will need you."

Abel left, furious as he watched younger, leaner Americans being readily
accepted for active service, and as he barged through the door, not sure
what his next ploy should be, he walked straight into a tall, gangling
man wearing a uniform adorned with stars on the shoulders.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Abel, looking up and backing away.

"Young man," said the general.

Abel walked on, not thinking that the officer was addressing him, as no
one had called him young man for ...  he didn't want to think for how
long, despite the fact that he was still only thirty-five.

The general tried again.. "Young man," he said a little more loudly.

This time Abel turned around.  The, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, you, sir."

Abel walked over to the general.

"Will you come to my office please, Mr.  Rosnovski?" Damn, thought Abel,
this man knows who I am, and now nobody's going to let me fight in this
war.  The general's temporary office turned out to be at the back of the
building, a small room with a desk, two wooden chairs, peeling green
paint and an open door.  Abel would not have allowed a junior member of
his staff at a Baron to work in such surroundings.

"Mr.  Rosnovski," the general began, exuding energy, "my name is Mark
Clark and I command,the U.S.  Fifth Army.  I'm over from Governors
Island for the day on an inspection tour, so literally bumping into you
is a pleasant surprise.  I have for a long time been an admirer.  Your
story is one to gladden the heart of any American.  Now tell me what you
are doing in this recruiting office."

"What do you think?" said Abel, not thinking.. "I'm sorry, sir," he
corrected himself quickly.. "I didn't mean to be rude, it's only that no
one will let me get into this damn war."

"What do you want to do in this damn war?" asked the general.

"Sign up," said Abel, "and fight the Germans."

"As a foot soldier?" enquired the incredulous general.

"Yes," said Abel, "don't you need every man you can get?"

"Naturally," said the general, "but I can put your particular talents to
a far better use than as a foot soldier.. "I'll do anything," said Abel,
'anything."

"Will you now?" said the general, "and if I asked you to place your New
York hotel at my disposal as army headquarters here, how would you react
to that?  Because frankly, Mr.  Rosnovski, that would be of far more use
to me than if you managed to kill a dozen Germans personally."

"The Baron is yours," said Abel.. "Now will you let me go to war?"

"You know yore mad, don't you?" said General Clark.

"I'm Polish," said Abel.  They both laugh2d.. "You must understand," he
continued in a more serious tone.. "I was born near Slonim.  I saw my
home taken over by the Germans, my sister raped by the Russians.  I
later escaped from a Russian labour camp and was lucky enough to reach
America.  I'm not mad.  This is the only country in the world where you
can arrive with nothing and become a millionaire through damned hard
work regardless of your background.  Now those same bastards want
another war.  I'm not mad, General.  I'm human."

"Well, if yore so eager to join up, Mr.  Rosnovski, I could use you, but
not in the way you imagine.  General Denvers needs someone to take over
responsibility as quartermaster for the Fifth Army while they are
fighting in the front lines.  If you believe Napoleon was right when he
said an army marches on its stomach, you could play a vital role.  The
job carries the rank of major.  That is one way in which you could
unquestionably help America to win this war.  What do you say?"

"I'll do it, General."

"Thank you, Mr.  Rosnovski."

The general pressed a buzzer on his desk and a very young lieutenant
came in and saluted smartly.

"Lieutenant, will you take Major Rosnovski to personnel and then bring
him back to me?"

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant turned to Abel.. "Will you come this way,
please, Major?"

Abel followed him, turning as he reached the door.. "Thank you,
General," he said.

He spent the weekend in Chicago with Zaphia and Florentyna.  Zaphia
asked him what he wanted her to do with his fifteen suits.

"Hold on to them," he replied, wondering what she meant.. "I'm not going
to get myself killed in this war."

"I'm sure you're not, Abel," she replied.. "That wasn't what was
worrying me.  It's just that now they're all three sizes too large for
you."

Abel laughed and took the suits to the Polish refugee centre.  He then
returned to New York, went to the Baron, cancelled the advance guest
list, and twelve days later handed the building over to the American
Fifth Army.  The press hailed Abel's decision as a "selfless gesture',
worthy of a man who had been a refugee of the First World War.

It was another three months before Abel was called to active duty,
during which time he organised the smooth running of the New York Baron
for General Clark and then reported to Fort Benning, to complete an
officers' training programme.  When he finally did receive his orders to
join General Denvers and the Fifth Army, his destination turned out to
be somewhere in North Africa.  He began to wonder if he would ever get
to Germany.

The day before Abel left, he drew up a will, instructing his executors
to offer the Baron Group to David Maxton on favourable terms, and
dividing the rest of his estate between Zaphia and Florentyna.  It was
the first time in nearly twenty years that he had contemplated death,
not that he was sure how he could get himself killed in the regimental
canteen.

As his troop ship sailed out of New York harbour, Abel stared back at
the Statue of Liberty.  He could well remember how he had felt on seeing
the statue for the first time nearly twenty years before.  Once the ship
had passed the Lady, he did not look at her again, but said out loud,
"Next time I look at you, you French bitch, America will have won this
war."

Abel crossed the Atlantic, taking with him two of his top chefs and five
kitchen staff.  The ship docked at Algiers on 17 February 1943.  He
spent almost a year in the heat and the dust and the sand of the desert,
making sure that every member of the division was as well fed as
possible.

"We eat badly, but we eat a damn sight better than an one else,"was
General Clark's comment.

Abel commandeered the only good hotel in Algiers and turned the building
into a headquarters for General Clark.

Although Abel could see he was playing a valuable role in the war, he
itched to get into a real fight, but majors in charge of catering are
rarely sent into the front line.

He wrote to Zaphia and George and watched his beloved daughter
Florentyna grow up by photograph.  He even received an occasional letter
from Curtis Fenton, reporting that the Baron Group was making an even
larger profit because every hotel in America was packed because of the
continual movement of troops and civilians.  Abel was sad not to have
been at the opening of the new hotel in Montreal, where George had
represented him.  It was the first time that he had not been present at
the opening of a Baron, but George wrote at reassuring length of the new
hotel's great success.  Abel began to realise how much he had built up
in America and how much he wanted to return to the land he now felt was
his home.

He soon became bored with Africa and its mess kits, baked beans,
blankets and fly swatters.  There had been one or two spirited
skirmishes out there in the western desert or so the men returning from
the front assured him, but he I never saw any real action, although
often when he took the food to the front he would hear the firing, and
it made him even angrier.  One day to his excitement, General Clark's
Fifth Army was ordered to invade Southern Europe.

The Fifth Army landed on the Italian coast in amphibious craft while
American aircraft gave them tactical cover.

They met considerable resistance, first at Anzio and then at Monte
Cassino but the action never involved Abel and he dreaded the end of a
war in which he had seen no combat.

But he could never devise a plan which would get him int, the front
lines.  His chances were not improved when he w,i, promoted to
Lieutenant Colonel and sent to London to awai L further orders.

With D-Day, the great thrust into Europe began.  The Allies marched into
France and liberated Paris on 25 August 1944.  As Abel paraded with the
American and Free French soldiers down the Champs Elys6es behind General
de Gaulle to a hero's welcome, he studied the still magnificent city and
once again decided exactly where he was going to build his first Baron
hotel in France.

The Allies moved on through northern France and across the German border
in a final drive towards Berlin.  Abel was posted to the First Army
under General Bradley.  Food was coming mainly from England: local
supplies were almost non-existent, as each succeeding town at which they
arrived had already been ravaged by the retreating German army.  When
Abel arrived in a new city, it would take him only a few hours to
commandeer the entire remaining food supply before other American
quartermasters had worked out exactly where to look.  British and
American officers were always happy to dine with the Ninth Armoured
Division and would leave wondering how they had managed to requisition
such excellent supplies.  On one occasion when General George S.  Patton
joined General Bradley for dinner, Abel was introduced to the famous
general who always led his troops into battle brandishing an
ivory-handled revolver.

"The best meal I've had in the whole damn war," said Patton.

By February 1945, Abel had been in uniform for nearly three years and he
knew the war would be over in a matter of months.  General Bradley kept
sending him congratulatory notes and meaningless decorations to adom his
everexpanding uniform, but they didn't help.  Abel begged the general to
let him fight in just one battle, but Bradley wouldn't hear ofil
Although it was the duty of a junior officer to drive the food trucks up
to the front lines and then supervise the meals for the troops, Abel
often carried out the responsibility himself.  And, as in the running of
his hotels, he would never let any of his staff know when or where he
next intended to pounce.

It was the continual flow of blanket-covered stretchers into the camp
that damp St.  Patrick's Day that made Abel want to go up to the Front
and take a look for himself.  When it reached a point where he could no
longer bear a oneway traffic of bodies, Abel rounded up his men and
personally organised the fourteen food trucks.  He took with him one
lieutenant, one sergeant, two corporals, and twenty-eight privates.

The drive to the Front, although only twenty miles, was tiresomely slow
that morning.  Abel took the wheel of the first truck - it made him feel
a little like General Patton - through heavy rain and thick mud; he had
to pull off the road several times to allow ambulance details the right
of way in their return from the Front.  Wounded bodies took precedence
over empty stomachs.  Abel wished that most of them were no more than
wounded, but only the occasional nod or wave suggested any sign of life.
It became obvious to Abel with each mud-tracked mile that something big
was going on near Remagen, and he could feel the beat of his heart
quicken.  Somehow ' he knew this time he was going to be involved.

When he finally reached the command post he could hear the enemy fire in
the distance, and he started pounding his leg in anger as he watched
stretchers bringing back yet more dead and wounded comrades from he knew
not where.

Abel was sick of leaming nothing about the real war until it was part of
history.  He suspected that any reader of the New York Times was better
informed than he was.

Abel brought his convoy to a halt by the side of the field kitchen and
jumped out of the truck shielding himself from the heavy rain, feeling
ashamed that others only a few miles away were shielding themselves from
bullets.  He began to supervise the unloading of one hundred gallons of
soup, a ton of corned beef, two hundred chickens, half a ton of butter,
three tons of potatoes and one hundred and ten pound cans of baked beans
- plus the inevitable K rations - in readiness for those going to, or
returning from, the front.  When Abel arrived in the mess tent he found
it full of long tables and empty benches.  He left his two chefs to
prepare the meal and the orderlies to start peeling one thousand
potatoes while he went off in search of the duty officer.

Abel headed straight for Brigadier-General John Leonard's tent to find
out what was going on, continually passing stretchers of dead and -
worse - nearly dead soldiers, the sight of whom would have made any
ordinary man sick but at Remagen had the air of being commonplace.  As
Abel was about to enter the tent, General Leonard, accompanied by his
aide, was rushing out.  He conducted a conversation with Abel while
continuing to walk.

"What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"I have started preparing the food for your battalion as requested in
overnight orders, sir.  What ...  ?"

"You needn't bother with the food for now, Colonel.  At first light this
morning Lieutenant Burrows of the Ninth discovered an undamaged railroad
bridge north of Remagen, and I gave orders that it should be crossed
immediately and every effort made to establish a bridge head on the east
bank of the river.  Up to now, the Germans have been successful in
blowing up every bridge across the Rhine long before we reached it so we
can't hang around waiting for lunch before they demolish this one."

"Did the Ninth succeed in getting across?" asked a puffing Abel.

"Sure did," replied the general, "but they encountered heavy resistance
when they reached the forest on the far side of the river.  The first
platoons were ambushed and God knows how many men we lost.  So you had
better eat the food yourself, Colonel, because my only interest is
getting as many of my men back alive as possible."

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Abel.  The fighting commander
stopped running for a moment and studied the fat colonel.. "How many men
have you under your direct command?"

"One lieutenant, one sergeant, two corporals, and twenty-eight privates;
thirty-three in all including myself, sir."

"Good.  Report to the field hospital with your men and make yourself
useful out there by bringing back as many dead and wounded as you can
find."

"Yes, sir," said Abel and ran all the way back to the field kitchen
where he found his own men sitting in a corner smoking.  None of them
noticed when he entered the tent.

"Get up, you bunch of lazy bastards.  We've got real work to do for a
change."

Thirty-two men snapped to attention.

"Follow me," shouted Abel, "on the double."

He turned and started running again, this time towards the field
hospital.  A young doctor was briefing sixteen medical corpsmen when
Abel and his out of breath, unfit men appeared at the entrance to the
tent.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked the doctor.

"No, I hope I can help you," replied Abel.. "I have thirty-two men here
who have been detailed by General Leonard to join your group' - it was
the first time they had heard of it.  The doctor stared in amazement at
the colonel.. "Yes, sir.. "Don't call me sir," said Abel.. "We're here
to find out how we can assist you."

"Yes, sir," the doctor said again.    which He handed Abel a carton of
Red Cross armbands the chefs, kitchen orderlies and potato peeler
proceeded to put on as they listened to the doctor continue his
briefing, giving details of the action in the forest on the far side of
the Ludendorff bridge.

"The Ninth has sustained heavy casualties," he continued.. "Those
soldiers with medical expertise will remain in the battle zone, while
the rest of you will bring back as many of the wounded as possible to
this field hospital."

something Abel was delighted at the opportunity to do so positive for a
change. The doctor, now in conumnd of a team of forty-nine men, passed
out eighteen stretchers, and each soldier received a full medical pack.
He then led his motley band towards the Ludendorff bridge.  Abel was
only a yard behind him.  They started singing as they marched through
the mud and rain; they stopped singing when they reached the bridge and
were greeted by stretcher after stretcher showing clearly the outline of
a body covered only in blankets.  They marched silently across the
bridge in single file by the side of the railroad track where they could
see the results of the German explosion that had failed to destroy its
foundations.  On up towards the forest and the sound of fire, Abel found
he was excited by the thought of being so near the enemy, and horrified
by the realisation of what that enemy was capable of inflicting on his
fellow countrymen. Everywhere he turned he saw, or worse, heard cries of
anguish coming from his comrades.  Comrades who until that day had
wistfully thought the end of the war was near - but not that near.

He watched the young doctor stop again and again and do the best he
could for each man.  Sometimes he would mercifully kill a man quickly
when there was not the slightest hope of trying to patch him up.  Abel
ran from soldier to soldier organising the stretchers of those unable to
help themselves and guiding the wounded who could still walk back
towards the- Ludendorff bridge.  By the time their group reached the
edge of the forest only the doctor, one of the potato peelers and
himself were left of the original party; all the others were carrying
the dead and wounded back to the camp.

As the three of them marched into the forest they could hear the enemy
guns close by.  Abel could see the outline of a big gun, hidden in
undergrowth and still pointing towards the bridge, but now damaged
beyond repair.  Then he heard a volley of bullets that sounded so loud
that he realised for the first time that the enemy were only a few
hundred yards ahead of him.  He quickly crouched down on one knee,
expectant, his senses heightened to screaming pitch.  Suddenly there was
another burst of fire in front of him.  He jumped up and ran forward
reluctantly followed b the doctor and the potato peeler.  They ran on
for another hundred yards, when they came across a beautiful stretch of
lush green grass in a hollow covered in a bed of white crocuses,
littered with the bodies of American soldiers. Abel and the doctor ran
from corpse to corpse.. "It must have been a massacre," screamed Abel in
anger, as he heard the retreating fire.

The doctor made no comment: he had screamed three years before.

"Don't worry about the dead," was all he said.. "Just see if you can
find anyone who is still alive."

"Over here," shouted Abel as he kneeled down beside a sergeant lying in
the German mud.  Both his eyes were missing.

"He's dead, Colonel," said the doctor, not giving the man a second
glance.  Abel ran to the next body and then the next but it was always
the same and only the sight of a severed head placed upright in the mud
stopped Abel in his tracks.  He kept having to look back at it, like the
bust of some Greek god that could no longer move.  Abel recited like a
child words he had learned at the feet of the Baron: ' "Blood and
destruction shall be so in use and dreadful objects so familiar that
mothers shall but smile when they behold their infants quarter'd with
the hands of war." Does nothing change?" said Abel outraged.

"Only the battlefield," replied the doctor.

When Abel had checked thirty - or was it forty men?  - be once again
returned to the doctor who was trying to save the life of a captain who
but for a closed eye and his mouth was already swathed in blood-soaked
bandages.  Abel stood over the doctor watching helplessly, studying the
captain's shoulder patch - the Ninth Armoured - and remembered General
Leonard's words. "God knows how many men we lost today.. "Fucking
Germans," said Abel.

"Yes, sir," said the doctor.

"Is he dead?" asked Abel.

"Might as well be," replied the doctor mechanically.. "He's losing so
much blood it can only be a matter of time." He looked up.. "There's
nothing left for you to do here, Colonel, wh don't outr and et the one
survivor back to the field hospital before he dies and let the base
commander know that I intend to go forward and need every man he can
spare."

"Right," said Abel as he helped the doctor carefully lift the captain on
to a stretcher.  Abel and the potato peeler tramped slowly back towards
the camp, the doctor having warned him that any sudden movement to the
stretcher could only result in an even greater loss of blood.  Abel
didn't let the potato peeler rest for one moment during the entire
two-niile trek to the base camp.  He wanted to give the man a chance to
live and then return to the doctor in the forest.

For over an hour they trudged through the mud and the rain, and Abel
felt certain the captain had died.  When they finally reached the field
hospital both men were exhausted, and Abel handed the stretcher over to
a medical team.

As the captain was wheeled slowly away he opened his unbandaged eye
which focused on Abel.  He tried to raise his arm.  Abel saluted and
could have leapt with joy at the sight of the open eye and the moving
hand.  How he prayed that man would live.

He ran out of the hospital, eager to return to the forest with his
little band of men when he was stopped by the duty officer.

"Colonel," he said. "I have been looking for you everywhere.  There are
over three hundred men who need feeding.

Christ, man, where have you been?"

"Doing something worthwhile for a change." Abel thought about the young
captain as he headed slowly back to the field kitchen.

For both men the war was over.

The stretcher bearers took the captain into a tent and laid him gently
on an operating table.  Captain William Kane could see a nurse looking
sadly down at him, but he was unable to hear anything she was saying. He
wasn't sure if it was because his head was swathed in bandages or
because he was now deaf.  He watched her lips move, but learned nothing.
He shut his eye and thought.  He thought a lot about the past; he
thought a little about the future; he thought quickly in case he died.
He knew if he lived, there would be a long time for thinking.  His mind
turned to Kate in New York.  She had refused to accept his determination
to enlist.  He knew she would never understand, and that he would not be
able to justify his reasons to her so he had stopped trying.  The memory
of her desperate face now haunted him.  He never really considered death
no man does - and now he wanted only to live and return to his old life.

William had left Lester's under the joint control of Ted Leach and Tony
Simmons until he returned ...  until he returned.  He had given no
instructions for them to follow if he did not return.  Both of them had
begged him not to go.  Two more men who couldn't understand.  When he
signed up a few days later, he couldn't face the children.

Richard, aged ten, had found his own way to the station; he had held
back the tears until his father told him he could not go along with him
to fight the Germans.

They sent him first to an Officers' Candidate School in Vermont.  Last
time he had seen Vermont, he had been skiing with Matthew, slowly up the
hills and quickly down.  Now the journey was slow both ways.  The course
lasted for three months and made him fit again for the first time since
he had left Harvard.

His first assignment was in a London full of Yanks, where he acted as a
liaison officer between the Americans and the British.  He was billeted
at the Dorchester, which the British War Office had taken over and
seconded for use by the American army.  William had read somewhere that
Abel Rosnovski had done the same thing with the Baron in New York and he
had thoroughly approved at the time.  The blackouts, the doddle-bugs,
and the air raid warnings all made him believe that he was involved in a
war, but he felt strangely detached from what was going on only a few
hundred miles from Hyde Park Comer.  Throughout his life he had taken
the initiative, and had never been an onlooker.  Moving between
Eisenhower's staff headquarters in St.  James and Churchill's War
Operations room in Storey's Gate wasn't WilliariYs idea of initiative.
It didn't look as if he was going to meet a German face-to-face for the
entire duration of the war unless Hitler invaded Trafalgar Square.

When part of the First Army was posted to Scotland for training
exercises with the Black Watch, William was sent along as an observer
and told to report back with his findings.  The long, slow journey to
Scotland and back in a train that never stopped stopping made him
realise that he was fast becoming a glorified messenger boy and he was
beginning to wonder why he had ever signed up.  Scotland, William found,
was different.  There at least they had the air of preparing for war and
when he returned to London, he put in a request for an irmnediate
transfer to join the First Army.  His colonel, who never believed in
keeping a man who wanted to see action behind a desk, released him.

Three days later William returned to Scotland to join his new regiment
and begin his training with the American troops at Inveraray for the
invasion they all knew had to come soon.  Training was hard and intense.
Nights spent in the Scottish hills fighting mock battles with the Black
Watch made more than a slight contrast to evenings at the Dorchester
writing reports.

Three months later they were parachuted into northern France to join
Omar N.  Bradies army, moving across Europe.  The scent of victory was
in the air and William wanted to be the first soldier in Berlin.

The First Army advanced towards the Rhine, determined to cross any
bridge they could find.  Captain Kane received orders that morning that
his division was to advance over the Ludendorff bridge and engage the
enemy a mile northeast of Remagen in a forest on the far side of the
river.  He stood on the crest of a hill and watched the Ninth Division
cross the bridge, expecting it to be blown sky high at any moment.

His colonel led his own division in behind them.  He followed with the
hundred and twenty men under his command, most of them, like William,
going into action for the first time.  No more exercises with wily Scots
pretending to kill him, with blank cartridges and then a meal together
afterwards.  Germans, with real bullets, death - and perhaps no
afterwards.

When William reached the edge of the forest, he and his men met with no
resistance, so they decided to press further on into the woods.  The
going was slow and dull and William was beginning to think the Ninth
must have done such a thorough job that his division would only have to
follow them through, when from nowhere they were suddenly ambushed by a
hail of bullets and mortars, Everything seemed to be coming at them at
once.  William's men went down, trying to protect themselves among the
trees, but he lost over half of the platoon in a matter of seconds.  The
battle, if that's what it could be called, had lasted for less than a
minute, and he hadn't even seen a German.  William crouched in the wet
undergrowth for a few more seconds and then saw, to his horror, the next
Division coming through the forest.  He ran from his shelter behind a
tree to warn them of the ambush.  The first bullet hit him in the head !

and, as he sank to his knees in the German mud and continued to wave a
frantic warning to his advancing comrades, the second hit him in the
neck and a third in the chest.  He lay still in the mud and waited to
die, not having even seen the enemy - a dirty, unheroic death.

The next thing William knew, he was being carried on a stretcher, but he
couldn't hear or see anything and he wondered if it was night or whether
he was blind.

It seemed a long journey.  When his eye opened, it focused on a short
fat colonel limping out of a tent.  There was something familiar about
him, but he couldn't think what.  The stretcher bearers took him into
the operating tent and placed him on the table.  He tried to fight off
sleep for fear it might be death.  He slept.

William woke.  He was conscious of two people trying to move him.  They
were turning him over as gently as they could, and then they stuck a
needle into him.  William dreamed of seeing Kate, and then his mother,
and then Matthew playing with his son Richard.  He slept.

He woke.  He knew they had moved him to another bed; slight hope
replaced the thought of inevitable death.  He lay motionless, his one
eye fixed on the canvas roof of the tent, unable to move his head.  A
nurse came over to study a chart and then him.  He slept.

He woke.  How much time had passed?  Another nurse.  This time he could
see a little more and - joy, oh joy - he could move his head, if only
with great pain.  He lay awake as long as he possibly could; he wanted
to live.  He slept.

He woke.  Four doctors were studying him, deciding What?, He could not
hear them and so learnt nothing.

They moved him once again.  This time he was able to watch them put him
in an army ambulance.  The doors closed behind him, the engine started,
and the ambulance began to move over rough ground while a new nurse sat
by his side holding him steady.  The journey felt like an hour, but he
no longer could be sure of time.  The ambulance reached smoother ground
and then came to a halt.  Once again they moved him.  This time they
were walking on a flat surface and then up some stairs into a dark room.
They waited again and then the room began to move, another car perhaps.
The room took off.  The nurse stuck another needle into him, and he
remembered nothing until he felt a plane landing and taxiing to a halt.
They moved him yet again.  Another ambulance, another nurse, another
smell, another city.  New York, or at least America, he thought, no
other smell like that in the world.  The new ambulance took him over
another sriiooth surface, continually stopping and starting, until it
finally arrived at where it wanted to be.  They carried him out once
again and up some more steps into a small white walled room.  They
placed him in a comfortable bed.  He felt his head touch the pillow, and
when next he woke, thought he was totally alone. Then his eye focused
and he saw Kate standing in front of him.  He tried to lift his hand and
touch her, to speak, but no words came.  She smiled, but he knew she
could not see his smile, and when he woke again Kate was still there but
wearing a different dress.  Or had she come and gone many times?  She
smiled again.

How long had it been?  He tried to move his head a little, and saw his
son Richard, so tall, so good-looking.  He wanted to see his daughters,
but couldn't move his head any further.  They moved into his line of
vision, Virginia she couldn't be that old, and Lucy, it wasn't possible.
Where had the years gone?  He slept.

He woke.  No one was there, but now he could move his head.  Some
bandages had been removed and he could see more clearly; he tried to say
something, but no words came.  He slept.

He woke.  Less bandages than before.  Kate wag there again, her fair
hair longer, now falling to her shoulders, her soft grown eyes and
unforgettable smile, looking beautiful, so beautiful.  He said her name.
She smiled.  He slept.

He woke.  Even fewer bandages than before.  This time his son spoke.

Richard said. "Hello, Daddy."

He heard him and replied. "Hello, Richard," but didn't recognise the
sound of his own voice.  The nurse helped him to sit up ready to greet
his family.  He thanked her.  A doctor touched his shoulder.

"The worst is over, Mr.  Kane.  You'll soon be well, and then you can
return home."

He smiled as Kate came into the room, followed by Virginia and Lucy.  So
many questions to ask them.  Where should he begin?  There was gaps in
his memory that demanded satisfaction.  Kate told him that he had nearly
died.

He knew that but had not realised that over a year had passed since his
division had been ambushed in the forest at Remagen.

Where had the months of being unaware gone, life lost resembling death?
Richard was almost twelve, already hoping to go to Havard, Virginia was
nine, and Lucy nearly seven.  Their dresses seemed rather short.  He
would have to get to know them all over again.

Kate was somehow more beautiful than William even remembered her.  She
told William how she never learned to face the fact that he might have
died, how well Richard was doing at Buckley and how Virginia and Lucy
needed a father.  She braced herself to tell him of the scars on his
face and chest that would never heal and thanked God that the doctors
felt certain there would be nothing wrong with his mind and his sight
would be restored.  Now all she wanted to do was help him recover.  Kate
slowly, William quickly.

Each member of the family played their part in the process.  First
sound, then sight, then speech.  Richard helped his father to walk,
until he no longer needed the crutches.  Lucy helped him with his food,
until he could feed himself once more and Virginia read Mark Twain to
him.  William was not sure if the reading was for her benefit or his,
they both enjoyed it so much.  And then at last, after Christmas had
passed, they allowed him to return to his own home.

Once William was back in East Sixty-eighth Street, he recovered more
quickly, and his doctors were predicting that he would be able to return
to work at the bank within six months.  A little scarred, but very much
alive, he was allowed to see visitors.

The first was Ted Leach, somewhat taken aback at William's appearance.
Something else he would have to learn to live with for the time being.
From Ted Leach, William learned news that brought him satisfaction.
Lester's had progressed in his absence and his colleagues looked forward
to welcoming him back as their chairman.  A visit from Tony Simmons
brought him news that made him sad.  Alan Lloyd and Rupert Cork-Sn-iith
had both died.  He would miss their prudent wisdom.  And then Thomas
Cohen called to say how glad he was to learn of his recovery and to
prove, as if it were still necessary, that time had moved on by
informing William he was now semi-retired and had turned over many of
his clients to his son Thaddeus who had opened an office in New York.
William remarked on both of them being named after apostles.  Thomas
Cohen laughed and expressed the hope that Mr.  Kane would continue to
use the firm.  William assured him he would.

"By the way, I do have one piece of information you ought to know
about."

William listened to the old lawyer in silence and became angry, very
angry.

Book Five

General Alfred jodl signed the unconditional surrender at Rheims on 7
May 1945 as Abel arrived back into a New York preparing for victory
celebrations and an end to the war.  Once again, the streets were filled
with young people in unifon-n but this time their faces showed elation,
not fear.  Abel was saddened by the sight of so many men with one leg,
one arm, blind or badly scarred.  For them the war would never be over,
whatever piece of paper had been signed four thousand miles away.

When Abel walked into the Baron in his colonel's uniform, no one
recognised him.  Why should they?  When they had last seen him in
civilian clothes two years before, there were no lines on his still
youthful face.  The face they now saw was older than its thirty-nine
years and the deep, rn ridges on his forehead showed that the war had
left its mark on him.  He took the lift to his forty-second floor
office, and a security guard told him firmly he was on the wrong floor.

"Where's George Novak?" asked Abel.

"He's in Chicago, Colonel," the guard replied.

"Well, get him on the phone," said Abel.

"Who shall I say is calling him?"

"Abel Rosnovski." The guard moved quickly.

George's familiar voice crackled down the line with welcome.  At once
Abel realised just how good it felt to be back home.  He decided not to
stay in New York that night but to fly the eight hundred miles on to
Chicago.  He took with him George's up-to-date reports to study on the
plane.  He read every detail of the Baron Group's progress during the
war, and it became obvious that George had done well in keeping the
group on an even keel during Abel's absence.

His cautious stewardship left Abel with no complaints; the profits were
still high because so many staff had been called up to fight in the war,
while the hotels had remained full because of the continual movement of
personnel across America.  Abel decided that he would have to start
employing new staff immediately, before other hotels picked up the best
of those returning from the Front.

When he arrived at Midway Airport, Terminal I IC, George was standing by
the gate waiting to greet him.  He'd hardly changed, a little more
weight, a little less hair perhaps, and within an hour of swapping
stories and bringing each other up to date on the past three years, it
was almost as though Abel had never been away.  Abel would always be
thankful to the Black Arrow for the introduction to his senior
vice-president.

George, however, was uncharitable about Abel's limp which seemed more
pronounced since he'd gone off to the war.

"The Hopalong Cassidy of the hotel business," he said mockingly.. "Now
you don't have a leg to stand on."

"Only a Pole would make such a dumb crack," replied Abel.

George stared at Abel, looking slightly hurt, as a puppy does when
scolded by its master.

"Thank God I had a dumb Polack to take care of everything while I was
away looking for Germans," Abel added reassuringly.

Abel couldn't resist checking once around the Chicago Baron before he
drove home.  The veneer of luxury had worn rather thin during the
wartime shortages.  He could see several things that needed renovation,
but they would have to wait, because now all he wanted to do was see his
wife and daughter.  That was when the first shock came.

In George he had seen little change in three years, but Florentyna was
now eleven and had blossomed into a beautiful young girl, while Zaphia,
although only thirty-eight, had become plump, dowdy and distinctly
middle-aged.

to To begin with, the two of them were not sure quite how treat one
another, and after only a few weeks Abel began to realise that their
relationship was never going to be the same again.  Zaphia made little
effort to excite Abel or take any pride in his achievements.  It
saddened Abel to observe her lack of interest and he tried to get her
involved in his life once again but she did not respond to any of his
suggestions.  She only seemed contented when staying at home and having
as little to do with the Baron Group as possible.  He resigned himself
to the fact that she could never change and wondered how long he could
remain faithful to her.  While he was enchanted with Florentyna, Zaphia,
without her looks and with her figure gone, left him cold.  When they
slept together he avoided making love, and, on the rare occasions when
they did, he thought of other women.  Soon he began to find any excuse
to be away from Chicago and Zaphia's despondent and silently accusing
face.

He began by making long trips to his other hotels, taking Florentyna
along with him during her school holidays.

He spent the first six months after his return to America visiting every
hotel in the Baron Group in the same way he had done when he had taken
over the company after Davis Leroy's death.  Within the year, they were
all back to the high standard he expected of them, but Abel wanted to
move forward again.  He informed Curtis Fenton at the group's next
quarterly meeting that his market research team was now advising him to
build a hotel in Mexico and another in Brazil, and they were also
searching for new lands on which to erect a Baron.

"The Mexico City Baron and the Rio de Janeiro Baron," said Abel.  He
liked the ring of those names.

"Well, you have adequate funds to cover the building costs," said Curtis
Fenton.. "The cash has certainly been accumulating in your absence.  You
could build a Baron almost anywhere you choose.  Heaven knows where
you'll stop, Mr.  Rosnovski."

"One day, Mr.  Fenton, I'll put a Baron in Warsaw, and then I'll think
about stopping," replied Abel.. "I may have licked the Germans, but I
still have a little score to settle with the Russians."

Curtis Fenton laughed.  Only later that evening when he repeated the
story to his wife did he decide that Abel Rosnovski had meant exactly
what he had said ...  a Baron in Warsaw.

"Now where do I stand with Kane's bank?"

The sudden change in Abel's tone bothered Curtis Fenton.  It worried him
that Abel Rosnovski still clearly held Kane responsible for Davis
Leroy's premature death.  He opened the special file and started
reading.

"Lester, Kane and Company's shares are divided among fourteen members of
the Lester family and six past and present employees while Mr.  Kane
himself is the largest stockholder, holding eight percent."

"Are any of the Lester family willing to sell their shares?" enquired
Abel.

"Perhaps if we can offer the right price.  Miss Susan Lester, the late
Charles Lester's daughter, has given us reason to believe she might
consider parting with her shares, and Mr.  Peter Parfitt, a former
vice-chairman of Lester's, has also showed some interest in our
approaches.. "What percentage do they both hold?"

"Susan Lester holds six percent.  While Peter Parfitt has only two
percent."

"How much do they want for their shares?"

Curtis Fenton looked down at his file again while Abel glanced at
Lester's latest annual report.  His eyes came to a halt on Article
Seven.

"Miss Susan Lester wants two million dollars for her six percent and Mr.
Parfitt one million dollars for his two percent."

"Mr.  Parfitt is greedy," said Abel.. "We will therefore wait until he
is hungry.  Buy Miss Susan Leste'r's shares immediately without
revealing whom you represent and keep me briefed on any change of heart
by Mr. Parfitt." Curtis Fenton coughed.

"Is something bothering you, Mr.  Fenton?" asked Abel.

Curtis Fenton hesitated.. "No, nothing," he said unconvincingly.

"From now on I am putting someone in overall charge of the account whom
you will know or certainly know of Henry Osborne."

"Congressman Osborne?" asked Curtis Fenton.

"Yes - are you acquainted with him?"

"Only by reputation," said Fenton, with a faint note of disapproval, his
head bowed.

Abel ignored the implied comment.  He was only too aware of Henry's
reputation, but while he had the ability to cut out all the middle men
of bureaucracy and could ensure quick political decisions, he considered
the risk was worthwhile.  Not to mention the bond of common loathing of
Kane.. "I'm also inviting Mr.  Osborne to be a director of the Baron
Group with special responsibility for the Kane account.  This
information must, as always, be treated in the strictest confidence."

"As you wish," said Fenton unhappily, wondering if he should express his
personal misgivings to Abel Rosnovski.

"Brief me as soon as you have closed the deal with Miss Susan Lester."

"Yes, Mr Rosnovski," said Curtis Fenton without raising his head.

Abel returned to the Baron for lunch, where Henry Oshome was waiting to
join him.

"Congressman," said Abel as they met in the foyer.

"Baron," said Henry, and they laughed and went, arm-in-arm into the
dining room and sat at the corner table.

Abel chastised a waiter for serving at table when a button was missing
from his tunic.

"How's your wife, Abel?"

"Swell.  And your's Henry?"

"Just great." They were both lying. "Any news to report?"

"Yes, That concession you needed in Atlanta has been taken care of,"
said Henry in a conspiratorial voice.. "The necessary documents will be
pushed through some time in the next few days.  You'll be able to start
building the Atlanta Baron round the first of the month."

"We're not doing anything too illegal, are we?"

"Nothing your competitors aren't up to - that I can promise you, Abel."
Henry Osborne laughed.

"I'm glad to hear that, Henry.  I dot want any trouble with the law."

"No, no," said Henry.. "Only you and I know all the facts.. "Good," said
Abel.. "You've made yourself very useful to me over the years, Henry,
and I have a little reward '-o-ryour past services.  How would you like
to become a director of the Baron Group?"

"I'd be flattered, Abel."

"Don't give me that.  You know you've been invaluable with these state
and city permits.  I'd never have had the time to deal with all those
politicians and bureaucrats.  In any case, Henry, they prefer to deal
with a Harvard man i even if he doest so much open doors, as simply
kick.  them down."

"You've been very generous in return, Abel."

"It's no more than you have earned.  Now, I want you to take on an even
bigger job which is close to my heart.

This exercise will also require complete secrecy, but it shouldn't take
too much of your time and it will give us a little i-cvenge on our
mutual friend from Boston, Mr.  William Kane."

The maitre dhotel arrived with two large rump steaks, medium rare. Henry
listened intently as Abel unfolded his plans for William Kane.

A few days later on 8 May 1946, Abel travelled to New York to celebrate
the first anniversary of V-E day.  He had laid on a dinner for over a
thousand Polish veterans at the Baron Hotel and had invited General
Kazimierz Sosnkowski, commander-in-chief of the Polish Forces in France
after 1943, to be the guest of honour.  Abel had looked forward
impatiently to the event for weeks and took Florentyna with him to New
York while leaving Zaphia behind in Chicago.

On the night of the celebration, the banqueting room of the New York
Baron looked magnificent, each of the one hundred and twenty tables
decorated with the stars and stripes of America and the white and red of
the Polish national flag.  Huge photographs of Eisenhower, Patton,
Bradley, Hodges, Paderewski and Sikorski festooned the walls.  Abel sat
at the centre of the head table with the general on his right and
Florentyna on his left.  , When General Sosnkowski rose to address the
gathering, tie announced that Lieutenant Colonel Rosnovski had been made
a life president of the Polish Veterans' Society, in acknowledgment of
the personal sacrifices he had made for the Polish-American cause, and
in particular for his generous gift of the New York Baron throughout the
entire duration of the war.  Someone who had drunk a little too much
shouted from the back of the room.

"Those of us who survived the Germans had to survive Abel's food as
well."

The thousand veterans laughed and cheered, toasted Abel in Danzig vodka
and then fell silent as the general talked of the plight of post-war
Poland, in the grip of Stalinist Russia, urging his fellow expatriates
to be tireless in their c axn pa,gn to secure the ultimate sovereignty
of their native land.  Abel wanted to believe that Poland would one day
be free again and that he might even live to see his castle restored to
him, but doubted if that was realistic after Stalin's success at the
Yalta agreement.

The general went on to remind the guests that PolishAmericans had, per
capita, sacrificed more lives and given more money for the war than any
other single ethnic group in the United States.  How many Americans
would believe that Poland lost six million of her countrymen while
Czechoslovakia only lost one hundred thousand.

Some observers declare we were stupid not to surrender when we must have
known we were beaten.  How could a nation that staged a cavalry charge
against the might of the Nazi tanks ever believe they were beaten and my
friends I tell you we are not beaten now." Every Pole in the room
applauded the general loudly.

Abel felt sad to think that most Americans would still laugh at the
thought of the Polish war effort - or, funnier still, a Polish war hero.
The general then waited for complete silence to tell an intent audience
the story of how Abel had led a band of men to recover troops who had
been killed or wounded at the battle of Remagen.  When the general had
finished his speech and sat down, the veterans stood and cheered the two
men resoundingly.  Florentyna felt very proud of her father.

Abel was surprised when the story hit the papers the next morning, as
Polish achievements were rarely reported in any medium other than
Dziennik Zwiazkiwy.  He doubted that the press would have bothered on
this occasion had he not been the Chicago Baron.  Abel basked in his
new-found glory as an unsung American hero and spent most of the day
having his photograph taken and giving interviews to newsmen.

By the evening Abel felt a sense of anti-climax.  The geneml had flown
on to Los Angeles and another function, Florentyna had returned to
school in Lake Forest, George was in Chicago, and Henry Osborne in
Washington.  The hotel seemed rather large and empty, and he felt no
desire to return to Zaphia in Chicago.

He decided to have an early dinner and go over the weekly reports from
the other hotels in the group before returning to the penthouse
adjoining his office.  He seldom ate alone in his private suite as he
welcomed the opportunity of being served in one of the dining rooms
whenever possible; it was one of the sure ways to keep in constant touch
with hotel life.  The more hotels he acquired and built, the more he
feared losing touch with his staff on the ground.

He took the lift, downstairs and stopped at the reception desk to ask
how many people were booked into the hotel that night, but he was
distracted by a striking woman signing a registration form.  He could
have sworn he recognised the profile, but it was difficult to be certain
from the side.

Mid-tErties, he thought.  When she had finished writing, she turned and
looked at him.

"Abel," she said.. "How marvelous to see you.. "Good God, Melanie.  I
hardly recognised you.. "No one could fail to recognise you, Abel.. "I
didn't know you were in New York."

"Only overnight.  I'm here on some business for my magazine."

"You're a journalist?" asked Abel with a hint of disbelief.

"No, I'm the economic advisor to a group of magazines whose headquarters
are in Dallas, and they've sent me to New York on a market research
project."

"Sounds very impressive."

"I can assure you it isn't," said Melanie, "but it keeps me out of
mischief."

"Are you free for dinner, by any chance?"

"What a nice idea, Abel, but I need a bath and a change of clothes if
you don't mind waiting?"

"Sure, I can wait.  I'll meet you in the main dining room whenever
you're ready.  Come to my table, say in about an hour."

She smiled in agreement and followed a bellhop to the lift.  He noticed
her perfume as she passed him.

Abel spent the hour checking the dining room to be sure that his table
had fresh flowers, and the kitchen to select the dishes he would order
for Melanie.  Finally, by lack of anything better to do, he was
compelled to sit down.  He found himself glancing at his watch and
looking at the dining room door every few moments to see if Melanie
would walk in.  She took a little over an hour but it turned out to be
worth the wait.  When at last she appeared at the doorway, in a long
clinging dress that shimmered and sparkled in the dining room lights in
an unmistakably expensive way, she looked ravishing.  The maitre d'
ushered her to Abel's table.  He rose to greet her as a waiter opened a
bottle of vintage Krug and poured them both a glass.

"Welcome, Melanie," said Abel as he raised his goblet.. "It's good to
see you in the Baron."

"It's good to see the Baron," she replied, "especially on his day of
celebration."

"What do you mean?" asked Abel.

"I read all about your big dinner in the New York Post tonight, how you
risked your own life to save those who had been wounded at Remagen.  It
kept me glued to the page all the way over here from the station.  They
made you sound like a cross between Audie Murphy and the Unknown
Soldier."

"It's all exaggerated," said Abel.  i I've never known you to be modest
about anything before Abel, so I can only believe every word must be
true."

He poured her a second glass of champagne.

"The truth is, I've always been a little frightened of you, Melanie."

"The Baron is frightened of someone?  I don't believe it.. "Well, I'm no
Southern gentleman, as you once made very clear, my dear."

"And you have never stopped reminding me." She smiled, teasingly.. "Did
you marry your nice Polish girl?"

"Yes, I did."

"How did that work out?"

"Not so well.  She's now fat and forty and no longer has any appeal for
me."

"You'll be telling me next that she doesn't understand you, said
Melanie, the tone of her voice betraying her pleasure at his reply.

"And did you find yourself a husband?" asked Abel.. "Oh, yes," replied
Melanie.. "I married a real Southern gentleman with all the right
credentials."

"Many congratulations," said Abel.

"I divorced him last year ...  with a large settlement.. "Oh, I'm
sorry," said Abel, sounding pleased.. "More champagne?"

"Are you by any chance trying to seduce me, Abel?"

"Not before you've finished your soup, Melanie.  Even firstgeneration
Polish immigrants have some standards, although I must admit it's my
turn to do the seducing."

"Then I must warn you, Abel, I haven't slept with another man since my
divorce came through.  No lack of offers, but no one's been quite right.
Too many groping hands and not enough affection."

After smoked salmon, young lamb, crme brul6e and a pre-war Mouton
Rothschild, they had both thoroughly reviewed their lives since their
last meeting.

"Coffee in the penthouse, Melanie?"

"Do I have any choice, after such an excellent meal?" she enquired.

Abel laughed and escorted her out of the dining room and into the lift.
She was teetering very slightly on her high heels as she entered.  Abel
touched the button marked "fortytwo'.  Melanie looked up at the numbers
as they ticked by.

"Why no twelfth floor?" she asked innocently.  Abel could not find the
words to reply.

"The last time I had coffee in your room ..." Melanie tried again.

"Don't remind me," said Abel, remembering his own vulnerability.  As
they stepped out of the lift on the forty-second floor, the bellhop
opened the door of his suite.

"Good God," said Melanie, as her eyes swept round the inside of the
penthouse for the first time.. "I must say, Abel, you've learned how to
adjust to the style of a multi-millionaire.  I've never seen anything
more extravagant in my life." A knock at the door stopped Abel as he was
about to reach out for her.  A young waiter appeared with a pot of
coffee and a bottle of R6my Martin.

"Thank you Mike," said Abel.. "That will be all for tonight.. "Will it?"
She smiled.

The waiter would have turned red if he hadn't been black and left
quickly.

Abel poured her coffee and brandy.  She sipped slowly, sitting
cross-legged on the floor.  Abel would have sat crosslegged as well, but
he couldn't quite manage the position, so instead he lay down beside
her.  She stroked his hair, and tentatively he began to move his hand up
her leg.  God, how well he remembered those legs.  As they kissed for
the first time, Melanie kicked a shoe off and knocked her coffee all
over the Persian carpet.

"Oh, hell," she said.. "I've ruined your beautiful carpet."

"Forget it," said Abel, as he pulled her back into his arms and started
to unzip her dress.  Melanie unbuttoned his shirt, and Abel tried to get
it off while he was still kissing her, but his cufflinks stopped him, so
he helped her out of her dress instead.  Her figure had lost none of its
beauty and was exactly as he remembered it, except that it was
enticingly fuller.  Those firm breasts and long graceful legs.  He gave
up the one-handed battle with the cufflinks and released her from his
grasp to undress himself, aware what an abrupt physical contrast he must
have appeared compared to her beautiful body.  He hoped all he had read
about women being fascinated by powerful men was true.

She didt seem to grimace as she once had at the sight of him.  Gently,
he caressed her breasts and began to part her legs.  The Persian car-pet
was proving better than any bed.  It was her turn to try to undress
completely while they were kissing.  She too gave up and finally took
off everything except for - at Abel's request - her garter belt and
nylon stockings.

When he heard her moan, he was aware how long it had been since he had
experienced such ecstasy - and then  how quickly the sensation was past.
Neither of them spoke for several moments, both breathing heavily.

Then Abel chuckled.

"What are you laughing at?" Melanie enquired.

"Nothing," said Abel, recalling Dr.  johnson's observation about the
position being ridiculous and the pleasure moinentary.

Abel rolled over, and Metania rested her head on his shoulder.  Abel was
surprised to find that he no longer wanted to be near Melanie, and as he
lay there wondering how to get rid of her without actually being rude,
she said. "I'm afraid I cat stay all night, Abel, I have an early
appointment tomorrow and I must get some sleep.  I don't want to look as
if I sent the nit on ur Persian carpet."

"Must you go?" said Abel, sounding desperate, but not too desperate.

"I'm sorry, darling, yes." She stood up and walked to the bathroom.

Abel watched her dress, and helped her with her zipper.  How much easier
the garment was to fasten at leisure than it had been to unfasten in
haste.  He kissed her gallantly on the hand as she left.

"I hope we'll see each other again soon," he said, lying.

"I hope so, too," she said, aware that he did not mean it.

He closed the door behind her and walked over to the phone by his bed.

"Which room was Miss Melanie Leroy booked into?" he asked, There was a
moment's pause; he could hear the flicking of the registration cards.

Abel tapped impatiently on the table.

"There's no one registered under that name, sir," came the eventual
reply.. "We have a Mrs.  Melanie Seaton from Dallas, Texas, who arrived
this evening, sir, and checks out tomorrow morning?"

"Yes that will be the lady," said Abel.. "See that her bill is charged
to me.. "Yes, sir."

Abel replaced the phone and took a long cold shower before preparing for
bed.  He felt relaxed as he walked over to the fire to turn out the lamp
that had illuminated his first adulterous act and noticed that the large
coffee stain had now dried on his Persian carpet.

"Silly bitch," he said out loud and switched off the light.

After that night, Abel found that several more coffee stains appeared on
the Persian carpet during the next few months, some caused by
waitresses, some by other nocturnal visitors, as he and Zaphia grew
further apart.  What he hadret anticipated was that she would hire a
private detective to check on him and then sue for a divorce.  Divorce
was almost or desertion being far more common.  Abel even tried to talk
Zaphia out of her desired course, only too aware it would do nothing to
enhance his standing in the Polish community, and certain it would not
advance any social or political ambitions he had started to hanker
after.  But Zaphia was determined to carry the divorce proceedings to
their bitter conclusion.  Abel was surprised to find that the woman who
had been so unsophisticated in his triumph was, to use George's words, a
little demon in her revenge.

When Abel consulted his own lawyer, he found out for the second time
just how many waitresses and non-paying guests there had been during the
last year.  He gave in and the only thing he fought for was the custody
of Florentyna, now thirteen, and the first true love of his life. Zaphia
agreed after a long struggle, accepting a settlement of five hundred
thousand dollars, the deed to the house in Chicago, and the right to see
Florentyna on the last weekend in every month.

Abel moved his headquarters and permanent home to New York and George
dubbed Mm the Chicago Baron-inexile, as he roamed America north and
south building new hotels, only returning to Chicago when he had to see
Curtis Fenton.

The letter lay open on a table by William's chair in the living room. He
sat in his dressing gown reading it for the third time, trying to figure
out why Abel Rosnovski would want to buy so heavily into Lester's Bank,
and why he had appointed Henry Osborne as a director of the Baron Group.
William felt he could no longer take the risk of guessing and picked up
the phone.

The new Mr.  Cohen turned out to be a younger version of his father.
When he arrived at East 68th Street, he had no need to introduce
himself; the hair was beginning to go grey and thin in exactly the same
places and the round body was encased in an exactly similar suit.
Perhaps, it was in fact the same suit.  William stared at him, but not
simply because he looked so like his father.

"You don't remember me, Mr.  Kane," said the lawyer.

"Good God," said William.. "The great debate at Harvard.  Nineteen
twenty..."

"Twenty-eight.  You won the debate and sacrificed your membership of the
Porcellian."

William burst cut laughing.. "Maybe we'll do better on the same team, if
your brand of socialism will allow you to act for an unabashed
capitalist."

He rose to shake hands with Thaddeus Cohen.  For a moment, they both
might have been undergraduates again.

William smiled.. "You never did get that drink at the Porcellian.  What
would you like?"

Thaddeus Cohen declined the offer.. "I don't drink," he said, blinking
in the same disarming way that William recalled so well.  '...  and I'm
afraid I'm now an unabashed capitalist, too."

He turned out to have his father's head on his shoulders mentally as
well as physically, and had clearly briefed himself on the
Rosnovski-Osborne file to the finest detail before he faced William.
William explained exactly what he now required.

"An immediate report and a further updated one every three months as in
the past.  Secrecy is still of paramount importance," he said, "but I
want every fact you can lay your hands on.  Why is Abel Rosnovski buying
the bank's shares?  Does he still feel I am responsible for Davis
Leroy's death?  Is he continuing his battle with Kane and Cabot even now
that they are part of Lester's?  What role does Henry Osborne play in
all of this?  Would a meeting between myself and Rosnovski help,
especially if I tell him that it was the bank, not I who refused to
support the Richmond Group?"

Thaddeus Cohen's pen was scratching away as furiously as his father's
had before him.

"All these questions must be answered as quickly as possible so that I
can decide if it's necessary to brief my board." Thaddeus Cohen gave his
father's shy smile as he shut his briefcase.. "I'm sorry that you should
be troubled in this way while you are still convalescing.  I'll be back
to you as soon as I can ascertain the facts." He paused at the door.. "I
admire greatly what you did at Remagen."

William recovered his sense of well-being and vigour rapidly in the
following months, and the scars on his face and chest faded into
relative insignificance.  At night Kate would sit up with him until he
fell asleep and whisper. "Thank God you were spared." The terrible
headaches and periods of amnesia grew to be things of the past, and the
strength returned to his right arm.  Kate would not allow him to return
to work until they had taken a long and relaxing cruise in the West
Indies.  William relaxed with Kate more than at any time since their two
weeks together in London.  She revelled in the fact that there were no
banks on the ship for Mm to do business with, although she feared if
they stayed on board another week William would have acquired the
floating vessel as one of Lester's latest assets, reorganising the crew,
routes, timings and even the way they sailed "the boat', as William
insisted on called the great liner.  He was tanned and restless once the
ship docked in New York Harbour, and Kate could not dissuade him from
returning immediately to the bank.

He soon became deeply involved again in Lester's problems.  A new breed
of men, toughened by war, enterprising and fast-moving, seemed to be
running America's modern banks, under the watchful eye of President
Tnunan, the man who had won a surprise victory for a second term in the
White House after the world had been informed that Dewey was certain to
win the election.  As if not satisfied with their prediction, the
Chicago Tribune went on to announce that Dewey had actually won the
election, but it was Harry S.  Truman who remained in the White House.
William knew very little about the diminutive ex-senator from Missouri,
except what he read in the newspapers, and as a staunch Republican, he
hoped that his party would find the right man to lead them into the 1952
campaign.

The first report came in from Thaddeus Cohen; Abel Rosnovski was still
looking for shares in Lester's bank and had approached all the other
benefactors of the will but only one agreement had been concluded. Susan
Lester had refused to see William's lawyer when he approached her, so he
was unable to discover why she had sold her six percent.  All he could
ascertain was that she had no financial reason for doing so. "Hell hath
no fury," mumbled William.

The document was admirably comprehensive.

Henry Osborne, it seemed, had been appointed a director of the Baron
Group in May of 1947, with special responsibility for the Lester's
account.  More importantly, Abel Rosnovski secured Susan Lester's shares
without it being possible to trace the acquisition back to either him or
to Osborne.  Rosnovski now owned six percent of Lester's Bank and
appeared to be willing to pay at least another $750,000 to obtain Peter
Parfitt's two percent.  William was only too aware of the actions Abel
Rosnovski could carry out once he was in possession of eight percent.
Even more worrying to William was the fact that the growth rate of
Lester's compared unfavourably with that of the Baron Group, which was
already catching up its main rivals, the Hilton and the Sheraton Groups.
William began to wonder if it would now be wise to brief his board of
directors on this newly obtained information, and even whether he ought
not to contact Abel Rosnovski direct.  After some sleepless nights, he
turned to Kate for advice.

"Do nothing," was Kate's reaction, "until you can be absolutely certain
that his intentions are as disruptive as you fear.  The whole affair may
turn out to be a tempest in a teapot."

"With Henry Osborne as his hatchet man you can be sure that the tempest
will pour far beyond the teacup : nothing can be totally innocent.  I
don't have to sit around and wait to find out what he is planning for
me."

"He might have changed, William.  It must be twenty years since you've
had any personal dealings with him.. "Al Capone might have changed, if
he had been allowed to complete his jail sentence.  We'll never know for
certain, but I would not be willing to put a bet on it."

Kate added nothing more, but William let himself be persuaded by her and
did little except to keep a close eye on Thaddeus Cohen's quarterly
reports and hope that Kate's intuition would turn out to be right.

The Baron Group profited greatly from the post-war explosion in the
American economy.  Not since the twenties had it been so easy to make so
much money so quickly - and by the early fifties, people were beginning
to believe that this time it was going to last.  But Abel was not
content with financial success alone; as he grew older, he began to
worry about Poland's place in the post-war world and to feel that his
success did not allow him to be a bystander four thousand miles away.
What had Pawel Zaleski, the Polish consul in Turkey said?"

"Perhaps in your lifetime you will see Poland rise again." Abel did
everything he could to influence and persuade the United States Congress
to take a more militant attitude towards Russian control of its Eastern
European satellites.  It seemed to Abel, as he watched one puppet
socialist government after another come into being, that he had risked
his life for nothing.  He began to lobby Washington politicians, brief
journalists and organise dinners in Chicago and New York and other
centres of the Polish-American community, until the Polish cause itself
became synonymous with the Chicago Baron, Dr.  Teodor Szymanowski,
formerly professor of history at the university of Cracow, wrote a
glowing editorial about Abel'. "Fight To Be Recognised' in the journal
Freedom, which prompted Abel to contact him and see what else he could
do to help.  The professor was now an old man, and when Abel was ushered
into his study, he was surprised by the frailty of his appearance,
knowing the vigour of his opinions.  He greeted Abel warmly and poured
him a Danzig vodka.. "Baron Rosnovski," he said handing him the glass,
"I have long admired the way you work on and on for our cause and
although we make such little headway, you never seem to lose faith."

"Why should I?  I have always believed anything is possible in America."

"But I fear, Baron, the very men you are now trying to influence are the
same ones who had allowed these things to take place.  They will never
do anything positive to free our people."

"I do not understand what you mean, Professor," said Abel.. "Why will
they not help us?"

The professor leaned his back in his chair.. "You are surely aware'
Baron, that the American armies were given specific orders to slow down
their advance east to allow the Russians to take as much of central
Europe as they could lay their hands on.  Patton could have been in
Berlin long before the Russians but Eisenhower told him to hold back.

It was our leaders in Washington - the same men you are trying to
persuade to put American guns and troops back into Europe - who gave
those orders to Eisenhower."

"But they couldn't have known then what the U.S.S.R.  would eventually
become.  The Russians were then our allies.  I accept that we were too
weak and conciliatory with them in 1945, but it was not the Americans
who directly betrayed the Polish people."

Before Szymanowski spoke, he leaned back again and closed his eyes
wearily.

"I wish you could have known my brother, Baron Rosnovski.  I had word
only last week that he died six months ago, in a Soviet camp not unlike
the one from which you escaped."

Abel moved forward as if to offer sympathy, but Szymanowski raised his
hand.

"No, don't say anything.  You have known the camps yourself.  You would
be the first to realise that sympathy is no longer important.  We must
change the world, Baron, while others sleep." Szymanowski paused.. "My
brother was sent to Russia by the Americans."

Abel looked at him in astonishment.

"By the Americans?  How is that possible?  If your brother was captured
in Poland by Russian troops .  .  ."

"My brother was never taken prisoner in Poland.  He was liberated from a
German war camp near Frankfurt.  The Americans kept him in a D.P.  camp
for a month and then they handed him over to the Russians."

"It can't be true.  Why would they do that?"

"The Russians wanted all Slavs repatriated.  Repatriated so that they
could then be exterminated or enslaved.  The ones that Hitler didn't
get, Stalin did.  And I can prove my brother was in the American Sector
for over a month."

"But," Abel began, "was he an exception or were there many others like
him?"

"He was no exception: there were many others," said Szymanowski without
apparent emotion.. "Hundreds of thousands.  Perhaps as many as a
million.  I don't think we will ever know the true figures.  It's most
unlikely the American authorities ever kept careful records of Operation
Kee Chanl."

"Operation Kee Chanl?  Why don't people ever mention this?  Surely if
others realised that we, the Americans, had been sending liberated
prisoners back to die in Russia, they would be horrified."

"There is no proof, no known documentation of Operation Kee Chanl.  Mark
Clark, God bless him, disobeyed his orders and a few of the prisoners
were warned in advance by some kindly disposed G.I.s, and they managed
to escape before the Americans could send them to the camps.  But they
are now lying low and would never admit as much.  One of the unlucky
ones was with my brother.  Anyway, it's too late now."

"But the American people must be told.  I'll form a committee, print
pamphlets, make speeches.  Surely Congress will listen to us if we tell
them the truth."

"Baron Rosnovski, I think this one is too big even for you."

Abel rose from his seat.

"No, no, I do not underestimate you, my friend.  But you do not yet
understand the mentality of world leaders.

America agreed to hand over those poor devils because Stalin demanded as
much.  I am sure they never thought that there would be trials, labour
camps and executions to follow.  But now, as we approach the fifties, no
one is going to admit they were indirectly responsible?  No, they will
never do that.  Not for a hundred years.  And then, all but a few
historians will have for-gotten that Poland lost more lives in the war
than any other single nation on earth, including Germany."

"I had hoped the one conclusion you might come to was that you must play
a more direct role in politics."

"I have already been considering the idea but cannot decide what form it
should take."

"I have my own views on that subject, Baron, so keep in touch."

The old man raised himself slowly to his feet and embraced Abel.. "In
the meantime do what you can for our cause, but don't be surprised when
you meet closed doors."

The moment Abel returned to The Baron, he picked up the phone and told
the hotel operator to get Mm Senator Douglas' office.  Paul Douglas was
Illinois' liberal Democratic senator, elected with the help of the
Chicago machine, and he had always been helpful and responsive to any of
Abel's past requests, mindful of the fact that his constituency
contained the largest Polish community in the country.  His assistant,
Adam Tomaszewicz always dealt with his Polish constituents.

"Hello, Adam.  It's Abel Rosnovski.  I have something very disturbing to
discuss with the senator.  Could you arrange an early meeting with him?"

"I'm afraid he's out of town today, Mr.  Rosnovski.  I know he'll be
glad to speak with you as soon as he returns on Thursday.  I'll ask him
to call you direct.  Can I tell him what it's all about?"

"Yes.  As a Pole you will be interested.  I've heard reports from
reliable sources that the U.S.  authorities in Germany assisted in the
return of displaced Polish citizens to territories occupied by the
Soviet Union, and that many of these Polish citizens were then sent on
to Russian labour camps and have never been heard of since."

There was a moment's silence from the other end of the line.

"I'll brief the senator on his return, Mr.  Rosnovski," said Adam
Tomaszewicz.. "Thank you for calling."

The senator did not get in touch with Abel on Thursday.  Nor did he try
on Friday or over the weekend.  On Monday morning, Abel put through
another call to his office.  Again, Adam Tomaszewicz answered the
telephone.

"Oh, yes, Mr.  Rosnovski." Abel could almost hear him blushing.. "The
senator did leave a message for you.  He's been very busy, you know,
what with all the emergency bills that have to be acted on before
Congress recesses.  He asked me to let you know that he'll call back
just as soon as he has a spare moment."

"Did you give him my message?"

"Yes, of course.  He asked me to assure you that he felt certain the
rumour you heard was nothing more than a piece of anti-American
propaganda.  He added that he'd been told personally by one of the joint
Chiefs that American troops had orders not to release any of the D.P.s
under their supervision."

Tomaszewicz sounded as if he was reading a carefully prepared statement,
and Abel sensed that he had encountered the first of those closed doors.
Senator Douglas had never evaded I-Lim in the past.

Abel put down the phone and dialed the number of another senator who did
make news and didn't evade sitting in judgment on anybody.

Senator Joseph McCarthy's office came on the line asking who was
calling.. "I'll try and find the senator," said a young voice when she
heard who it was and his reason for wanting to speak to her boss.
McCarthy was approaching the peak of his power, and Abel realised he
would be lucky to have more than a few moments on the phone with him.

"Mr.  Rosenevski," were McCarthy's first words.

Abel wondered if he had mangled his name on purpose, or if it was a bad
connection.. "What is it you wanted to discuss with me and no one else,
this matter of grave urgency?" the senator asked.  Abel hesitated;
actually speaking to McCarthy directly had slightly taken him aback.

"Your secrets are safe with me," he heard the senator say, sensing his
hesitation.

"If you say so," said Abel and paused for a moment to collect his
thoughts.. "You, Senator, have been a forthright spokesman for those of
us who would like to see the Eastern European nations freed from the
yoke of communism."

"So I have.  So I have.  And I'm glad to see you appreciate the fact,
Mr.  Rosenevski."

This time Abel was sure he had mispronounced his name on purpose, but
resolved not to comment on it.

"As for Eastern Europe," the senator continued, "you must realise that
only after the traitors have been driven from within our own government
can any real action be taken to free your captive country."

"That is exactly what I want to speak to you about, Senator' You have
had a brilliant success in exposing treachery within our own government.
But to date, one of the communists' greatest crimes has as yet gone
unpublicised."

"Just what great crime did you have in mind, Mr.  Rosenevski?  I have
found so many since I came to Washington.. "I am referring' - Abel drew
himself up a little straighter in his chair - "to the forced
repatriation of thousands of displaced Polish citizens by the American
authorities after the war ended.  Innocent enemies of communism who were
sent back to Poland, and then on to the U.S.S.R., to be enslaved and
sometimes murdered."

Abel waited for a response, but none was forthcoming.  He heard a click
and wondered if someone else was listening to the conversation.

"Now, Rosenevski, listen to me, you simpleton.  You dare to phone me to
say that Americans - loyal United States soldiers - sent thousands of
Poles back to Russia and nobody heard a word about it?  Are you asking
me to believe that?  Even a Polack couldn't be that stupid.  And I
wonder what kind of person accepts a lie like that without any proof? Do
you want me also to believe that American soldiers are disloyal?  Is
that what you want?  Tell me, Rosenevski, tell me what it is with you
people?  Are you too stupid to recognise communist propaganda even when
it hits you right in the face?  Do you have to waste the time of an
overworked United States senator because of a rumour cooked up by the
Pravda slime to create unrest in America's immigrant communities?"

Abel sat motionless, stunned by the outburst.  Before half of his tirade
was over, Abel felt that any counter argument was going to be pointless.
He waited for the histrionic speech to come to an end, and was glad the
senator couldn't see his startled face.

"Senator, I'm sure you're right and I'm sorry to have wasted your time,"
Abel said quietly.. "I hadn't thought of it in quite that light before."

"Well, it just goes so show how tricky those commie bastards can be,"
said McCarthy, his tone softening.. "You have to keep an eye on them all
the time.  Anyway, I hope you're more alert now to the continual danger
the American people face."

"I am indeed, Senator.  Thank you once again for takin

,9 the trouble to speak to me personally.  Goodbye, Senator."

"Goodbye, Rosenovski."

Abel heard the phone click and realised it was the same sound as a
closing door.

William became aware of feeling older when Kate teased him about his
greying hair, hairs which he used to be able to count and now no longer
could, and Richard started to br'ti, girls home whom he found
attractive.  William almost always approved of Richard's choice of young
ladies, as he called them, perhaps because they were all rather like
Kate who, he considered, was more beautiful in middle-age than she had
ever been.  His daughters, Virginia and Lucy, now also becoming young
ladies, brought him great happiness is they grew in the image of their
mother.

Virginia was becoming quite an artist and the kitchen and children's
bed!-oonis were always covered in her latest works of genius, as Richard
described them mockingly.  Virginia's revenge came the day Richard
started cello lessons when even the servants were heard to munnur
unsavoury comments whenever the bow came in contact with the strings.

Lucy adored them both and considered Virginia with uncritical prejudice
the new Picasso and Richard the new Casals.

William began to wonder what the future would hold for all three of them
%when he was no longer around.  In Kate's eyes all three children
advanced satisfactorily.  Richard, now at St.  Paul's, had improved
enough at the cello to be chosen to play in a school concert, while
Virginia was painting well enough for one of her pictures to be hung in
the front room.  But it became obvious to all the family that Lucy was
going to be the beauty when, aged only eleven, she started receiving
little love notes from boys who until then had only shown an interest in
baseball.

In 1951, Richard, was accepted at Harvard and although he did not win
the top mathematics scholarship, Kate was quick to point out to William
that he had played baseball and the cello for St.  Paul's, two
accomplishments William had never so much as attempted to master.
William N,,ts secretly proud of Richard's achievements but mumbled to
Kate something about not knowing many bankers Alio played baseball or
the cello.

Banking was moving into an expansionist period as Am( t i cans began to
believe in a lasting peace.  William soon fol,ii (I himself overworked,
and for a short time, the threat of Abel Rosnovski and the problems
associated with him had to be pushed into the background.

The flow of quarterly reports from Thaddeus Cohen indicated that
Rosnovski had embarked on a course which He had no intention of
abandoning - through a third party He had let every stockholder other
than William know of his interest in Lester's shares.  William wondered
if that was heading towards a direct confrontation between himself and
the Pole.  He began to feel that the time was fast approaching when he
would have to inform the Lester's board of Rosnovski's actions and
perhaps even to offer his resignation if the bank looked to be under
siege, a move that would result in a complete victory for Abel
Rosnovski, which was the one reason William did not seriously
contemplate such a move.  He decided that if he had to fight for his
life, fight he would, and if one of the two had to go under, he would do
everything in his power to ensure that it wasn't Williaxn Kane.

The problem of what to do about Abel Rosnovski's investment programme
was finally taken out of Williaxn's hands.

Early in 1951, the bank had been invited to represent one of America's
new airline companies, Interstate Airways, when the Federal Aviation
Agency granted them a franchise for flights between the East and West
coasts.  The airline approached Lester's bank when they needed to raise
the thirty million dollars to provide them with the financial backing
required by governmental regulations.

William considered the airline and the whole project to be well worth
supporting, and he spent virtually his entire time setting up a public
offering to raise the necessary thirty million.  The bank, acting as the
sponsor for the project, put all their resources behind the new venture.
The project became William's biggest since he had returned to Lester's,
and he realised that his personal reputation was at stake when he went
to the market for the thirty million dollars.  In July, when the details
of the offering were announced the stock was snapped up in a matter of
days.  William received lavish praise from all quarters for the way he
had handled the project and carried it through to such a successful
conclusion.  He could not have been happier about the outcome himself,
until he read in Thaddeus Cohen's next report that ten percent of the
airline's stock had been obtained by one of Abel Rosnovski's dummy
corporations.

William knew then that the time had come to acquaint Ted Leach and Tony
Simmons with his worst fears.  He asked Tony to come to New York where
he called both of the vice-chairmen to his office and related to them
the saga of Abel Rosnovski and Henry Osborne.

"Why didn't you let us know about all this before?" was Tony Simmons'
first reaction.

"I dealt with a hundred companies like he Richmond (,roup when I was at
Kane and Cabot, Tony, and I couldn't lnow at the time that he was that
serious about revenge.  I was only finally convinced of his obsession
when Rosnovski purchased ten percent of Interstate Airways."

"I suppose it's possible you may be over-reacting," said Ted Leach.. "Of
one thing I am certain: it would be unwise to inform the rest of the
board of this information.  The last thing we want a few days after
launching a new company is a panic on our hands."

"That's for sure," said Tony Simmons.. "Why dot you h him?" see this
fellow Rosnovski and have it out wit

"I expect that's exactly what he'd like me to do," replied William.. "It
would leave him in no doubt that the bank feels it's under siege."

"DorVt you think his attitude might change if you told i I him how hard
you tried to talk the bank into backing the Richmond Group, but they
wouldn't support you and .... "I've no reason to believe he doesn't know
that already," said William.. "He seems to know everything else."

"Well what do you feel the bank should do about Rosnovski?" asked Ted
Leach.. "We certainly can't stop him from purchasing our stock if he can
find a willing seller.  If we went in for buying our own stock, far from
stopping him, we would play right into his hands by raising the value of
his holding and jeopardising our own financial position.

I think you can be certain he would enjoy watching us sweat that one
out.  We are about the perfect size to be taken on by Harry Truman, and
there's nothing the Democrats would enjoy more than a banking scandal
with an election in the offing."

"I realise there's little I can do about it," said William, "but I had
to let you know what Rosnovski was up to in case he springs another
surprise on us."

"I suppose there's still an outside chance," said Tony Simmons, "that
the whole thing is innocent, and he simply respects your talent as an
investor."

"How can you say that, Tony, when you know my stepfather is involved? Do
you think Rosnovski employed Henry Osborne to further my career in
banking?  You obviously don't understand Rosnovski as I do.  I've
watched Mm operating now for over twenty years.  He's not used to
losing; he simply goes on throwing the dice until he wins.

I couldn't know him much better if he was one of my own family.  He will
.  .

"Now don't become paranoid, William, I expect

"Doet become paranoid you say, Tony.  Remember the power our Articles of
Incorporation give to anyone who gets his hands on eight percent of the
bank's stock.  An article I had originally inserted to protect myself
from being removed.  The man already has six percent and if that's not a
bad enough prospect for the future, remember that Rosnovski could wipe
out Interstate Airways overnight just by placing his entire stock on the
market at once."

"But he would gain nothing from that; said Ted Leach.. "On the contrary,
he would stand to lose a great deal of money."

"Believe me, you don't understand how Abel Rosnovski's mind works," said
William.. "He has the courage of a lion, and the loss would mean nothing
to him.  I'm fast becoming convinced his only interest is in getting
even with me.  Yes, of course he'd lose money on those shares if he
dumped them, but he always has his hotels to fall back on.

There are twenty-one of them now, you know, and he must realise that if
Interstate stock collapses overnight, we will also be knocked backwards.
As bankers, our credibility depends on the fickle confidence of the
public, confidence Abel Rosnovski can now shatter as and when it suits
him."

"Calm down William," said Tony Simmons.. "It hasn't come to that yet.
Now we know what Rosnovski is up to, we can keep a closer watch on his
activities and counter them as and when we need to.  The first thing we
must be sure of is that no one else sells their shares in Lester's
before first offering them to you.  The bank is always going to support
any action you take.  My own feeling is still that you should speak to
Rosnovski personally and have it out in the open with him.  At least
that way we will know how serious his intentions are, and we can prepare
ourselves accordingly."

"Is that also your opinion, Ted?" asked William.

"Yes, it is.  I agree with Tony.  I think you should contact the man
directly.  It can only be in the bank's interests to discover how
innocent or otherwise his intentions really are."

William sat silently for a few moments.. "If you both feel that way,
I'll give it a try," he eventually said.. "I must add that I don't agree
with you, but I may be too personally involved to make a dispassionate
judgment.  Give me a few days to think about how I should best approach
him, and I'll let you know the outcome."

After the two vice-chairmen had left his office, William sat alone, ng
about the action he had agreed to take, certain there could be little
hope of success with Abel Rosnovski if Henry Osborne was involved.

Four days later, William sat alone in his office, having given
instructions that he was not to be interrupted under any circumstances.
He knew that Abel Rosnovski was also sitting in his office in the New
York Baron: he had had a man posted at the hotel all morning whose only
task had been to report the moment Rosnovski showed up.  The waiting man
had phoned; Abel Rosnovski had arrived that morning at eight
twenty-seven, had gone straight up to his office on the forty-second
floor and had not been seen since.  William picked up his telephone and
asked the operator to get Mm the Baron Hotel.

"New York Baron."

"Mr.  Rosnovski, please," said William nervously.  He was put through to
a secretary.

"Mr.  Rosnovski, please," he repeated.  This time his voice was a little
steadier.

"May I ask who is calling?" she said.

"My name is William Kane."

There was a long silence - or did it simply seem long to William?

"I'm not sure if he's in, Mr.  Kane.  I'll find out for you." Another
long silence.

"Mr.  Kane?"

"Mr.  Rosnovski?"

"What can I do for you, Mr.  Kane?" asked a very calm lightly accented
voice.

Although William had prepared his opening remarks carefully, he was
aware that he sounded anxious.

"I'm a little worried about your holdings in Lester's Bank, Mr.
Rosnovski," he said, "and indeed in the strong position you have built
up in one of the companies we represent.  I thought perhaps the time had
come for us to meet and discuss your full intentions.  There is also a
private matter I should like to make known to you." Another long
silence.  Had he been cut off ?

"There are no conditions which would ever make a meeting with you
possible, Kane.  I know enough about you already without wanting to hear
your excuses about the past.  You keep your eyes open all the time, and
you'll find out only too clearly what my intentions are, and they differ
greatly from those you will find in the Book of Genesis, Mr.  Kane.  One
day you're going to want to jump out of the twelfth floor window of one
of my hotels, because you'll be in deep trouble with Lestees Bank over
your own holdings.  I only need two more percent to invoke Article
Seven, and we both know what that means, don't we?  Then perhaps you'll
appreciate for the first time what it felt like for Davis Leroy,
wondering for months what the bank might do with his life.  Now you can
sit and wonder for years what I am going to do with yours once I obtain
that eight percent."

Abel Rosnovski's words chilled William, but somehow he forced himself to
carry on calmly, while at the same time banging his fist angrily on the
table.. "I can understand how you feel, Mr, Rosnovski, but I still think
it would be wise for us to get together and talk this whole thing out.
There are one or two aspects of the affair I know you caiyt be aware
of."

"Like the way you swindled Henry Osborne out of five hundred thousand
dollars, Mr.  Kane?"

William was momentarily speechless and wanted to explode, but once again
managed to control his temper.

"No, Mr.  Rosnovski, what I wanted to talk to you about has nothing to
do with Mr.  Osborne.  It's a personal matter and it involves only you.
However, I most emphatically assure you that I have never swindled Henry
Osborne out of one red cent."

"That's not Henry's version.  He says you were responsible for the death
of your own mother, to make sure that you didn't have to honour a debt
to him.  After your treatment of Davis Leroy, I find that only too easy
to believe."

William had never had to fight harder to control his emotions, and it
took him several seconds to muster a reply.

"May I suggest we clear this whole misunderstanding up once and for all
by meeting at a neutral place of your choice where no one would
recognise us?"

"There's only one place left where no one would recognise you, Mr.
Kane."

"Where's that?" asked William.

"Heaven," said Abel, and placed the phone back on the hook.

"Get me Henry Osborne at once,"he said to his secretary.

He drummed his fingers on the desk while the girl took nearly fifteen
minutes to find Congressman Osborne who, it turned out, had been showing
some of his constituents around the Capitol building.

"Abel, is that you?"

"Yes, Henry, I thought you'd want to be the first to hear that Kane
knows everything, so now the battle is out in the open."

"What do you mean, he knows everything?  Do you think he knows I'm
involved?" asked Henry anxiously.

"He sure does, and he also seems to be aware of the special company
accounts, my holdings in Lester's Bank and Interstate Airways.. "How
could he possibly know everything in such detail?

Only you and I know about the special accounts.. "And Curtis Fenton,"
said Abel, interrupting him.

"Right.  But he would never inform Kane.. "He must have.  There's no one
else.  Don't forget that Kane dealt directly with Curtis Fenton when I
brought the Richmond Group from his bank.  I suppose they must have
maintained some sort of contact all along.. "Jesus.. "You sound worried,
Henry.. "If William Kane knows everything, it's a different ball game.
I'm warning you, Abel, he's not in the habit of losing.. "Nor am I,"
replied Abel.. "And William Kane doesn't frighten me; not while I'm
holding all the aces in my hand.

What is our latest holding in Kane's stock?"

"Off the top of my head, you own six percent of Lester's Bank, and ten
percent of Interstate Airways, and odd bits of other companies they're
involved with.  You only need another two percent of Lestees to invoke
Article Seven and Peter Parfitt is still biting."

"Excellent," said Abel.. "I don't see how the situation could be better.
Continue talking to Parfitt, remembering that I'm in no hurry while Kane
can't even approach him.  For the time being we'll let Kane wonder what
we're up to.  And be sure you do nothing until I return from Europe.
After my phone conversation with Mr.  Kane this morning, I can assure
you that, to use a gentleman's expression, he's perspiring but I'll let
you into a secret, Henry.  I'm not sweating.  He can go on that way
because I have no intention of making a move until I'm good and ready' '

"Fine," said Henry.. "I'll keep you informed if anything comes up at
this end that we should worry about."

"You must get it through your head, Henry, there's nothing for us to
worry about.  We have your friend, Mr. Kane, by the balls, and I now
intend to squeeze them very slowly.. "I shall enjoy watching that," said
Henry, sounding a little happier. "Sometimes I tl-Ank you hate Kane more
than I do." Henry laughed nervously.. "Have a good trip to Europe." Abel
put the phone back on the hook and sat staring into space as he
considered his next move, his fingers still tapping noisily on the desk.
His secretary came in.

"Get Mr.  Curds Fenton at the Continental Trust Bank," he said, without
looking at her.  His fingers continued to tap.  His eyes continued to
stare.  A few moments later the phone rang.

"Fenton?"

"Good morning, Mr.  Rosnovski, how are you?"

"I want you to close all my accounts with your bank." There was no reply
from the other end.

"Did you hear me, Fenton?"

"Yes," said the stupefied banker.. "May I ask why, Mr. Rosnovski?"

"Because Judas never was my favourite apostle, Fenton, t's why.  As of
this moment, you are no longer on the board of the Baron Group.  You
will shortly receive written instructions confirming this conversation
and telling you to which bank the accounts should be transferred."

"But I don't under-stand why, Mr.  Rosnovski.  What have I done ...  ?"

Abel hung up as his daughter walked into the office.

"That didn't sound very pleasant, Daddy."

"It wasn't meant to be pleasant, but it's nothing to concern yourself
with, darling," said Abel, his tone changing immediately.. "Did you
manage to find all the clothes you need for Europe?"

"Yes, thank you, Daddy, but I'm not absolutely sure what they're wearing
in London and Paris.  I can only hope that I've got,it right.  I don't
want to stick out like a sore thumb.. "You'll stick out all right, my
darling, by being the most beautiful thing the British have seen in
years.  They'll know your clothes didn't come out of a ration book with
your natural flair and sense of colour.  Those young Europeans will be
falling all over themselves to get alongside you, but I'll be there to
stop them.  Now let's go and have some lunch and discuss what we are
going to do while we're in London."

Ten days later, after Florentyna had spent a long weekend with her
mother - Abel never enquired after her - the two of them flew from New
York's Idlewild Airport to London's Heathrow.  The flight in a Boeing
377 took- nearly fourteen hours, and although they had private berths,
when they arrived at Claridges in Brook Street, the only thing they both
wanted to do was have another long sleep.

Abel was making the trip to Europe for three reasons : first to confirm
building contracts for new Baron hotels in London, Paris and possibly
Rome; second, to give Flor-entyna her first view of Europe before she
went to Radcliffe to study modem languages; and third, and most
important to him, to revisit his castle in Poland to see if there was
even an outside chance of proving his ownership.

London turned out to be a success for both of them.

Abel's advisors had found a site on Hyde Park corner, and he instructed
solicitors to proceed immediately with all the negotiations for the land
and the permits that would be needed before England's capital could
boast a Baron.  Florentyna found the austerity of post-war London
forbidding after the excess of her own home, but the Londoners seemed to
be undaunted by their war-damaged city, still believing themselves to be
a world power.  She was invited to lunches, dinners and balls, and her
father was proved right about her taste in clothes and the reaction of
young European men.

She returned each night with sparkling eyes and stories of new conquests
made - and for-gotten by the following morning.  She couldn't make up
her mind whether she wanted to marry an Etonian from the Grenadier
Guards who saluted her all the time or a member of the House of Lords
who was in waiting to the King.  She wasn't quite sure what "in waiting"
meant, but he certainly knew exactly how to treat a lady.

In Paris, the pace never slackened and because they both spoke good
French, they both managed as well with the Parisians as they had with
the English.  Abel was normally bored by the end of the second week of
any holiday, and would start counting the days until he could return
home to work.  But not while he had Florentyna as his companion.

She had, since his separation from ZapMa, become the centre of his life
and the sole heir to his fortune.

When the time came for Abel to leave Paris, neither of them wanted to
go, so they stayed on a few more days claiming as an excuse that Abel
was still negotiating to buy a famous but now run-down hotel on the
Boulevard Raspail.  He did not inform the owner, a Monsieur Ncuffe, who
looked, if it were possible, even more run-down than the hotel, that he
planned to demolish the building and start again from scratch.  When
Monsieur Neuffe signed the papers a few days later, Abel ordered the
building razed to the ground while he and Florentyna, with no more
excuses left for remaining in Paris, departed reluctantly for Rome.

After the friendliness of  British and the gaiety of the French capital,
the sullen and dilapidated Eternal City iminediately dampened their
spirits, for the Romans felt they had nothing behind them.  In London,
they had strolled through the magnificent Royal parks together, admired
Mstoric buildings, and Florentyna had danced until the small hours.  In
Paris, they had been to the Opera, lunched on the banks of the Seine,
and taken a boat down the river past Notre Dame and on to supper in the
Latin Quarter.  In Rome, Abel found only an overpowering sense of
financial instability and decided that he would have to shelve his plans
to build a Baron in the Italian capital.  Florentyna sensed her father's
anxiety to once again see his castle in Poland, so she suggested they
leave Italy a day early.

Abel had found bureaucracy more reluctant to grant a visa for Florentyna
and himself to enter an Iron Curtain country than it had been to issue a
permit to build a new five-hundred-room hotel in London.  A less
persistent visitor would probably have given up, but with the
appropriate visas firmly stamped in their passports, Abel and Florentyna
set off in a hired car for Slonim.  The two travellers were kept waiting
for hours at the Polish border, helped along only by the fact that Abel
was fluent in the language.  Had the border guards known why his Polish
was so good, they would doubtless have taken an entirely different
attitude to allowing Mm to return.  Abel changed five hundred dollars
into zlotys - that at least seemed to please the Poles - and motored on.
The nearer they came to Slonim, the more Florentyna was aware of how
much the journey meant to her father.

"Daddy, I can never remember you being so excited about anything."

"This is where I was born," Abel explained.. "After such a long time in
America, where things change every day, it's almost unreal to be back
where it looks as if nothing has changed since I left."

They drove on towards Slonim, Abel's senses heightened in anticipation,
while horrified and angry at the devastation of the once trim
countryside and small, neat cottages.

Across a time span of nearly forty years he heard his childish voice ask
the Baron whether the hour of the submerged peoples of Europe had
arrived and would he be able to play his part, and tears came to his
eyes to think how short that hour had been, and what a little part he
had played.

When they rounded the final corner before approaching the Baron's estate
and saw the great iron gates that led to the castle, Abel laughed aloud
in excitement as he brought the car to a halt.

"It's all just as I remember it.  Nothing's changed.  Come on, let's
start by visiting the cottage where I spent the first five years of my
life - I don't expect anyone is living there now - and then we'll go and
see my castle."

Florentyna followed her father as he marched confidently down a small
track into the forest of moss-covered birches and oaks, which was not
going to change in a hundred years.  After they had walked for about
twenty minutes, the two of them came out into a small clearing, and
there in front of them was the trapper's cottage.  Abel stood and
stared.  He had forgotten how tiny his first home was: could nine people
really have lived there?  The thatched roof was now in disrepair, and
the building left the impression of being uninhabited with its eroded
stone and broken windows.  The once tidy vegetable garden was
indistinguishable in the matted undergrowth Had the cottage been
deserted?  Florentyna took her father by the arm and led him slowly to
the front door.  Abel stood there, motionless, so Florentyna knocked
gently.  They waited in silence.  Florentyna knocked again, this time a
little more loudly, and they heard someone moving within.

"All right, all right," said a querulous voice in Polish, and a few
moments later ' the door inched open.  They were being studied by an old
woman, bent and thin, dressed entirely in black.  Wisps of untidy
snow-white hair escaped from her handercliief and her grey eyes looked
vacantly at the visitors.

"It's not possible," said Abel softly in English.

"What do you want?" asked the old woman suspiciously.

She had no teeth and the line of her nose, mouth and chin formed a
perfect concave are.

Abel answered in Polish. "May we come in and talk t,) you? I Her eyes
looked from one to the other fearfully.. "Old Helena hasn't done
anything wrong," she said in a whine.

"I know," said Abel gently.. "I have brought good new. for you."

With some reluctance, she allowed them to enter the bare, cold room but
she didn't offer them a seat.  The room hadn't changed: two chairs, one
table and the memory that until he had left the cottage, he hadn't known
what a carpet was.  Florentyna shuddered.

"I can't get the fire going," wheezed the old woman, prodding the grate
with her stick.  The faintly glowing log refused to rekindle, and she
scrabbled ineffectually in her pocket.. "I need paper." She looked at
Abel, showing a spark of interest for the first time.. "Do you have any
paper?"

Abel looked at her steadily.. "Don't you remember me?" he said.

"No, I don't know you."

"You do, Helena.  My name is ...  Wladek."

"You knew my little Wladek?"

"I am Wladek."

"Oh, no," she said with sad and distant finality.. "He was too good for
me, the mark of God was upon him.  The Baron took him away to be an
angel, yes, he took away Matka's littlest one..."

Her old voice cracked and died away.  She sat down, but the ancient,
lined hands were busy in her lap.

"I have returned," said Abel, more insistently, but the old woman paid
him no attention, and her old voice quavered on as though she were quite
alone in the room.

"They killed my husband, my jasio, and all my lovely children were taken
to the camps, except little Sophia.  I hid her, and they went away." Her
voice was even and resigned.

"What happened to little Sophia?" asked Abel.

"The Russians took her away in the other war," she said dully.

Abel shuddered.    . "What The old woman roused herself from her
memories.

do you want?  Why are you asking me these questions?" she demanded.

"I wanted you to meet my daughter, Florentyna."

"I had a daughter called Florentyna once, but now there's only me."

"But I began Abel, starting to unbutton his shirt, Florentyna stopped
him. "We know," she said, smiling at the old lady.

"How can you possibly know?  It was all so long before you were even
born."

"They told us in the village," said Florentyna.

"Have you any paper with you?" the old lady asked. "I need paper for the
fire."

Abel looked at Florentyna helplessly.. "No." he replied. "I'm sorry, we
didn't bring any with us."

"What do you want?" reiterated the old woman, once again hostile!

"Nothing," said Abel, now resigned to the fact that she would not
remember him.. "We just wanted to say hello." He took out his wallet,
removed all the new zloty notes he had acquired at the border and handed
them over to her.

"Thank you, thank you," she said as she took each note, her old eyes
watering with pleasure.

Abel bent over to kiss his foster-mother, but she backed away,
Florentyna took her father's arm and led Abel out of the cottage and
back down the forest track in the direction of their car.

The old woman watched from her window until she was sure they were out
of sight.  Then she took the new bank notes, crumpled each one into a
little ball and placed them all carefully in the grate.  They kindled
immediately.  She placed gs and small logs on top of the blazing zlotys
and sat slowly down by her fire, the best in weeks, rubbing her hands
together at the comfort of the warmth.

Abel did not speak on the walk back to the car until the iron gates were
once again in sight.  Then he promised Florentyna, trying his best to
forget the little cottage. "You are about to see the most beautiful
castle in the world.. "You must stop exaggerating, Daddy."

"In the world," Abel repeated quietly.

Florcntyna laughed.. "I'll let you know how it compares with
Versailles."

They climbed back into the car and Abel drove through the gates,
remembering the vehicles he had been in when he last passed through
them, and up the mile-long drive to the castle.  Memories came flooding
back to Mm.  Happy days as a child with the Baron and Leon, unhappy days
of his life when he was taken away from his beloved castle by the
Russians, imagining he would never see the building again.  But now he,
Wladek Koskiewicz, was returning, returning in triumph to reclaim what
was his.

The car bumped up the winding road and both remained silent in
anticipation as they rounded the final bend to the first sight of
Baron'Rosnovski's home.  Abel brought the car to a halt and gazed at his
castle.  Neither of them spoke, but simply stared in disbelief at the
devastation of the bombedout remains of his dream.

He and Florentyna climbed slowly out of the car.  Still neither spoke.
Florentyna held her father's hand very, very tightly as the tears rolled
down his cheeks.  Only one wall remained precariously standing in a
semblance of its former glory; the rest was nothing more than a
neglected pile of rubble and red stone.  He could not bear to tell her
of the great halls, the wings, the kitchens, the bedrooms.  Abel walked
over to the three mounds, now smooth with thickgreen grass, that were
the graves of the Baron and his son Leon and the other of beloved
Florentyna.  He paused at each one and could not help but think that
Leon and Florentyna could still be alive today.  He knelt at their
heads, the dreadful visions of their final moments returning to him
vividly.  His daughter stood by his side, her hand resting on his
shoulder, saying nothing.  A long time passed before Abel rose slowly
and th6n they tramped over the ruins together.  Stone slabs marked the
places where once magnificent rooms had been filled with laughter.  Abel
still said nothing.  Holding hands, they reached the dungeons.

There Abel sat down on the floor of the damp little room near the
grille, or the half of the grille that was still left.

He twisted the silver band round and round. "This is where your father
spent four years of his life."

"It can't be possible," said Florentyna, who did not sit down.

"It's better now than it was then," said Abel.. "At least now there is
fresh air, birds, the sun and a feeling of freedom.  Then there was
nothing, only darkness, death, the stench of death, and worst of all,
the hope of death."

"Come on, Daddy, let's leave.  Staying here can only make you feel
worse."

Florentyna led her reluctant father to the car and drove Mm slowly down
the long avenue.  Abel didn't look back towards the ruined castle as
they passed for the last time through its iron gates, On the journey
back to Warsaw he hardly spoke and Florentyna abandoned her attempts at
vivacity.  When her father said. "There is now only one thing left that
I must achieve in this life," Florentyna wondered what he could mean but
did not press him to explain.  She did, however, manage to coax him into
spending another weekend in London on the return journey, which she
convinced herself would cheer her father up a little and perhaps even
help him to forget the memory of his demented old foster-mother and the
remains of his castle in Poland.

They flew to London the next day.  Abel was glad to be back in a country
where he could communicate quickly with America, Once they had booked
into Claridges, Florentyna went off to reunite with old friends and make
new ones.  Abel spent his time reading all the papers he could lay big
hands on, in the hope of bringing Mmself up to date with l what had
happened in America while he had been abroad.  He didn't like to feel
things could happen while he was away; it reminded him only too clearly
that the world could get along very well without him.

A little item on an inside page of Saturday's Times caught his eye.
Things had happened while he was away.

A Vickers Viscount of Interstate Airways had crashed immediately after
take-off at the Mexico City airport the previous morning.  The seventeen
passengers and crew had all been killed.  The Mexican authorities had
been quick to place the blame on Interstate's bad servicing of their
aircraft.  Abel picked up the phone and asked the girl for the overseas
operator.

Saturday, he's probably back in Chicago, thought Abel.  He thumbed
through his little phone book to find the home number.

"There'll be a delay of about thirty minutes," said a precise, not
unattractive, English voice.

"Thank you," said Abel, and he Jay down on the bed with the phone by his
side, thinking.  It rang twenty minutes later.

"Your overseas call is on the line, sir," said the same precise voice.

"Abel, is that you?  Where are you?"

"Sure is, Henry.  I'm in London."

"Are you through?" said the girl, who was back on the line.

"I haven't even started," said Abel.

"I'm sorry, sir.  I mean are you speaking to America?"

"Oh yes, sure. Thank you.  Jesus, Henry, they speak a different language
over here." Henry Osborne laughed.

"Now listen.  Did you read that item in the press about an Interstate
Airways' Vickers Viscount crashing at the Mexico City airport?"

"Yes, I did," said Henry, "but there's nothing for you to worry about.
The plane was properly insured and the company is completely covered, so
they incurred no loss and the stock has remained steady."

"The insurance is the last thing I'm interested in," said Abel.. "This
could be our best chance yet for a little trial run to discover just how
strong Mr.  Kane's constitution is.. "I don't think I understand, Abel.
What do you mean?"

"Listen carefully, and I'll explain exactly what I want you to do when
the Stock Exchange opens on Monday morning.  I'll be back in New York by
Tuesday to orchestrate the final crescendo myself."

Henry Osborne listened attentively to Abel Rosnovski's instructions.
Twenty minutes later, Abel replaced the phone on the hook.

He was through.

William realised he could expect more trouble from Abel Rosnovski the
morning that Curtis Fenton phoned to let him know that the Chicago Baron
was closing all the group's bank accounts with Continental Trust and was
accusing Fenton himself of disloyalty and unethical conduct.

"I thought I did the correct thing in writing to you about Mr.
Rosnovski's acquisitions in Lester's' said the banker unhappily, "and it
has ended with me losing one of my biggest customers.  I don't know what
my board of directors will say."

William fon-nulated an inadequate apology, and calmed Fenton down a
little by promising him he would speak to his superiors.  He was,
however, more preoccupied with wondering what Abel Rosnovski's next move
would be.

Nearly a month later, he found out.  He was going through the bank's
Monday morning mail when a call came through from his broker, telling
him that someone had placed a million dollars worth of Interstate
Airways' stock on the market.  William had to make the instant decision
that his personal trust should pick -up the shares, and he issued an
immediate buy order for them.  At two o'clock that afternoon, another
million dollars' worth was put on the market. Before William had a
chance, to pick them up, the price had started falling.  By the time the
New York Stock Exchange closed at three o'clock, the price of Interstate
Airways had fallen by a third.

At ten minutes past ten the next morning, William received a call from
his now agitated broker.  Another million dollars worth of shares had
been placed on the market at the opening bell.  The broker reported that
the latest dumping had had an avalanche effect: Interstate sell orders
were coming on to the floor from every quarter, the bottom had fallen
out, and the stock was now trading at only a few cents a share.  Only
twenty-four hours previously, Interstate had been quoted at four and a
half.

William instructed Alfred Rodgers, the company secretary, to call a
board meeting for the following Monday.

He needed the time to confirm who was responsible for the dumping.  By
Wednesday, he had abandoned any attempt at shoring up Interstate by
buying all the shares that came on the market himself.  At the close of
business that day, the Securities and Exchange Commission announced that
they would be conducting an enquiry into all Interstate transactions.
William knew that Lester's board would now have to decide whether to
support the airline for the three to six months it would take the S.E.C
' to complete their investigation or whether to let the company go
under.  The altema.  tives looked extremely damaging, both to William's
pocket and to the bank's reputation.

It came as no surprise to William to discover from Thad.  dens Cohen the
next day that the company that had dumped the original three, million
dollars worth of Interstate shares was one of those fronting for Abel
Rosnovski, Guaranty Investment Corporation by name.  A corporation
sl>okesman had issued a plausible little press release explaining their
reasons for selling, they had been concerned for the future of the
Company after the Mexican government's responsible statement about
Interstate Airways' inadequate servicing facilities.

"Responsible statement," said William, outraged.. "T Mexican government
hasn't made a responsible statement since they claimed Speedy Gonzales
would win the one hundred metres at the Helsinki Olympics."

The media made the most of Guaranty Investment's press release, and on
Friday, the Federal Aviation Agency grounded the airline until it could
conduct an in-depth investigation of its servicing facilities.

William was confident Interstate had nothing to fear fronl such an
inspection, but the action proved disastrous for the short-term
passenger bookings.  No aviation company can afford to leave aircraft on
the ground; they can only make money when they are in the air.

To compound William's problems, other major companies represented by
Lester's were reconsidering future commitments.  The press had been
quick to point out that Lester's was Interstate Airways' underwriters.
Surprisingly, Interstate's shares began to pick up again late Friday
afternoon, and it did not take William long to guess why, a guess that
was later confirmed by Thaddeus Cohen: the buyer was Abel Rosnovski.  He
had sold his Interstate shares at the top and was now buying them back
in small amounts while they were at the bottom.  William shook his head
in begrudging admiration.  Rosnovski was making a small fortune for
himself while bankrupting William both in reputation and financial
terms.

William worked out that although the Baron Group must have risked over
three million dollars, they might well end up making a huge profit.
Moreover, it was evident that Rosnovski was unconcerned about a
temporary loss, which he could in any case use as a tax write-off; his
only interest was in the total destruction of Lester's reputation.

When the board met on Monday, William explained the entire history of
his clash with Rosnovski and offered his resignation.  It was not
accepted, nor was a vote taken, but there were mun-nurings, and William
knew that if Rosnovski attacked again, his colleagues might not take the
same tolerant attitude a second time.

The board went on to consider whether they should continue the support
for Interstate Airways.  Tony Simmons convmced them that the F.A.A."s
enquiry would come out in the bank's favour, and that Interstate would
in time recover all their money.  Tony had to admit to William after the
meeting that their decision could only help Rosnovski in the long run,
but the bank had no choice if it wished to protect its reputation.

He proved right on both counts.  When the S.E.C.  finally published its
findings, they declared Leste?s "reproachproof' although they had some
stern words for Guaranty Investment Corporation.  When the market
started trading in Interstate shares that morning, William was surprised
to find the stock rising steadily.  It was soon back up to its original
four and a half.

Thaddeus Cohen informed William that the principal purchaser was once
again Abel Rosnovski.

"That's all I need at the moment." said William.. "Not only does he make
a large profit on the whole transaction, but now he can repeat the same
exercise again whenever the time suits him."

"In fact," said Thaddeus Cohen, "that is exactly what you do need."

"Whatever do you mean, Thaddeus?" said William.. "I've never known you
speak in riddles."

"Mr.  Abel Rosnovski has made his first error in judgment, because he's
breaking the law and now it's your turn to go after him.  He probably
doesn't even realise that what he was involved in was illegal, becaues
he was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

"What are you talking about?" asked William.

"Simple," said Thaddeus Cohen.. "Because of your obsession with
Rosnovski - and his with you - it seems that both of you have overlooked
the obvious: if you sell shares with the sole intention of causing the
maxket to drop in order to pick up those same shares at the bottom and
therefore be certain of a Profit, You're breaking Rule lOb-5 of the
Securities and Fxchange Commission and you are comniitting the crime of
fraud.  There's no doubt in my mind that making a quick profit was not
Mr.  Rosnovski's original intention; in fact, we know very well he only
wanted to embarrass you personally.  But who is going to believe
Posnovski if he gives as an explanation that he dumped the stock because
he thought the company was unreliable, when he has bought all the same
shares back when they reached rock bottom?  Answer, nobody - and
certainly not the S.E.C.  I'll have a full written report sent around to
you by tomorrow, William, explaining the legal implications."

"Thank you," said William, jubilant over the news.

Thaddeus Cohen's report was on William's desk at nine the next morning
and after William had read over the contents very carefully, he called
another board meeting.  The directors agreed with the course of action
William wanted to take.  Thaddeus Cohen was instructed to draft a
carefully written press release to be issued that evening.  The Wall
Street journal ran a piece on their front page the following morning.

Mr.  William Kane, the chair-man of Lester's Bank has reason to believe
that the sell orders placed by Guaranty Investment Corporation in
November 1952 on Interstate Airways shares, a company underwritten by
Lester's Bank, were issued for the sole purpose of making an illegal
profit.

I It has been established that Guaranty Investment Corporation was
responsible for placing a million dollars worth of Interstate stock on
the market when the exchange opened on Monday, 12 May 1952.  A further
million dollars worth was on the market six hours later.  A third
million dollars worth was placed on a sell order by Guaranty Investment
Corporation when the exchange reopened on Tuesday, 13 May 1952.  This
caused the stock to fall to a record low.  After an S.E.C.  enoiry
showed there had been no illegal dealing within either Lester's Bank or
Interstate Airways, the market picked up again with the stock trading at
the depressed price.  Guaranty Investment was quickly back in the market
to purchase the shares at as low a price as possible.  They continued to
buy until they had replaced the three million dollars worth of stock
they had originally released on to the market.

The chairman and directors of Lester's Bank have sent a copy of all the
relevant documents to the Fraud Division of the Securities and Exchange
Conunission, and have asked them to proceed with a'full enquiry! The
story below the statement gave S.E.C.  Rule lOb-5 in full and commented
that this was exactly the sort of test case that President Truman had
been looking for; a cartoon below the article showed Harry S. Truman
catching a businessman with his hands in the cookie jar.

William smiled as he read through the item, confident that that would be
the last he would hear of Abel Rosnovski.

Abel Rosnovski frowned and said nothing as Henry Osborne read the
statement over to him.  Abel looked up, his'fingers tapping in
irritation on the desk!

"The boys in Washington," said Osborne,,are determined to get to the
bottom of this one."

"But Henry, you know very well I didn't sell Interstate shares to make a
quick killing on the stock market," said Abel.. "The profit I made was
of no interest to me at all."

"I know that," said Henry, "but you try and convince the Senate Finance
Committee that the Chicago Baron had no interest in financial gain, that
all he really wanted to do was settle a personal grudge against one
William Kane, and they'll laugh you right out of court - or out of the
Senate, to be more exact."

"Damn," said Abel.. "Now what the hell do I do?"

"Well, first you'll have to lie very low until this has had time to blow
over.  Start paying that some bigger scandal comes along for Truman to
get himself worked up about, or that the politicians become so involved
in the election that they haven't time to press for an enquiry.  With
luck, a new administration may even drop the whole thing.  What-,&r,a -e
con-ever you do, Abel, don't buy any more shares that ar you're going to
end up iiected with Lester's Bank, or the least with is a very large
fine.  Leave me to swing what I can with the Democrats in Washington."
housand

"Remind Harry Truman's office that I gave fifty t dollars to his
campaign fund during the last election and I intend to do the same for
Adlai.. "In fact I would ad-'I've already done that,"

said Henry.

vise you to give fifty thousand to the Republicans as well.. "They're
making a mountain out of a molehill," said Abel.. "A molehill that Kane
will turn into a mountain if we give him the chance." His fingers
continued to tap on the table.

Thaddeus Cohen's next quarterly re port revealed that Abel Rosnovski had
stopped buying or selling stock in any of Lester's companies.  It seemed
he was now concentrating all his energy on building more hotels in
Europe.  Cohen's opinion was that Rosnovski was lying low, until a
decision had been made by the S.E.C.  on the Interstate affair.

Representatives of the S.E.C.  had visited William at the bank on
several occasions.  He had spoken to them with complete frankness, but
they never revealed how their enquiries were progressing.  The S.E.C.
finally finished their investigation and thanked William for his
cooperation.  He heard nothing more from them.

As the Presidential election grew nearer and Truman seemed to be
concentrating his own efforts on the dissolution on the DuPont
industrial combine, William began to fear that Abel Rosnovski might have
been let off the book.  He couldn't help feeling that Henry Osborne must
have been able to pull a few strings in Congress.  He remembered that
Cohen had once underlined a note about a fifty thousand dollar donation
from the Baron Group to Harry Truman's campaign fund and was surprised
to read in Cohen's latest report that Rosnovski had repeated the
donation for Adlai Stevenson, the Democrats' choice for President, along
with another fifty thousand for the Eisenhower campaign fund.  Cohen had
underlined the item again.

William, who had never considered supporting anyone for public office
who was not a Republican, wanted General Eisenhower, the candidate who
had emerged on the first ballot at the convention in Chicago, to defeat
Adlai Stevenson, although he was aware that a Republican administration
was less likely to press for a share manipulation enquiry than the
Democrats.

When General Dwight D.  Eisenhower - it appeared that the nation did
like Ike - was elected as the thirty-fourth President of the United
States on 4 November 1952, William assumed that Abel Rosnovski had
escaped any charge and could only hope that the experience would
persuade him to leave Lester's affairs well enough alone in the future.

The one small compensation to come out of the election for William was
that Congressman Henry Osborne lost his Congressional seat to a
Republican candidate.  The Eisenhower jacket had turned out to have
coat-tails, and Osborne's rival had clung to them.  Thaddeus Cohen was
inclined to think that Henry Osborne no longer exerted quite the same
influence over Abel Rosnovski that he had in the past.  The rumour in
Chicago was that, since divorcing his rich wife, Osborne owed large sums
of money to Rosnovski and was gambling heavily again.

William was happier and more relaxed than he had been for some time and
looked forward to joining the prosperous and peaceful era that
Eisenhower had promised in his Inauguration speech.

As the first years of the new President's administration went by,
William began to put Rosnovski's threats at the back of his mind and to
think of them as a thing of the past.  He informed Thaddeus Cohen that
he believed they had heard the last of Abel Rosnovski.  The lawyer made
no comment.  He wasn't asked to.

46o William put all his efforts into building Lester's, both in size and
reputation, increasingly aware that he was now doing it as much for his
son as for himself.  Some of his staff at the bank had already started
referring to him as the "old man'.

"It had to happen," said Kate.

"Then why hasn't it happened to you?" replied William.

Kate looked up at William and smiled.. "Now I know the secret of how you
have closed so many deals with vain men." William laughed.. "And one
beautiful woman," he added.

With Richard's twenty-first birthday only a year away, William revised
the provisions of his will.  He set aside five million dollars for Kate
and two million for each of the girls, and left the rest of the family
fortune to Richard, noting ruefully the bite that would go in estate
tax.  He also left one million dollars to Harvard.

Richard had been making good use of his four years at Harvard.  At the
start of his senior year, not only did he look set for a Summa Cum
Laude, but he was also playing the cello in the university orchestra,
and was a pitcher with the varsity baseball team, which even William had
to admire.  As Kate liked rhetorically to ask, how many students spent
Saturday afternoon playing baseball for Harvard against Yale and Sunday
evening playing the cello in the Lowell concert hall for the university
string quartet?

The final year passed quickly and when Richard left Harvard, armed with
a Bachelor of Arts degree in matheniatics, a cello and a baseball bat,
all he required before reporting to the business school on the other
side of the Charles River was a good holiday.  He flew to Barbados with
a girl called Mary Bigelow of whose existence Richard's parents were
blissfully unaware.  Miss Bigelow had studied music, among other things,
at Vasser, and when they returned two months later almost the same
colour as the natives, Richard took her home to meet his parents.
William approved of Miss Bigelow; after all, she was Alan Lloyd's great
niece.

Richard returned to the Harvard Business School on I

46i October 1955 to start his graduate work.  He took up residence in
the Red House, threw out all William's cane fumiture and removed the
paisley wallpaper that Matthew Lester had once found so modem, and
installed a wall-towall carpet in the living room, an oak table in the
dining room, a dishwasher in the kitchen and, more than occasionally,
Miss Bigelow in the bedroom.

Abel returned from a trip to Istanbul in October 1952, immediately upon
hearing the news of David Maxton's fatal heart attack.  He attended the
funeral in Chicago with George and Florentyna and later told Mrs. Maxton
that she could be a guest at any Baron in the world whenever she so
pleased for the rest of her life.  She could not understand why Abel had
made such a generous gesture.

When Abel returned to New York the next day, he was delighted to find on
the desk of his forty-second floor office a report from Henry Osborne
indicating that the heat was now off.  In Henry's opinion, the new
Eisenhower administration was unlikely to pursue an enquiry into the
Interstate Airways fiasco, especially as the stock had now held steady
for nearly a year.  There had, therefore, been no further incidents to
renew any interest in the scandal.

Eisenhower's Vice-President, Richard M, Nixon, seemed more involved in
chasing the spectral communists whom Joe McCarthy missed.

Abel spent the next two years concentrating on building his hotels in
Europe.  He opened the Paris Baron in 1953 and the London Baron at the
end of 1954.  Barons were also in various stages of development for
Brussels, Rome, Amsterdam, Geneva, Bonn, Edinburgh, Cannes and Stockholm
in a ten-year expansion programme.

Abel became so overworked that he had little time to consider William
Kane's continued prosperity.  He had not made any attempt to buy shares
in Lester's Bank or its subsidiary companies, although he held on to
those he already possessed in the hope that.another opportunity might be
forthcoming to deal a blow against William Kane from wl-iich he would
not recover so easily.  The next time, Abel promised himself, he'd make
sure he didn't unwittingly break the law.

During Abel's increasingly frequent absences abroad George ran the Baron
Group and Abel was hoping that Florentyna would join the board as soon
as she left Radcliffe in June of 1955.  He had already decided that she
should take over responsibility for all the shops in the hotels and
consolidate their buying, as they were fast becoming an empire in
themselves.

Florentyna was very excited by the prospect but was insistent that she
wanted some outside experience before joining her father's group.  She
did not consider her natural gifts for design, colour, and Organisation
were any substitute for experience.  Abel suggested that she train in
Switzerland under Monsieur Maurice at the famed tcole H6telire in
Lausanne.  Florentyna baulked at the idea, explaining that she wanted to
work for two years in a New York store before she would consider taking
over the shops.  She was determined to be worth employing, '...  and not
just as my father's daughter," she informed him.  Abel thoroughly
approved.

"A New York store, that's done easily enough," he said.. "I'll ring up
Walter Hoving at Tiffany's and you can start at the top."

"No," said Florentyna, revealing that she'd inherited her father's
streak of stubbornness.. "What's the equivalent of a junior waiter at
the Plaza Hotel?"

"A sales girl at a department store," said Abel, laughing.

"Then that's exactly what I'm going to be," she said.

Abel stopped laughing.. "Are you serious?  With a degree from Radcliffe
and all the experience and knowledge you've gained from your European
trips, you want to be an anonymous sales girl?"

"Being an anonymous waiter at the Plaza didn't do you any harm when the
time came to set up one of the most successful hotel groups in the
world" replied Florentyna.

Abel knew when he was beaten.  He had only to look into the steel grey
eyes of his beautiful daughter to reahse she had made up her mind, and
that no amount of persuasion, gentle or otherwise, was going to change
herviews.

After Florentyna had graduated from Radchffe, she spent a month in
Europe with her father, watching the progress of the latest Baron
hotels.  She officially opened the Brussels Baron where she made a
conquest of the handsoxne young French-speaking managing director, whom
Abel accused of smelling.  of garlic.  She had to give him up three days
later when it reached the kissing stage, but she never admitted to her
father that garlic had been the reason, Florentyna returned to New York
with her father and immediately applied for the vacant position (the
words used in the classified advertisement) of "junior sales ass'l tant'
at Bloomingdale's.  When she filled in the application fonn, she gave
her name as Jessie Kovats, well aware that no one would leave her in
peace if they ever thought she was the daughter of the Chicago Baron,
Despite protests from her father, she also left her suite in the Baron
Hotel and started looking for her own place tci live.  Once again Abel
gave in and presented Florentyna with a small but elegant cooperative
flat on Fifty-seventh Street near the East River as a twenty-second
birthday present, Florentyna already knew her way around New York and
enjoyed a full social life, but she had long ago resolved not to let her
friends know that she was going to work at Bloomingdale's.  She feared
that they would want to come and visit her and, in days, her cleverly
constructed cover would be blown, making it impossible to be treated as
a normal trainee.

When her friends did inquire, she merely told them that she was helping
to run the shops in her father's hotels.

None of them gave her reply a second thought, Jessie Kovats - it took
her some time to get used to the name - started in cosmetics, After six
months, she was ready to run her own beauty shop.  The girls in
Bloomingdale's worked in pairs, which Flor-entyna immediately turned to
her advantage by choosing to work with the laziest girl in the
department.  This arrangement suited both girls as Florentyna's choice
was a gorgeous, unenlightened blonde called Maisie who had only two
interests in life: the clock pointing to the hour of six p.m.  and men.
The former happened once a day, the latter all the time.

The two girls soon became comrades without exactly being friends,
Florentyna learned a lot from her partner about how to avoid work
without being spotted by the floor manager, and also how to get picked
up by a man.

The cosmetic countex's profits were well up after their first six months
together, despite the fact that Maisie spent most of her time trying out
the products rather than selling them.  She could take two hours
repainting her finger nails alone, Florentyna, in contrast, had a
natural gift for selling that could not have been picked up at night
school.  That combined with an ability to learn quickly made it seem to
her employers, after only a few weeks, as if she had been around for
years.

The partnership with Maisie suited Florentyna ideally, and when they
moved her to Better Dresses, by mutual agreement Maisie went along and
passed her time by trying on new dresses all day while Florentyna sold
them.  Maisie could attract men - in tow with their wives or sweethearts
- irrespective of the merchandise, simply by looking at them.

Once they were ensnared, Florentyna could move in and sell something to
them.  It seemed hardly possible that the combination could work in
Better Dresses, but Florentyna made Maisie's victims buy something, few
escaping with untouched wallets.

The profits for that six months were up again, and the floor supervisor
decided that the two girls obviously worked well together.  Florentyna
said nothing to contradict that impression.  While other assistants in
the shop were always complaining about how little work their partners
did, Florentyna continually praised Maisie as the ideal workmate, who
had taught her so much about how a big store operated.  She didn't
mention the useful advice that Maisie also imparted on how to deal with
over-amorous men.

The greatest compliment an assistant can receive at Bloomingdale's is to
be put on one of the counters facing the Lexington Avenue entrance, the
first person to be seen by customers coming in through the main doors.
To work on that counter was considered as a small promotion and it was
rare for a girl to be invited to sell there until she had been with the
store at least five years.  Maisie had been with Bloomingdale's since
she was seventeen, a full five years, while Florentyna had only just
completed her first twelve months.  But as their results had been so
impressive, the manager decided to try the two girls out on the ground
floor in the stationery department.  Maisie was unable to derive any
personal advantage from the stationery department, as she didn't care
too much for reading and even less for writing.  Florentyna wasn't sure
after a year with her that she could read or write.  Nevertheless, her
new position pleased Maisie greatly because she adored being the centre
of attention.  So the girls continued their perfect partnership.

Abel admitted to George that he had once sneaked into Bloomingdale's to
watch Flbrentyna at work, and he had to confess that she was damned
good.  He assured his vice-president that he was looking forward to her
finishing the twoyears training, so that he could employ the girl
himself.  They had both agreed that when Florentyna left Bloomingdale's,
she would be made a vice-president of the group, with special
responsibility for the hotel stores.  As Bloomingdale's was finding out,
she was a chip off a formidable old block, and Abel had no doubt that
Florentyna would have few problems taking on the responsibilities he was
planning for her.

Florentyna spent her last six months at Bloomingdale's on the ground
floor in charge of six counters with the new title of junior supervisor.
Her duties now included stock checking, the cash desks and overall
supervision of eighteen sales clerks.  Bloomingdale's had already
decided that Jessie Kovats was the ideal candidate to be a future buyer.

Florentyna had not yet informed her employers that she would be leaving
shortly to join her father as a vice-president of the Baron Group.  As
the six months was drawing to its conclusion, she began to wonder what
would happen to poor Maisie after she had left, Maisie assumed Jessie
was at Bloomingdale's for life - wasn't everybody?  - and never gave the
question a second thought.  Florcntyna thought she might even offer her
a job in one of the shops in the New York Baron.  As long as it was
behind a counter at which men spent money, Maisie was a valuable asset.

One afternoon when Maisie was waiting on a customer she was now in
gloves, scarves and woolly hats - she pulled Florentyna aside and
pointed to a young man who was loitering over the mittens.

"What do you think of him?" she asked, giggling.

Florentyna glanced up at Maisie's latest desire with her customary
disinterest, but on this occasion she had to admit to herself that he
was rather attractive, and for once she was almost envious of Maisie.

"They only want one thing, Maisie."

"I know," said Maisie, "and he can have it."

"I'm sure he'll be pleased to hear that," said Florentyna, laughing as
she turned to wait on a customer who was becoming impatient at Maisie's
indifference to her presence.  Maisie took advantage of Florentyna!s
move and rushed off to serve the gloveless young man.  Florentyna
watched them both out of the corner of her eye.  She was amused that he
kept glancing nervously towards her, checking that Maisie wasn't being
spied on by her supervisor.  Maisie giggled away and the young man
departed with a pair of dark blue, leather gloves.

"Well, how did he measure up to your hopes?" asked Florentyna, conscious
she felt a little jealous of Maisie's new conquest.

"He didn't," replied Maisie.. "But I'm sure he'll be back again," she
added, grinning.

Maisies prediction turned out to be correct, for the next day there he
was, thumbing among the gloves and looking even more embarrassed.

"I suppose you had better go and wait on him," said Florentyna.

Maisie hurried obediently away.  Florentyna nearly laughed out loud
when, a few minutes later, the young man departed with another pair of
dark blue gloves.

"Two pairs," declared Florentyna.. "I think I can say on behalf of
Bloomingdale's, he deserves you."

"But he still didn't ask me out," said Maisie.

"What?" said Florentyna in mcck disbelief.. "He must have a glove
fetish."

"It's very disappointing," said Maisie, "because I think he's neat."

"Yes, he's not bad," said Florentyna.

The next day when the young man arrived in the shop Maisie leapt
forward, leaving an old lady in mid-sentence.

Florentyna quickly took her place, once again watching Maisie out of the
corner of her eye.  This time the two of them appeared to be in deep
conversation and the young man finally departed with yet another pair of
dark blue leather gloves.

"It must be the real thing," ventured Florentyna.

"Yes, I think it is," replied Maisie, "but he still hasn't suggested a
date."

Florentyna was flabbergasted.

"Listen," said Maisie desperately, "if he comes in tomorrow could you
serve him?  I think he is scared to ask me directly.  He might find it
easier to make a date through you." Florentyna laughed.. "A Viola
to-your Orsino.. "What?" said Maisie.

"It doesn't matter," said Florentyna.. "I wonder if I will be able to
sell him a pair of gloves?"

If the man was anything he was consistent, thought Florentyna, as he
pushed his way through the doors at exactly the same time the next day
and immediately headed towards the glo I've counter.  Maisie dug
Florentyna in the ribs, and Florentyna decided the time had come to
enjoy herself.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Oh, good afternoon," said the young man looking surprised - or was it
disappointment ?

"Can I help you?" offered Florentyna.

"No - I mean, yes, I would like a pair of gloves," he added
unconvincingly.

"Yes, sir.  Have you considered t, dark blue pair?  In leather?  I'm
sure we have your size - unless we're all sold out." The young man
looked at her suspiciously as she handed him the gloves.  He tried them
on.  They were a little too big.  Florentyna offered him another pair
but they were slightly too tight.  He looked towards Maisie for
inspiration but she was surrounded by a sea of male customers but she
wasn't sinking because she even found the time to glance towards the
young man and grin.  He grinned back nervously.  Florentyna handed him
another pair of gloves They fitted perfectly. "I think that's what
you're looking for," said Florentyna. "No, it's not really," replied the
embarrassed customer.

Florentyna decided the time had come to let the poor man off the hook
and lowering her voice, she said. "I'll go and rescue Maisie.  Why don't
you ask her out?  I'm sure she will say yes."

"Oh no," said the young man.. "You don't understand.  It's not her I
want to take out - it's you."

Florentyna was speechless.  The young man seemed to muster courage.

"Win you have dinner with me tonight?"

She heard herself saying. "Yes."

"Shall I pick you up at your home?"

"No," said Florentyna a little too firmly.  The last thing she wanted
was to be met at her apartment where it would be obvious to anyone that
she was not a salesgirl.. "Let's meet at a restaurant," she added
quickly!

"Where would you like to go?  - - :

Florentyna tried to think quickly of a place that would not be too
ostentatious.

"Allen's at Seventy-third and Third?" he ventured.

"Yes, fine," said Florentyna, thinking how much better Maisie would have
been at handling the whole situation.

"Around eight o'clock suit you?"

"Around eight," replied Florentyna.

The young man left with a smile on his face.  Florentyna watched him
disappear on to the street, and suddenly realised that he had left
without buying a pair of gloves.

Flor-entyna took a long time choosing which dress she should wear for
her evening out.  She wanted to be certain that the outfit didn't scream
of Bergdorf Goodman.  She had acquired a small wardrobe especially for
Bloomingdale's, but the clothes were strictly for daytime use, and she
had never worn anything from that selection in the evening.  If her date
- heavens, she didn't even know his name - thought she was a salesgirl
she mustn't disillusion him.  She couldn't help feeling that she was
actually looking forward to the evening more than she ought to be.

She left her flat on East Fifty-seventh Street a little before eight and
had to wait for several minutes before she managed to hail an empty
taxi.

"Allen's, please," she said to the taxi driver.

"On Third Avenue."

"Yes."

"Sure thing, miss," he replied.

When Florentyna arrived at the restaurant, she was a few minutes late.
Her eyes began to search for the young man.  He was standing at the bar,
waving.  He had changed into a pair of grey flannel slacks and a blue
blazer.  Very Ivy League, thought Florentyna, but very good looking.

"I'm sorry to be late," she began.

"It's not important.  What's important is that you came."

"You thought I wouldn't?" said Florentyna.

"I wasn't sure." He smiled.. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Jessie Kovats," said Florentyna, determined not to give away her alias.
"And yours?"

"Richard Kane," said the young man, thrusting out his hand.

She took it and he held on to her a little longer-than she had expected.

"And what do you do when you're not buying gloves at Bloomingdale's ?"
she teased.

"I'm at Harvard Business School."

"I'm surprised they didn't teach you that most people only have two
hands."

He laughed and smiled in such a relaxed and friendly way that she wished
she could start again and tell him they might have met in Cambridge when
she was at Radcliffe.

"Shall we order?" he said, taking her arm and leading her to a table.

Florentyna looked up at the menu on the blackboard.

"Salisbury steak?" she queried.

"A hamburger by any other name," said Richard.

They both laughed, in the way two people do when they don't know each
other, but want to.  She could see he was surprised that she might have
known his out-of-context quotation.

Florentyna had rarely enjoyed anyone's company more.  Richard chatted
about New York, the theatre and music so obviously his first love - with
such grace and charm that she was fully at ease.  He may have thought
she was a salesgirl but he was treating her as if she'd come from one of
the oldest Brahmin families.  He hoped he wasn't too surprised by her
passion for the same things bemuse, when he inquired, she told him
nothing more than that she was Polish and lived in New York with her
parents.  As the evening progressed the deception became increasingly
intolerable.  Still, she thought, we may never see each other again
after tonight, and then it will all be irrelevant.

When the evening did come to an end and neither of them could drink any
more coffee, they left Allen's and I Richard looked for a , the only
ones they saw were all full.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Fifty-seventh Street," she said, not thinking about her reply.

"Then's let's walk," said Richard, taking Florentyna's hand.

She smiled her agreement.  They started walking, stopping and looking at
shop windows, laughing and smiling.

Neither of them noticed the empty taxis that now rushed past them.  It
took them almost an hour to cover the sixteen blocks and Florentyna
nearly told him the truth.  When they reached Fifty-seventh Street she
stopped outside a small old apartment house, some hundred yards from her
own home.

"This is where my parents live," she said.

He seemed to hesitate and then let go of her hand.

"I hope you will see me again," said Richard.

"I'd like that," replied Florentyna in a polite, dismissive way.

"Tomorrow?" asked Richard diffidently.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, why don't we go to the Blue Angel and see Bobby Short?" He took
her hand again.. "It's a little more romantic than Allen's."

Florentyna was momentarily taken aback.  Her plans for Richard had not
included any provisions for tomorrows.

"Not if you don't want to," he added before she could recover.

"I'd love to' ' she said quietly.

"I'm having dinner with my father, so why don't I pick you up at ten
o'clock?"

"No, no," said Florentyna. "I'll meet you there.  It's only two blocks
away."

"Ten o'clock then," he bent forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.
"Good night, Jessie," he said, and disappeared into the night.

Florentyna walked slowly back to her apartment, wishing she hadn't told
so many lies about herself.  Still, it might be over in a few days, She
couldn't help feeling that she hoped it wouldn't.

Maisie, who hadn't yet forgiven her, spent a cons!  e part of the next
day asking all about Richard.

Florentyna kept trying unsuccessfully to change the subjert.

Florentyna left Bloongdale's the moment the store closed, the first time
in nearly two years that she had left before Maisie.  She had a long
bath, put on the prettiest dress she thought she could get away with,
and walked to the Blue Angel.  When she arrived Richard was already
waiting for her outside the cloakroom.  He held her hand as they walked
into the lounge where the words of Bobby Short came floating through the
air.

Are you telling me the truth, or am I just another lie?

As Florentyna walked in, Short raised his arm in acknowledgment.
Florentyna pretended not to notice.  Mr.  Short had been a guest
performer at The Baron on two or three occasions and it never occurred
to Florentyna that he would remember her.  Richard looked puzzled and
then assumed he had been greeting someone else.  When they took a table
in the dimly-Et room, Florentyna sat with her back to the piano to be
certain it wouldn't happen again.

Richard ordered a bottle of wine without letting go of her hand and then
asked about her day, She didn't want to tell him; she wanted to tell him
the truth . "Richard, there is something I must .  .  ."

"Hi, Richard." A tall, handsome man stood at Richard's side.

"Hi, Steve.  Can I introduce Jessie Kovats - Steve Mellon.  Steven and I
were at Harvard together."

Florentyna listened to them chat about the New York Yankees,
Eisenhower's handicap - his golf, and why Yale was going from bad to
worse.  Steve eventually left with a gracious. "Nice to have met you,
Jessie." The moment had passed.

Richard began to tell her of his plans once he had left business school,
how he hoped to come to New York and join his father's bank, Lestex's.
She had heard the name before but couldn't remember in what connection.
For some reason it worried her. They spent a long evening together,
laughing, eating, talking, and just sitting, holding hands, listening to
Bobby Short.  When they walked home, Richard stopped on the corner of
Fifty-seventh and kissed her for the first time.  She couldn't recall
any other occasion when she was so aware of a first kiss.  When he
returned her to the shadows of Fifty-seventh Street, she left him and
her white lies, aware that this time he had not mentioned tomorrow.  She
felt slightly wistful about the whole non-affair.

She was take aback by how pleased she felt when Richard phoned her at
Bloomingdale's on Monday, asking if she would go out with him on Friday
evening.

They wound up spending most of that weekend together: a concert, a film
- even the New York Knicks did not escape them.  When the weekend was
over Florentyna found she had told so many innocent lies about her
background that she became inconsistent in her fabrication and puzzled
Richard more than once by contradicting herself.  It seemed to make it
all the more impossible to tell him another entirely different albeit
true, story.  When Richard returned to Harvard on the Sunday night, she
persuaded herself that the deception would seem unimportant once the
relationship had ended.  But Richard phoned every day during the week
and spent the next few weekends in her company: she began to realise it
wasn't going to end that easily.  She was falling in love with him. Once
she had admitted that to herself, she realised that she had to tell Mn!
the truth the following weekend.

Richard sat through his morning lecture, daydreaming.  He was so much in
love with that girl, he could.  not even concentmte on th. "Twenty-nine
crasw.  He wished he could work out how to tell his father that he
intended to marry a Polish girl who worked behind the scarf, glove and
woolly hats counter at Bloomingdal6's.  Richard was unable to fathom why
she was so unambitious for herself when she was obviously very bright :
he was certain that if she had had the chances he had been given, she
would not have ended up in Blooniingdale's.  Richard decided that his
parents would have to learn to live with his choice, because that
weekend he was going to ask Jessie to be his wife.

Whenever Richard returned to his parent's home in New York on a Friday
evening, he would always leave the house on East Sixty-eighth Street to
go and pick up something from BloorrAngdale's, normally a useless and
unwanted item, simply so that he could let Jessie know that he was back
in town; he had already given a pair of gloves to every relation he
possessed.  That Friday, he told his mother that he was going out to buy
some razor blades.

"Don't bother, darling, you can use your fathers)' she said.

"No, no, it's all right,, he said.. "I'll go and get some of my own.  We
don't use the same brand in any case," he added feebly.. "I'll only be a
few nidnutes."

He almost ran the eight blocks to Bloomingdale's and managed to rush in
just as they were closing the doors.

He knew he would be seeing Jessie at seven thirty, but he could never
resist a chance to chat with her.  Steve had told him once that love was
for suckers.  He had written on his steamed-up shaving niirror that
morning'I am a sucke?"

But when he reached jessie's counter, she was nowhere to be seen. Maisie
was standing in a corner filing her finger nails, and he asked her if
Jessie was still around.  Maisie looked up as if she had been
interrupted from her one important task of the day.

"No, she's already gone home, Richard.  Left a few seconds ago.  She
can't have gone far.  I thought you were meeting her later."

Richard ran out on to Lexington Avenue without replying.  He searched
for Jessie among the faces hurrying home, then spotted her on the other
side of the street, heading towards Fifth Avenue.  Since she obviously
wasn't going home, he somewhat guiltily decided to follow her.  As she
reached Scribner's at Forty-eighth Street, he stopped and watched her go
into the bookshop.  If she wanted something to read, surely she could
find what she wanted from Bloomingdale's.  He was puzzled.  He peered
through the window as Jessie talked to a sales clerk who left her for a
few moments and then returned with two books.  He could just make out
their titles: The Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith and Inside
Russia Today by John Gunther.  Jessie signed for them - that surprised
Richard - and left as he ducked around the corner.

"Who is she?" said Richard out loud as he watched her enter Bendel's.
The doorman saluted respectfully, leaving a distinct impression of
recognition.  Once again Richard peered through the window as assistants
fluttered around Florentyna with more than casual respect.  An older
lady appeared with a package which she had obviously been expecting. She
opened it to reveal a simple, stunning, evening dress.  Florentyna sled
and nodded as the assistant placed the dress in a brown and white box.
Florentyna mouthed the word. "Thank you" and turned towards the door
without even signing for her purchase.  Richard was mesmerised by the
scene and barely managed to avoid colliding with her as she ran out of
the shop and jumped into a cab.  He grabbed one himself, telling the
driver to follow her.

When the cab passed the small building outside of which they normally
parted, he began to feel queasy.  No wonder she had never asked him in.
The cab in front continued for another hundred yards and stopped outside
a spanking new block of flats complete with a uniformed hall porter who
opened the door for her.  With mingled anger and astonishment, he jumped
out of the cab and started to march up to the door through which she had
disappeared.

"That'fl be ninety-five cents, fella," said a voice behind him.

"Oh, sorry," said Richard and thrust five dollars at him, showing no
interest in his change.

"Thank you," said the driver.. "Someone sure is happy today."

Richard ran to the door of the building and managed to catch Florentyna
at the lift.  Florentyna watched the door slide open and stared at him
speechlessly.

"Who are you?" demanded Richard.

"Richard," she stammered.. "I was going to tell you everything this
evening.  I never seemed to find the right opportunity."

"Like hell you were going to tell me," he said, following Florentyna
into her apartment.. "Stringing me along with a pack of lies for nearly
three months.  Now the time has come for the truth."

Florentyna had never seen Richard angry before and suspected that it was
very rare.  He pushed his way past her brusquely and inspected the flat.
At the end of the entrance hall, there was a large living room with a
fine oriental rug.  A superb grandfather clock stood opposite a side
table on which there was a bowl of fresh flowers.  The room was
beautiful, even by the standards of Richard's own home.

"Nice place you've got yourself for a sales girl," said Richard.. "I
wonder which of your lovers pays for this."

Florentyna slapped him so hard that her own palm stung.. "How dare you?"
she said.. "Get out of my home."

As she heard herself saying the words, she started to cry.  She didn't
want him to leave  ever.  Richard took her in his arms.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said.. "That was a terrible thing to say.
Please forgive me.  It's just that I love you so much and thought I knew
you so well; and now I find I doet know anything about you."

"Richard, I love you too, and I'm sorry I slapped you.  I didn't want to
deceive you, but there's no one else - I promise you that." Her voice
cracked.

"I deserved it," he said as he kissed her.

Clasped tightly in one another's arms, they sank on to the couch and
remained almost motionless for some moments.  Gently, he stroked her
hair until her tears subsided.  Help me to take my clothes off, she
wanted to say, but remained silent, slipping her fingers through the gap
between his two top shirt buttons.  Richard seemed unwilling to make the
next move.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" she asked quietly.

"No," he replied.. "I want to stay awake with you all night." Without
speaking, they undressed and made love, gently and shyly, frightened to
hurt each other, desperately trying to please.  Finally, with her head
on his shoulder, they talked.

"I love you," said Richard.. "I have since the first moment we met. Will
you marry me?  Because I don't give a damn who you are, Jessie, or what
you do, but I know I must spend the rest of my life with you.. "I want
to marry you too, Richard, but first I have to tell you the truth."

Florentyna pulled Richard's jacket over their naked bodies and told him
all about herself, ending by explaining how she had come to be working
at Bloomingdale's.  When she had completed her story, Richard did not
speak.

"Have you stopped loving me already?" she said.. "Now you know who I
really am?"

"Darling," said Richard, very quietly, "my father hates your father."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that, the only time I ever heard your father's name mentioned in
his presence, he flew completely off the handle saying your father's
sole purpose in life seemed to be a desire to ruin the Kane family."

"What?  Why?" said Florentyna, shocked.. "I've never heard of your
father.  How do they even know each other?"

It was Richard's turn to tell Florentyna everything his mother had told
him about the quarrel with her father.

"Oh, my God," she said.. "That must have been the "disloyalty" my father
referred to when he changed banks after twenty-five years.  What shall
we do?"

"Tell them the truth," said Richard, "that we met innocently, fell in
love and now we're going to be married, and nothing they can do will
stop us."

"Let's wait a few weeks," said Florentyna.

"Why?" asked Richard.. "Do you think your father can talk you out of
marrying me?"

"No, Richard," she said, touching him gently as she placed her head back
on his shoulder.. "Never, my darling, but let's find out if we can do
anything to break it gently, before we present them both with a fait
accompli.  Anyway, maybe they won't feel as strongly as you imagine.
After all, you said the affair with the airlines company was nearly five
years ago.. "They still feel strongly, I promise you that.  My father
would be outraged if he saw us together, let alone thought we were
considering marriage."

"All the more reason to leave it for a little before we break the news
to them.  That will give us time to think about the best way to go about
it."

He kissed her again.. "I love you, Jessie.. "Florentyna."

"nat's something else I'm going to have to get used to," he said.. "I
love you, Florentyna."

During the next four weeks, Florentyna and Richard found out as much as
they could about their parents' feud, Florentyna by asking her mother
and George Novak a set of carefully worded questions, Richard from his
fathez's filing cabinet.  The extent of the mutual hatred appalled them.
It became more obvious with each discovery that there was no gentle way
to break the news of their love.  During the next four weeks they spent
every free moment they could find together.  Richard was always
attentive and kind, and nothing was too much trouble.  He went to
extremes to take her mind off the problem that they knew they would
eventually have to face.  They went to the theatre, skating, and on
Sundays took long walks through Central Park, always ending up in bed
long before it was dark.  Florentyna even accompanied Richard to watch
the New York Yankees which she'couldn't understand' and the New York
Philharmonic which she "adored'.  She refused to believe Richard could
play the cello until he gave her a private recital.  She applauded
enthusiastically when he had finished his favourite Brahms sonata
without noticing that he was staring into her grey eyes.

"We have got to tell them," he said, placing his bow on the stand and
taking her into his arms.

"I know we must.  I just don't want to hurt my father."

It was his turn to say. "I know."

She avoided his eyes.. "Next Friday Daddy will be back from Washington."

"men it's next Friday," said Richard, holding her so close she could
hardly breathe.

Richard returned to Harvard on Monday morning and they spoke to each
other on the phone every night, never weakening, determined that nothing
would stop them.

On Friday Richard arrived in New York earlier than usual and spent an
hour alone with Florentyna who had asked for a half-day off.  As they
walked to the corner of Fifty-seventh and Park, they stopped at the
flashing re. "Don't Walk' sign, and Richard turned to Florentyna and
asked her once again to marry him.  He took a small red leather box out
of his pocket, opened it and placed a ring on the third finger of her
left hand, a sapphire set in diamonds, so beautiful that tears came to
Florentyna's eyes; it was a perfect fit.  Passers-by looked at them
strangely as they stood on the corner, clinging to each other, ignoring
the green light flashin. "Walk'.  When eventually they did obey its
command, they kissed before parting and walked in opposite directions to
confront their parents.  They had agreed to meet again at Florentyna's
flat as soon as the ordeal was over.  She tried to smile through her
tears.

Florentyna walked towards the Baron Hotel, occasionally looking at her
ring.  It felt new and strange on her finger and

48o she imagined that the eyes of all who passed by would be drawn to
the magnificent sapphire and to her, it looked so beautiful next to the
antique ring, her favourite of the past.  She had been astonished when
Richard had placed it on her finger.  The problem of their parents'
rivalry had made her forget rings or any of the other trappings that
attend a happy engagement.  She touched the diamond-encircled sapphire
and found that it gave her courage, although she was aware that she was
walking more and more slowly as the hotel drew nearer and nearer.

When she reached the reception desk, the clerk told her that her father
was in the penthouse with George Novak.

He called to say that Florentyna was on her way up.  The lift reached
the forty-second floor far too quickly for Florentyna, and she hesitated
before leaving its safety.  She stepped out on to the green carpet and
heard the lift door slide closed behind her.  She stood alone in the
corridor for a moment before knocking quietly at her father's door.

Abel opened it irmnediately.

"Florentyna, what a pleasant surprise.  Come on in, my darling.  I
wasn't expecting to see you today."

George Novak was standing by the window, looking down at Park Avenue.,He
turned to greet his goddaughter.

Florentyna's eyes pleaded with him to leave.  If he stayed, she knew she
would lose her nerve.  Go, go, go, she said inside her brain.  George
sensed her anxiety immediately.

"I must get back to work, Abel.  There's a goddamn maharajah checking in
tonight."

"Tell him to park his elephants at the Plaza," said Abel genially.. "Now
Florentyna's here, stay and have another drink."

George looked at Florentyna.. "No, Abel, I have to go.  The man's taken
the whole of the thirty-third floor.  The least he'll expect is the
vice-president to greet him.  Goodnight, Florentyna," he said, kissing
her on the cheek and briefly clasping her arm, almost as though he knew
that she needed strength.  He left them alone and suddenly Florentyna
wished he had not gone.

"How's Blooniingdale's?" said Abel, ruflling his daughter's hair
affectionately.. "Have you told them yet they're going to lose the best
floor manager they've had in years?  They're sure going to be surprised
when they hear that Jessie Kovats' next job will be to open the Cannes
Baron." He laughed out loud.

"I'm going to be married," said Florentyna, shyly extending her left
hand.  She could think of nothing to add so she simply waited for his
reaction.

"This is a bit sudden, isn't it?" said Abel, more than a little taken
aback.

"Not really, Daddy.  I've known him for some time."

"Do I know the boy?  Have I ever met him?"

"No, Daddy, you haven't."

"Where does he come from?  What's his background?  Is he Polish?  Why
have you been so secretive about him, Florentyna?"

"He's not Polish, Daddy.  He's the son of a banker." Abel went white and
picked up his drink, swallowing the liquor in one gulp.  Florentyna knew
exactly what must be going through his mind as he poured himself another
drink, so she got the truth out quickly.

"His name is Richard Kane, Daddy."

Abel swung round to face her.. "Is he William Kane's son?" he demanded.

"Yes, he is," said Florentyna.

"You could consider marrying William Kane's son?  Do you know what that
man did to me?  He's the man who was responsible for the death of my
closest friend.  Yes, he's the man who made Davis Leroy commit suicide
and, not satisfied with that, he tried to bankrupt me.  If David Maxton
hadn't rescued me in time, Kane would have taken away my hotels and sold
them without a second thought.  And where would I be now if William Kane
had had his way?  You'd have been lucky to have ended up as a shop girl
at Bloomingdale's.  Have you thought about that, Florentyna?"

"Yes, Daddy, I've thought of little else these past few weeks.  Richard
and I are horrified about the hatred that exists between you and his
father.  He's facing him now."

"Well, I can tell you how he'll react," said Abel.. "He'll go berserk.
That man would never allow that precious wasp son of his to marry you so
you might as well forget the whole crazy idea, young lady."

His voice had risen to a shout.

"I can't forget it, Father," she said evenly.. "We love each other, and
we both need your blessing, not your anger."

"Now you listen to me, Florentyna," said Abel, his face now red with
fury.. "I forbid you to see the Kane boy ever again.  Do you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you.  But I will see him.  I'll not be parted from Richard
because you hate his father."

She found herself clutching her ring finger and trembling slightly.

"It will not happen," said Abel.. "I will never allow the marriage.  My
own daughter deserting me for the son of that bastard Kane.  I say you
will not marry him."

"I am not deserting you.  I would have run away with him if that was
true, but I couldn't do that behind your back.  I'm over twenty-one, and
I will marry Richard.  I intend to spend the rest of my life with him.
Please help us, Daddy.  Won't you meet him, and then you'll begin to
understand why I feel the way I do about him?"

"He will never be allowed to enter, my home.  I do not want to meet any
child of William Kane.  Never, do you hear me?"

"Then I must leave you."

"Florentyna, if you leave me, to marry the Kane boy, I'll cut you off
without a penny.  Without a penny, do you hear me?" Abel's voice
softened.. "Now use your common sense, girl, you'll get over him. You're
still young, and there are lots of other men who'd give their right arms
to marry you.. "I don't want lots of other men," said Florentyna.. "I've
met the man I'm going to marry, and it's not his fault that he is his
father's son.  Neither of us chose our fathers."

"If my family isn't good enough for you, then get out," said Abel.. "And
I swear I won't have your name mentioned in my presence again." He
turned away and stared out of the window.. "For the last time, I warn
you, Florentyna - do not marry that boy."

"Daddy, we are going to be married.  Although we're both past the stage
of needing your consent, we do ask for your approval."

Abel looked away from the window and walked towards her.. "Are you
pregnant?  Is that the reason?  Do you have to get married?"

"No, Father.. "Have you ever slept with him?" Abel demanded.

The question shook Florentyna but she didn't hesitate.

"Yes," she replied.. "Many times."

Abel raised his arm and hit her full across the face.  The silver band
caught the corner of her lip and she nearly fell.  Blood started to
trickle down her chin.  She turned, ran out of the room crying, and
leaned on the lift button, holding her bloody face.  "the door slid open
and George stepped out.  She had a fleeting glimpse of his shocked
expression as she stepped quickly in to the car and jabbed at the button
continuously.  As George stood and watched her crying, the lift doors
closed slowly.

Once Florentyna had reached the street, she took a cab straight to her
own apartment.  On the way, she dabbed at her cut lip with a Kleenex.
Richard was already there, standing under the marquee, head bowed and
looking miserable.

She jumped out of the cab and ran'to him.  Once they were upstairs, she
opened the door and quickly closed it behind them, feeling blessedly
safe.

"I love you, Richard."

"I love you, too," said Richard, as he threw his arms around her.

"I don't have to ask how your father reacted," said Florentyria,
clinging to him desperately.

"I've never seen him so angry," said Richard.. "Called your father a
liar and a crook, nothing more than a jumpedup Polish immigrant.  He
asked me why I didt marry somebody from my own background."

"What did you say to that?"

"I told him someone as wonderful as you couldn't be replaced by a
suitable Brahmin family friend, and he completely lost his temper."

Florentyna didn't let go of Richard as he spoke.

"Then he threatened to cut me off without a penny if I married you," he
continued.. "When will they understand we don't care a danm about their
money?  I tried appealing to my mother for support, but even she could
not control his temper.  He insisted that she leave the room.  I have
never seen him treat my mother that way before.  She was weeping, which
only made my resolve stronger.  I left him in mid-sentence.  God knows,
I hope he doesn't take it out on Virginia and Lucy.  What happened when
you left?"

"My father hit me," said Florentyna very quietly.. "For the first time
in my life.  I think he'll kill you if he finds us together.  Richard
darling, we must get out of here, before he finds out where you are, and
he's bound to try here first.  I'm so frightened."

"No need for you to be frightened, Florentyna.  We'll leave tonight and
go as far away as possible and to heU with them both."

"How quickly can you pack?" asked Florentyna.

"I can't," said Richard.. "I can never return home now.  You pack your
things and then we'll go.  I've got about a hundred dollars on me.  How
do you feel about marrying a hundred dollar man?"

"As much as a shop girl can hope for, I suppose - and to think I'd
dreamed of being a kept woman.  Next you'll be wanting a dowry,"
Florentyna added while rummaging in her bag.. "Well, I've got two
hundred and twelve dollars and an American Express card, so you owe me
fifty-six dollars, Richard Kane, but I'll consider repayment at a dollar
a year."

In thirty minutes Florentyna was packed.  Then I she sat down at her
desk, scrawled a note and left the envelope on the table by the side of
her bed.

Richard hailed a cab.  Florentyna was delighted to find how capable
Richard was in a crisis and it made her feel more relaxed.. "Idlewild,"
he said, placing Florentyna's three cases in the boot.

At the airport he booked a flight to San Francisco; they chose the
Golden Gate City simply because it seemed the most distant point on the
map of America.

At seven thirty, the American Airlines Super Constellation 1049 taxied
out on to the runway to start its sevenhour flight.

Richard helped Florentyna with her seat belt.  She smiled at him.

"Do you know how much I love you, Mr.  Kane?"

"Yes, I think so - Mrs. Kane," he replied.

Abel and George arrived at Florentyna's flat on East fifty-seventh
Street a few minutes after she and Richard had left for the airport.
Abel was already remorseful and regretting the blow he had struck his
daughter. He did not care to conjecture about what his life would be
like without his only child.  He thought if he could only reach her
before it was too late, he might, with gentle persuasion, still talk her
out of marrying the Kane boy.  He was willing to offer her anything to
stop e marriage.

George rang the door bell as he and Abel stood outside her door.  No one
answered.  George pressed the bell again, and they waited for some time
before Abel used the key Florentyna had always left with him for
emergencies.

They searched the place, neither really expecting to find her.

"She must have left already," said George, as he joined Abel in the
bedroom.

"Yes, but where?" said Abel, and then he saw an envelope addressed to
him on the table.  He remembered the last letter left for him by the
side of a bed that had not been slept in.

He ripped it open.

Dear Daddy, Please forgive me for running away but I do love Richard and
will not give him up because of your hatred for his father.  We will be
married right away and nothing you can do will prevent it.  If you ever
try to hann him in any way, you will be harming me.  Neither of us
intend to return to New York until you have ended the senseless feud
between our family an ' d the Kane's.  I love you more than you will
ever realise and I shall always be thankful for everything you have done
for me.  I pray that this is not the end of our relationship but until
you can change your mind. "Never seek the wind in the field - it is
useless to try and find what is gone."

Your loving,daughter, Florentyna Abel collapsed on to the bed, and
passed the letter to George, who read the handwritten note and asked
helplessly. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, George.  I want my daughter back, even if it means dealing direct
with that bastard Kane.  There's only one thing I feel certain of : he
will want this marriage stopped whatever sacrifice he has to make.  Get
him on the phone."

It took George some time to locate William Kane's unlisted number.  The
night security officer at Lester's Bank finally gave it to him when
George insisted that it was a family emergency.  Abel sat silently on
the bed, Florentyna's letter in his hand ' remembering how when she was
a little girl, he had taught her the old Polish proverb that she had now
quoted back to him.  When George was put through to the Kane residence,
a male voice answered the phone.

"May I speak to Mr.  William Kane?" asked George.

"Whom shall I say is calling?" asked the imperturbable voice.

"Mr.  Abel Rosnovski," said George.

"I'll see if he is in, sir."

"I think that was Kane's butler.  He's gone to look for him," said
George, as he passed the receiver over to Abel.

Abel waited, his fingers tapping on the bedside table.

"William Kane speaking."

"This is Abel Rosnovski."

"Indeed?" William's tone was icy.. "And when exactly did you think of
setting up your daughter with my son?

At the time, no doubt, when you failed so conspicuously to cause the
downfall of my bank?"

"Don't be such a danm .  .  ." Abel checked himself.. "I want this
marriage stopped every bit as much as you do.

I never tried to take away your son.  I only learned of his existence
today.  I love my daughter even more than I hate you, and I don't want
to lose her.  Can't we get together and work something out between us?"

"No," said William.. "I asked you that same question once in the past,
Mr.  Rosnovski, and you made it very clear when and where you would meet
me.  I can wait until then, because I am confident you will find it is
you who are there, not I."

"What's the good of raking over the past now, Kane?  If you know where
they are, perhaps we can stop them.

'nat's what you want, too.  Or are you so goddanin proud that you'll
stand by and watch your son marry my girl rather than help ...  ?"

The telephone clicked as he spoke the word "help'.  Abel buried his face
in his hands and wept.  George took him back to the Baron.

Through that night and the following day, Abel tried every way he could
think of to find Florentyna.  He even rang her mother, who admitted that
their daughter had told her all about Richard Kane.

"He sounded rather nice," she added spitefully.

"Do you know where they are right now?" asked Abel impatiently.

"Yes.. "Where?"

"Find out for yourself." Another telephone click.

Abel placed advertisements in newspapers and even bought radio time.  He
tried to get the police involved, but they could only put out a general
call since she was over twenty-one.  No word came from her.  Finally, he
hAd t6 Admit to himself that by the time he found her she would
undoubtedly be married to the Kane boy.

He re-read her letter many times, and resolved that he would never
attempt to harm the boy in any way.  But the father, that was a
different matter.  He, Abel Rosnovski, had gone down on his knees and
pleaded, and the bastard hadt even listened.  Abel vowed that when the
chance presented itself, he would finish William Kane off once and for
all.  George became fearful at the intensity of his old friend's
passion.

"Shall I cancel your European trip?" he asked.

Abel had completely forgotten that he was meant to accompany Florentyna
to Europe after she had finished her two years with Bloongdale's at the
end of the month.  She was going to open the Edinburgh Baron and the
Cannes Baron.  Now he didn't care who opened what, or whether the hotels
were opened at all.

"I can't cancel," replied Abel.. "I'll have to go and open the hotels
myself, but while I'm away, George, you find out exactly where
Florentyna is without letting her know.  She mustiyt think I'm spying on
her; she would never forgive me if she found out.  Your best bet may
well be Zaphia, but be careful because you can be sure she will want to
take every advantage of what has happened.  It was obvious she had
already briefed Florentyna on everything she knew about Kane."

"Do you want Osborne to do anything about the Kane shares?"

"No, nothing for the moment.  Now is not the appropriate time for
finishing Kane off.  When I do, I want to be certain that it's once and
for all.  Leave Kane alone for the time being.  I can always come back
to him.  For now, concentrate on finding Florentyna."

George promised that he would have found her by the time Abel returned.

Abel opened the Edinburgh Baron three weeks later.  The hotel looked
quite magnificent as it stood on the hill dominating the Athens of the
north.  It was always little things that annoyed Abel most when he
opened a new hotel and he would always check them on arrival.  A small
electric shock when you touched a light switch caused by nylon carpets.
Room service that took forty minutes to materialise or a bed that was
too small for anyone who was either fat or tall.  The press was quick to
point out that it had been expected that Florentyna Rosnovski, daughter
of the Chicago Baron, would perform the opening ceremony.  One of the
gossip columnists, from the Sunday Express, hinted at a family rift and
reported that Abel had not been his usual exuberant, bouncy self.  Abel
denied the suggestion unconvincingly, retorting that he was over fifty -
not an age for bouncing, his public relations man had told him to say.
The press remained unconvinced and the following day the Daily Mail
printed a photograph of a discarded engraved bronze plaque, discovered
on a rubbish heap, which read

The Edinburgh Baron opened b. "Florentyna Rosnovski October 17, 1957
Abel flew on to Cannes.  Another splendid hotel, this time overlooking
the Mediterranean but it didn't help him to get Florentyna out of his
mind.  Another discarded plaque, this one in French.  The openings were
ashes without her.

Abel was beginning to dread that he might spend the rest of his life
without seeing his daughter again.  To kill the loneliness, he slept
with some very expensive and some rather cheap women.  None of them
helped.  William Kane's son now possessed the one person he truly loved.
France no longer held any excitement for him, and once he had finished
his business there, Abel flew on to Bonn where he completed negotiations
for the site on which he would build the first Baron in Germany.  He
kept in constant touch with George by phone, but Florentyna had not been
found, and there was some very disturbing news concerning Henry Osborne.

"He's got himself in heavy debt with the bookmakers again," said George.

"I warned him last time that I was through bailing him out," said Abel.
"He's been no damn use to anyone since he lost his seat in Congress.  I
suppose I'll have to deal with the problem when I get back."

"He's making threats,"said George.

"There's nothing new about that.  I've never let them worry me in the
past," said Abel.. "Tell him whatever it is he wants, it will have to
wait until my return."

"When do you expect to be back?" asked George.

"Three weeks, four at the most.  I want to look at some sites in Turkey
and Egypt.  Hilton's already started building there, so I'm going to
find out why.  Which reminds me, George, the experts tell me you'll
never be able to reach me once the plane has landed in the Middle East.
Those damned Arabs haven't worked out how to find each other, let alone
visitors from foreign countries, so I'll leave you to run everything as
usual until you hear from me."

Abel spent over three weeks looking at sites for new hotels all over the
Arab states.  I-Es advisors were legion, most of them clainidng the
title of Prince, each assuring Abel that they had the real influence as
a very close personal friend of the key minister, a distant cousin in
fact.  However, it always turned out to be the wrong minister or too
distant a a cousin.  The only solid conclusion Abel reached, after
twenty-three days in the dust, sand, and heat with soda but no whisky,
was that if his advisors' forecasts on the Middle East oil reserves were
accurate, the Gulf States were going to need a lot of hotels in the long
term and the Baron Group had to start planning carefully if they were
not to be left behind.

Abel managed to find several sites on which to build hotels, through his
several princes, but he did not have the time to discover which of them
had the real power to fix the officials.  He objected to bribery only
when the money reached the wrong hands.  At least in America, Henry
Osborne had always known which officials needed to be taken care of.
Abel set up a small office in Bahrain, leaving his local representative
in no doubt that the Baron Group was looking for sites throughout the
Arab world, but not for princes or the cousins of ministers.

He flew on to Istanbul, where he almost immediately found the perfect
place to build a hotel, overlooking the Bosphorus, only a hundred yards
from the old British embassy.  He mused as he stood on the barren ground
of his latest acquisition, recalling when he had last been here.  He
clenched his fist and held the wrist of his right hand.  He could hear
again the cries of the mob - it still made him feel frightened and sick
although more than thirty years had passed.

Exhausted from his travels, Abel flew home to New York.  During the
interminable journey he thought of little but Florentyna, and whether
George had found her.  As always, George was standing, waiting outside
the customs gate to meet him.  His expression indicated nothing.

"What news?" asked Abel as he climbed into the back of the Cadillac
while the chauffeur put his bags in the trunk.

"Some good, some bad," said George, as he pressed a button by the side
window.  A sheet of glass glided up between the front and rear sections
of the car.. "Florentyna has been in touch with her mother.  She's
living in a small apartment in San Francisco."

"Married?" said Abel.

"Yes," said George.

Neither spoke for some moments.

"And the Kane boy?" asked Abel.

"He's found a job in a bank.  It seems a lot of people turned him down
because word got around that he didn't finish at the Harvard Business
School, and his father wouldn't supply a reference.  Not many people
will consider employing him if as a consequence they might lose his
father's business.  He finally was hired as a teller with the Bank of
America.  Way below what he might have expected with his
qualifications.. "And Florentyna?"

"She's working as the assistant manager in a fashion shop called "Wayout
Columbus" near Golden Gate Park.

She's also been trying to borrow money from several banks."

"Why?  Is she inany sort of trouble?" asked Abel anxiously.

"No, she's looking for capital to open her own shop."

"How much is she looking for?"

"Only thirty-four thousand dollars which she needs for the lease on a
small building on Nob Hill."

Abel sat back thinking about what George had said, his short fingers
tapping on the car window.. "See that she gets the money, George.  Make
it look as if the transaction is an ordinary bank loan and be sure that
ies not traceable back to me." He continued tapping.. "This must always
remain simply between the two of us, George.. "Anything you say, Abel."

"And keep me informed of every move she makes, however trivial.. "What
about him?"

"I'm not interested in him," said Abel.. "Now what's the bad news?"

"Trouble with Henry Osborne again.  It seems he owes money everywhere.
I'm also fairly certain his only source of income is now you.  He's
started making veiled threats about you condoning bribes in the early
days when we were setting up the group.  Says he's kept all the papers
from the first day he met you when he claims he fixed an extra payment
after the fire at the old Richmond in Chicago, and he now has a file
three inches thick."

"I'll deal with Henry in the morning," said Abel.

George spent the remainder of the drive into Manhattan bringing Abel up
to date on the rest of the group's affairs which were all satisfactory,
except for a takeover of the Baron in Lagos after.  yet another coup.
That never worried Abel.

The next morning Abel saw Henry Osborne.  He looked old and tired, and
the once smooth handsome face was now heavily lined.  He made no mention
of the three-inch thick file.

"I need a little money to get me through a tricky period," said Henry.
"I've been a bit unlucky."

"Again, Henry?  You should know better at your age.  You're a born loser
with horses and women.  How much do you need this time?"

"Ten thousand would see me through," said Henry.

"Ten thousand," said Abel, spitting out the words.. "What do you think I
am, a gold mine?  It was only five thousand last time."

"Inflation," said Henry, trying to laugh.

"This is the last time, do you understand me?" said Abel as he took out
his cheque book.. "Come begging once more, Henry, and I'll remove you
from the board as a director and turn you out without a penny."

"You're a real friend, Abel.  I swear I'll never come back again, I
promise you that, never again." Henry plucked a Romeo y julliyta from
the humidor on the table in front of Abel and lit it.. "Thanks, Abel,
you'll never regret your decision."

Henry left, puffing away at the cigar, as George came in.  George waited
for the door to be closed.

"What happened with Henry ? "I gave in for the last time," said Abel. "I
dot know why - it cost me ten thousand."

"Jesus, I feel like the brother of the prodigal son," said George.
"Because he'll be back again.  I'd be willing to put money on that."
"He'd better not," said Abel, "because I'm through with him.  Whatever
he has done for me in the past, it's now quits.  What's the latest news
on Florentyna?"

"Florentyna's fine, but you were right about Zaphia : she's been making
regular monthly trips to the coast to see them both."

"Bloody woman," said Abel.

"Mrs.  Kane has been out a couple of times as well." added George.

"And Kane?"

"No sign of him relenting."

"That's one thing we have in common," said Abel.

"I've set up a facility for her with the Crocker National Bank of San
Francisco," continued George.. "She made an approach to the loan officer
there less than a week ago.  The agreement will appear to her as if ilcs
one of the bank's ordinary loan transactions, with no special favours.
In fact, they're charging her half a percent more than usual so there
can be no reason for her to be suspicious.  What she will never know is
that the loan is covered by your guarantee."

."Thanks, George, thaes perfect.  I'll bet you ten dollars she pays off
the loan within two years and never needs to go back for another."

"I'd want odds of five to one on that," said George.. "Why dot you try
Henry; he's more of a sucker."

Abel laughed.. "Keep me briefed, George, on everything she's up to,
everything."

William felt he had been briefed on everything as he studied Thaddeus
Cohen's quarterly report, and only one thing now worried him.  Why was
Abel Rosnovski still doing nothing with his vast shareholding in
Lester's?  William couldret help remembering that he still owned six
percent of the bank and with two more percent he could invoke Article
Seven of Lester's by-laws.  It was hard to believe that Rosnovski still
feared S.E.C.  regulations, especially as the Eisenhower administration
was settled into its second term in the White House and had never shown
any interest in pursuing the original enquiry.

William was fascinated to read that Henry Osborne was once again in
financial trouble, and that Rosnovski still kept bailing him out.
William wondered for how much longer that would go on, and what Henry
had on Rosnovski.  Was it possible that Rosnovski had enough problems of
his own without adding William Kane to them?  Cohen's report reviewed
progress on the eight new hotels Rosnovski was building across the
world.  The London Baron was losing money and the Lagos Baron was out of
commission; otherwise he continued to grow in strength.  William re-read
the attached clipping from the Sunday Express, reporting that Florentyna
Rosnovski had not opened the Edinburgh Baron, and he thought about his
son.  Then he closed the report and locked the file in his safe,
convinced there was nothing in it of importance to concern himself with.
His chauffeur drove him home.

William regretted his early loss of temper with Richard.  Although he
did not want the Rosnovski girl in his life, he wished he had not turned
his back so irrevocably on his only son.  Kate had pleaded on Richard's
behalf, and she and William had had a long and bitter argument - so rare
in their married life - which they had been unable to resolve.

Kate tried every tactic from gentle persuasion to tears, but nothing
seemed to move William.  Virginia and Lucy also missed their brother.
"There's no one who will be critical of my paintings," said Virginia.

"Don't you mean rude?" ask-ed Kate.

Virginia tried to smile.

Lucy used to lock herself in the bathroom, turn on the water, and write
secret letters to Richard, who could never figure out why they always
seemed damp.  No one dared to mention Richard's name in the house in
front of William, but it was causing a sad rift within the family.

He had tried spending more time at the bank, even working round the
clock in the hope that it might help.  It didn't.  The bank was once
again making heavy demands on his energy at the very time when he most
felt like a rest.

He had appointed six new vice-presidents over the previous two years,
hoping they would take some of the load off his shoulders.  The reverse
had turned out to be the case.  They had created more work and more
decisions from hijrn to make and the brightest of them, Jake Thomas,
already looked the most likely candidate to take WiRiam7s place as '
chairman if Richard did not give up the Rosnovski girl. Although the
profits of the bank continued to rise each year, William found he was no
longer interested in r=Eng money for money's sake. Perhaps he now faced
the same problem that Charles Lester had encountered: he had no son to
leave his fortune and the chairmanship to now that he had cut Richard
out of his life, rewritten his will and dismantled his trust.

In the year of their silver wedding anniversary, William decided to take
Kate and the girls for a long holiday to Europe in the hope that it
might help to put Richard out of their minds.  They flew to London on a
Boeing 707 and stayed at the Ritz.  The hotel brought back many happy
memories of Williams first trip to Europe with Kate.  They made a
sentimental journey to Oxford and showed Virginia and Lucy the
university city, and then went on to Stratford-onAvon to see some
Shakespeare: Richard the Third with Laurence Olivier.  They could have
wished for a king with another name.

On the return journey from Stratford they stopped at the church in
Henley-on-Thames where William and Kate had been married.they would have
stayed at the BeU Inn again, but they still had only one vacant room. An
argument started between William and Kate in the car on the way back to
London as to whether it had been the Reverend Tukesbury or the Reverend
Dukesbury who had married them.  They came to no satisfactory conclusion
before reaching the Ritz.  On one thing they were able to agree; the new
roof on the parish church had worn well.

William kissed Kate gently when he climbed into bed that night.. "Best
five hundred pounds I ever invested," he said.

ey flew on to Italy a week later, having seen every English sight any
self-respecting American tourist is meant to visit and many they usually
miss.  In Rome, the girls drank too much bad Italian wine and made
themselves ill on the night of Virginia's birthday, while William ate
too much good pasta and put on seven pounds.  All of them would have
been so much happier if they could have talked of the forbidden topic of
Richard.  Virginia cried that night and Kate tried to comfort her.

"Why doesn't someone tell Daddy that some things are more important than
pride?" Virginia kept asking.

Kate had no reply.

When they returned to New York, William was refreshed and eager once
again to plunge back into his work at the bank.  He lost the seven
pounds in seven days.

As the months passed by, he felt things were becoming quite routine
again.  Routine disappeared from his mind when Virginia, just out of
Sweetbriar, announced she was going to marry a student from the
University of Virginia Law School.  The news shook William.

"She's not old enough," he said.

"Virginia's twenty-two," said Kate.. "She's not a child any longer,
William.  How do you feel about becoming a grandfather?" she added,
regretting the sequence of her words immediately she had spoken them.

"What do you mean?" said William, horrified.. "Virginia isn't pregnant,
is she?"

"Good gracious, no," said Kate, and then she spoke more softly as if she
had been found out.. "Richard and Florentyna have had a baby."

"How do you know?"

"Richard wrote to tell me the good news," replied Kate.. "Hasn't the
time come for you to forgive him, William?"

"Never," said William and marched out of the room in anger.

Kate sighed wearily: he had not even asked if his grandchild was a boy
or a girl.

Virginia's wedding took place in Trinity Church, Boston, on a beautiful
spring afternoon in late March of the following year.  William
thoroughly approved of David Telford, the young lawyer with whom
Virginia had chosen to spend the rest of her life.

Virginia had wanted Richard to be an usher and Kate had begged William
to invite him to the wedding, but he had steadfastly refused.  He had
wanted to say yes, but he knew that Richard would never agree to coming
without the Rosnovski girl.  On the day of the wedding Richard sent a
present and a telegram to his sister.  William would not allow the
telegram to be read at the reception afterwards.

Book Six

Abel was sitting alone in his office on the forty-second floor of the
New York Baron waiting to see a fund raiser from the Kennedy campaign.
The man was already twenty minutes late.  Abel was tapping his fingers
impatiently on his desk when his secretary came in.

"Mr.  Vincent Hogan to see you, sir."

Abel sprang out of his chair.. "Come in, Mr.  Hogan," he said, slapping
the good-looking young man on the back.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr.  Rosnovski.  I'm sorry I'm a little late," said the
unmistakably Bostonian voice.

"I didn't notice," said Abel.. "Would you care for a drink, Mr.  Hogan?"

"No, thank you, Mr.  Rosnovski.  I try not to drink when I have to see
so many people in one day."

"Absolutely right.  I hope you won't mind if I have one," said Abel.
"I'm not planning on seeing many people today." Hogan laughed like a man
who knew he was in for a day of other people's jokes.  Abel poured a
whisky.

"Now, what can I do for you, Mr.  Hogan?"

"Well, Mr.  Rosnovski, we were hoping the party could once again count
on your support."

"I've always been a Democrat, as you know, Mr.  Hogan.  I supported
Franklin D.  Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Adlai Stevenson, although I
couldn't understand what Adlai was talking about half the time." Both
men laughed falsely.

"I also helped my old friend, Dick Daley, in Chicago and I've been
backing young Ed Muskie - the son of a Polish immigrant, you know -
since his campaign for governor of Maine back in'54."

"You've been a loyal supporter of the party in the past, there's no
denying that, Mr.  Rosnovski," said Vincent Hogan, in a tone that
indicated that the statutory time for small talk had run out.. "We also
know the Democrats, not least of all former Congressman Osborne, have
done the odd favour for you in return.  I don't think it's necessary for
me to go into any details of that unpleasant little incident."

"That's long since past," said Abel, "and well behind me.. "I agree,"
said Mr.  Hogan, "and although most self-made multi-niillionaires
couldn't face having their affairs looked into too closely, you will be
the first to appreciate that we have to be especially careful.  The
candidate, as you will understand, cannot afford to take any personal
risks so near the election.  Nixon would love a scandal at this stage of
the race."

"We understand each other clearly, Mr.  Hogan.  Now that's out of the
way, how much were you expecting from me for the election campaign?"

"I need every penny I can lay my hands on."Hogan's words came across
clipped and slow.. "Nixon is gathering a lot of support across the
country, and ies going to be a very close thing getting our man into the
White House."

"Well, I'll support Kennedy," said Abel, "if he supports me.  Ies as
simple as that."

"He's delighted to support you, Mr.  Rosnovski.  We all realise that
you're now a pillar of the Polish community, and Senator Kennedy is
personally aware of the brave stand you took on behalf of your
countrymen who are still in slave labour camps behind the Iron Curtain,
not to mention the service you gave in the war.  I have been authorised
to let you know that the candidate has already agreed to open your new
hotel in Los Angeles during his campaign trip.. "That's good news," said
Abel.

"the candidate is also fully aware of your desire to grant Poland most
favoured nation status in foreign trade with the United States."

"No more than we deserve after our service in the last war," said Abel,
and paused briefly.. "What about the other little matter?" he asked.

"Senator Kennedy is canvassing Polish-American opinion at the moment,
and we haven't met with any objections.

He naturally cannot come to a final decision until after he is elected."

"Naturally.  Would two hundred and fifty thousand dollars help him make
that decision?" asked Abel.

Vincent Hogan didn't speak.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars it is then," said Abel.. "The
money will be in your campaign fund headquarters by the'end of the week,
Mr.  Hogan.  You have my word on it."

The business was over, the bargain struck.  Abel rose.. "Please give
Senator Kennedy my best wishes, and add that of course I hope he'll be
the next President of the United States.  I always loathed Richard Nixon
after his despicable treatment of Helen Gahagan Douglas, and in any
case, there are personal reasons why I don't want Henry Cabot Lodge as
Vice-President."

"I shall be delighted to pass on your message," said Mr.  Hogan, "and
thank you for your continued support of the Democratic party, and in
particular, of the candidate." Th. "Bostonian thrust out his hand.  Abel
grasped it.

"Keep in touch, Mr.  Hogan.  I don't part with that sort of money
without expecting a return on my investment.. "I fully understand,"
replied Vincent Hogan.

Abel showed his guest to the lift and returned smiling to his office.
His fingers started to tap on the desk a ain.

I-Es secretary reappeared.      .

"Ask Mr.  Novak to come in," said Abel.

George came through from his office a few moments later.

"I think I've pulled it off, George.. "Congratulations, Abel, I'm
delighted.  If Kennedy becomes the next President, then one of your
biggest dreams will be fulfilled.  How proud Florentyna will be of you."

Abel smiled when he heard her name.. "Do you know what that little minx
has been up to?" he said, laughing.. "Did you see the Los Angeles Times
last week, George?"

George shook his head, and Abel passed him a copy of the paper.  One of
the items was circled in red ink.

George read the article aloud. "Florentyna Kane opens her third shop in
Los Angeles.  She already owns two in San Francisco and is hoping to
open another in San Diego before the end of the year.  "Florentyna's",
as they are known, are fast becoming to California what Balenciaga is to
Paris."

George laughed as he put the paper down.

"She must have written the piece herself," said Abel.. "I can't wait for
her to open a Florentyna's in New York.

I'll bet she achieves that within five years, ten at the most.  Do you
want to take another bet on that, George?"

"I didn't take the first one, if you remember, Abel, otherwise I would
already have been out ten dollars."

Abel looked up, his voice quieter.. "Do you think she'd come and see
Senator Kennedy open the new Baron in Los Angeles, George?  Do you think
she might?"

"Not unless the Kane boy is invited along as well.. "Never," said Abel.
"That Kane boy is nothing.  I read all the facts in your last report,
George.  He's left the Bank of America to work with Florentyna; couldt
even hold down a good job, had to fall back on her success."

"You're becoming a selective reader, Abel.  You know very well that's
not the way it was.  I made the circumstances very clear.  The Kane boy
is in charge of the finances while Florentyna runs the shops, and it's
proving to be an ideal partnership.  Don't ever forget that a major bank
offered Kane the chance to head up its European department but
Florentyna begged him to join her when she no longer found it possible
to control the finances herself.

Abel, you'll have to face the fact that their marriage is a success.  I
know it's hard for you to stomach, but why don't you climb down off your
high horse and meet the boy?"

"Yore my closest friend, George.  No one else in the world would dare to
speak to me like that.  So no one knows better than you why I caret
climb down, not until that bastard Kane shows he is willing to meet me
half way, but until then, I won't crawl again while he's still alive to
watch me."

"What if you were to die first, Abel?  You're exactly the same age."

"Then I'd lose and Florentyna inherits everything."

"You told me she wouldn't get a thing.  You were going to change your
will in favour of your grandson."

"I couldn't do it, George.  When the time came to sign the documents, I
just couldn't do it.  What the hell, that damned grandson is going to
end up with both our fortunes in the end."

Abel removed a wallet from his inside pocket, shuffled through several
old pictures of Florentyna and took out a new one of his grandson, which
he proffered to George.. "Good-looking little boy." said George.

"Sure is," said Abel.. "The spitting image of his mother."

George laughed.. "You never give up, do you, Abel?"

"What do you think they call him?"

"What do you mean?" said George.. "You know very well what his name is."

"I mean what do you think they actually call him?"

"How should I know?" said George.

"Find out," said Abel.. "I care."

"How am I meant to do that?" said George.. "Have someone follow them
while they're pushing the pram around Golden Gate Park?  You left clear
instructions that Florentyna must never find out that you're still
taking an interest in her or the Kane boy."

"That reminds me, I still have a little matter to settle with his
father," said Abel.

"What are you going to do about the Lester shares?" asked George.
"Because Peter Parfitt has been showing more interest in selling his two
percent lately, and I wouldn't trust Henry with the negotiations.  With
those two working on the sale, everybody will be in on the deal except
you."

"I'm doing nothing.  Much as I hate Kane, I don't want any trouble with
him until we know if Kennedy has won the election.  So I'm leaving the
whole situation dormant for the moment.  If Kennedy fails, I'll buy
Parfitt's two percent and go ahead with the plan that we've already
discussed.

And don't worry yourself about Henry; I've already taken him off the
Kane file.  From now on I'm handling that myself."

"I do worry, Abel.  I know he's in debt again to half the bookmakers in
Chicago, and I wouldn't be surprised if he arrived in New York on the
scrounge any minute now."

"Henry won't be coming here.  I made the situation very clear last time
I saw him that he wouldn't get another dime out of me.  If he does come
begging, he'll only lose his seat on the board and with it his only
source of income."

"That worries me even more," said George.. "Let's say he took it on
himself to go to Kane direct for the money."

"Not possible, George.  Henry is the one man alive who hates Kane even
more than I do, and not without reason.. "How can you be so sure of
that?"

"William Kane's mother was Henry's second wife," said Abel, "and young
William, aged only sixteen, threw him out of his own home."

"Good God, how did you come across that piece of information?"

"There's nothing I don't know about William Kane," said Abel.. "Or Henry
for that matter.  Absolutely nothing  from the fact that we started life
on the same day, and I'd be willing to bet my good leg there's nothing
he doesn't know about me so we have to be circumspect for the time
being, but you need have no fear of Henry turning stool pigeon.  He'd
die before he had to admit his real name was Vittorio Tosna and he once
served a jail sentence."

"Good God - does Henry realise you know all this?"

"No, he doesn't.  I've kept it to myself for years always believing,
George, that if you think a man might threaten you at some time then you
should keep a little more up your sleeve than your arm.  I've never
trusted Henry since the days he suggested swindling Great Western
Casualty while he was still actually working for them, although I'd be
the first to admit he's been very useful to me in the past and I am
confident he isn't going to cause me any trouble in the future, because
without his director's salary, he becomes penniless overnight. So forget
Henry and let's be a little more positive.  Whaes the latest date for
the completion of the Los Angeles Baron?"

"Middle of September," replied George.

"Perfect.  That will be six weeks before the election.  When Kennedy
opens that hotel, the news will bit every front page in America."

When William returned to New York, after a bankers' conference in
Washington,.  he found a message awaiting him, requesting that he
contact Thaddeus Cohen immediately.  He hadn't spoken to Cohen for a
considerable time, as Abel Rosnovski had caused no direct trouble since
the abortive telephone conversation on the eve of Richard and
Florentyna's marriage, nearly three years before.  The successive
quarterly reports had merely confirmed that Rosnovski was neither trying
to buy or sell any of the bank's shares.  Nevertheless, William called
Thaddeus Cohen immediately and somewhat apprehensively.  The lawyer told
William that he had stumbled across some information which he did not
wish to divulge over the phone.  William asked him to come over to the
bank as soon as it was convenient.

Thaddeus Cohen arrived forty minutes later.  William heard him out in
attentive silence.

When Cohen had finished his revelation, William said. "Your father would
never have approved of such underhand methods."

"Neither would yours," replied Thaddeus Cohen, "but they didn't have to
deal with the likes of Abel Rosnovski.. "What makes you think your plan
will work?"

"Look at the Bernard Goldfine and Sherman Adams case, only one thousand
six hundred and forty-two dollars involved in hotel bills and a vicuna
coat, but it sure embarrassed the hell out of the President when Adams
was accused of preferred treatment because he was a Presidential
assistant.  We know Mr.  Rosnovski is aiming a lot higher than that.  It
should, therefore, be easier to bring him down.. "Game, set and match.
How much is it going to cost me?"

"Twenty-five thousand at the outside, but I may be able to pll the whole
deal off for less."

"How can you be sure that Rosnovski doesn't realise that I am personally
involved ?I

"I'd use a third person who won't even know your name to act as an
intermediary."

"And if you pull it off, what would you recommend we do then?"

"You send all the details to Senator John Kennedy's office, and I
guarantee that will finish off Abel Rosnovski's ambitious plans once and
for all because the moment his credibility has been shattered he will be
a spent force and find it quite impossible to invoke Article Seven of
the bank's by-laws even if he did get hold of eight percent of
Lesier's."

"Maybe - if Kennedy becomes the President," said William.. "But what
happens if Nixon wins the election?

He's way ahead in the opinion polls and I'd certainly back his chances
against Kennedy.  Can you really imagine that America would ever send a
Roman Catholic to the White House?  I can't, but then on the other hand
I admit that an investment of twenty-five thousand is small enough if
there's better than an outside chance the move will finish Abel
Rosnovski off once and for all and leave me secure at the bank.. "If
Kennedy becomes President..  ."

William opened the drawer of his desk, took out a large cheque book
marked "private account' and wrote out the figures.  Two, five, zero,
zero, zero.

AbeYs priction that Renneds opening of the Baron would hit every front
page did not turn out to be wholly accurate.  Although the candidate did
indeed open the hotel, he had to appear at dozens of other events in Los
Angeles that day and face Nixon for a televised debate the following
evening.  Nevertheless, the opening of the newest Baron gained fairly
wide coverage in the national press, and Vincent Hogan assured Abel
privately that Kennedy had not forgotten the other little matter.
Florentyna's shop was only a few hundred yards away, but father and
daughter never did meet.

After the Illinois returns came in, and John F.  Kennedy looked certain
to be the thirty-fifth President of the United States, Abel drank Mayor
Daley's health and celebrated at the Democratic National Headquarters on
Times Square.

He did not return home to his bed until nearly five the next morning.

"Hell, I have a lot to celebrate," he told George.. "I'm going to be the
next - , ." He fell asleep before he finished the sentence.  George sled
and put him to bed.

William watched the results of the election in the peace of his study on
East Sixty-eighth Street.  After the Illinois returns which were not
confirmed until ten eclock the next morning (William never had trusted
Mayor Daley), Walter Cronkite declared it was all over bar the shouting,
and William picked up his phone and dialled Thaddeus Cohen's home
number.

All he said was. "The twenty-five thousand dollars has turned out to be
a wise investment, Thaddeus.  Now let us be sure that there is no
honeyriaoon period for Mr.  Rosnovski.

But don't do anything until he makes his trip to Turkey." William placed
the phone back on the hook and went to bed.

He was disappointed that Richard Nixon had failed to beat Kennedy and
that his distant cousin Henry Cabot Lodge would not be the
Vice-President but it is an ill wind ...

When Abel received his invitation to be a guest at one of President
Kennedy's inauguration balls in Washington, D.C., there was only one
person he wanted to share the honour with.  He talked the idea over with
George and had to agree that Florentyna would never be willing to
accompany him unless she was convinced that the feud with Richard's
father could be finally resolved.  So he knew he would have to go alone.

In order to be in Washington to attend the celebrations, Abel had had to
postpone his latest trip to Europe and the Middle East for a few days.
He could not afford to miss the inauguration, whereas he could always
put back the date for the opening of the Istanbul Baron.

Abel had a new, rather conservative dark blue suit made specially for
the occasion, and took over the Presidential Suite at the Washington
Baron for the day of the inauguration.  He enjoyed watching the vital
young President deliver his inaugural speech, full of hope and promise
for the future.

"A new generation of Americans, born in this century' Abel only just
qualified -'tempered by war' - Abel certainly qualified - "disciplined
by a hard and bitter peace' - Abel made it again.. "Ask not what your
country can do for you.

Ask what you can do for your country."

The crowd rose to a man and everyone ignored the snow that had,failed to
dampen the impact of John F.

Kennedy's brilliant oratory.

Abel returned to the Washington Baron exhilarated.  He showered before
changing for dinner into white tie and tails, also made especially for
the occasion.  When he studied his ample frame in the mirror, Abel had
to admit to himself that he was not the last word in sartorial elegance.
His tailor had done the best he could in the circumstances and did not
complain that he had had to make three new and ever larger evening suits
for Abel in the past three years.  Florentyna would have chastised him
for those unnecessary inches, as she used to call them, and for her he
would have done something about it.  Why did his thoughts always return
to Florentyna?  He checked his medals.  First The Polish Veterans'
Medal, next the decorations for his service in the desert and in Europe,
and then his cutlery medals, as Abel called them, for distinguished
service with knives and forks.

In all, seven inaugural balls were held in Washington that evening, and
Abel's invitation directed him to the D.C.

Armoury.  He was placed at a table of Polish Democrats from New York and
Chicago.  They had a lot to celebrate.

Edmund Muskie was in the Senate and ten more Polish Democrats had been
elected to Congress.  No one mentioned the two newly elected Polish
Republicans.  Abel spent a happy evening with two old friends, who along
with him were founding members of the Polish-American Congress.  They
both asked after Florentyna.

The dinner was interrupted by the entrance of John F.  Kennedy and his
beautiful wife, Jacqueline.  They stayed about fifteen minutes, chatted
with a few carefully selected people and then moved on.  Although Abel
didn't actually speak to the President, despite leaving his table and
placing himself strategically in his path, he did manage to have a word
with Vincent Hogan as he was leaving with the Kennedy entourage.

"Mr.  Rosnovski, what a fortuitous meeting."

Abel would like to have explained to the boy that with him nothing was
fortuitous, but now was neither the time nor the place.  Hogan took
Abel's arm and guided him quickly behind a large marble pillar.

"I can't say too much at the moment, Mr.  Rosnovski, as I must stick
with the President, but I think you can expect a call from us in the
near future.  Naturally, the President has rather a lot of appointments
to deal with at the moment.. "Naturally," said Abel.

"But I am hoping," continued Vincent Hogan, "that in your case
everything will be confirmed by late March or early April. May I be the
first to offer my congratulations, Mr.  Rosnovski?  I am confident you
will serve the President well."

Abel watched Vincent Hogan literally run off to be sure he caught up
with the Kennedy party, who were already climbing into a fleet of
open-doored limousines.

"You look pleased with yourself," said one of his Polish friends as Abel
returned to his table and sat down to attack a tough steak, which would
not have been allowed inside a Baron.. "Did Kennedy invite you to be his
new Secretary of State?"

They all laughed.

"Not yet," said Abel.. "But he did tell me the accommodation in the
White House was not in the same class as the Baron."

Abel flew back to New York the next morning after first visiting the
Polish Chapel of Our Lady of Czestochowa in the National Shrine.  It
made him think of both Florentynas.  Washington National airport was
chaos and Abel eventually arrived at the New York Baron three hours
later than planned.  George joined him for dinner, and knew that all had
gone well when Abel ordered a magnum of Dom Perignon.

"Tonight we celebrate," said Abel.. "I saw Hogan at the ball and my
appointment will be confirmed in the next few weeks.  The official
announcement will be made soon after I return from the Middle East."

"Congratulations, Abel.  I know of no one who deserves the honour more."

"Thank you, George.  I can assure you that your reward will not be in
heaven, because when it's all official, I'm going to appoint you acting
president of the Baron Group in my absence."

George drank another glass of champagne.  They were already halfway
through the bottle.

"How long do you think you'll be away this time, Abel?"

"Only three weeks.  I want to check that those Arabs aret robbing me
blind and then go on to Turkey to open the Istanbul Baron.  I think I'll
take in London and Paris on the way." George poured some more champagne.

Abel had to spend three more days in London than he had originally
anticipated, trying to sort out the hotel's problems, with a manager who
kept blaming everything on the British unions.  The London Baron had
turned out to be one of Abel's few failures, although he never could put
his finger on why the hotel continually lost money.  He would have
considered closing it, but the Baron Group had to have a presence in
England's capital city, so once again he fired the manager and made a
new appointment.

Paris presented a striking contrast.  The hotel was one of his most
successful in Europe, and he'd once admitted to Florentyna, as
reluctantly as a parent admits to having a favourite child, that the
Paris Baron was his favourite hotel.

Abel found everything on the Boulevard Raspail well organised and spent
only two days in Paris before flying on to the Middle East.

Abel now had sites in five of the Persian Gulf States, but only the
Riyadh Baron had actually started construction.

If he'd been a younger man, Abel would have stayed in the Middle East
for a couple of years himself and sorted the Arabs out.  But he couldn't
abide the sand, the heat, and never being certain when he could order a
whisky.  He thought he must be getting older, because he couldn't stand
the natives either.  He left them to one of his young assistant
vice-presidents, who had been told that he would only be allowed to
return and manage the infidels in America once Abel was sure he had
proved a success with the holy and blessed ones from the Middle East.

He left the poor assistant vice-president in the richest private hell in
the world and flew on to Turkey.

Abel had visited Turkey several times during the past few years to watch
the progress of the Istanbul Baron.  For Abel, there would always be
something special about

Constantinople, as he remembered the city.  He was looking forward to
opening a Baron in the country he had left to start a new life in
America.

While he was unpacking his suitcase in yet another Presidential Suite,
Abel found fifteen invitations awaiting his reply.  There were always
several invitations about the time of a hotel opening; a galaxy of
freeloaders who wanted to be invited to any opening night party appeared
on the scene as if by magic.  On this occasion, however, two of the
dinner invitations came as an agreeable surprise to Abel from men who
certainly could not be classified as freeloaders : namely the
ambassadors of America and Britain.  The invitation to the old British
embassy was particularly irresistible as he had not been inside the
building for nearly forty years.

That evening, Abel dined as the guest of Sir Bernard Burrows, Her
Majesty's Ambassador to Turkey.  To his surprise he found that he had
been placed at the right of the ambassador's wife, a privilege Abel had
never been afforded in any other embassy in the past.  When the dinner
was over, he observed the quaint English tradition of the ladies leaving
the room while the gentlemen sat alone to smoke cigars and drink port or
brandy.  Abel was invited to join the American ambassador, Fletcher
Warren, for port in Sir Bernard's study.  Sir Bernard was taking the
American ambassador to task for allowing him to have the Chicago Baron
to dinner before he had.

"The British have always been a presumptuous race," said the American
ambassador, lighting a large Cuban cigar.

"I'll say one thing for the Americans," said Sir Bernard.. "They don't
know when they're fairly beaten."

Abel listened to the two diplomats' banter, wondering why he had been
included in such a private gathering.  Sir Bernard offered Abel some
vintage port, and the American ambassador raised his glass.

"To Abel Rosnovski,"he said.

Sir Bernard also raised his glass.. "I understand that congratulations
are in order," he said.

Abel reddened and looked hastily towards Fletcher Warren, hoping he
would help him out.

"Oh, have I let the cat out of the bag, Fletcher?" said Sir Bernard,
turning to the American ambassador.. "You told me the appointment was
common knowledge, old chap."

"Fairly common," said Fletcher Warren.. "Not that the British could ever
keep a secret for very long."

"Is that why your lot took such a devil of a time to discover we were at
war with Germany?" replied Sir Bernard.

',knd then mavea in to make- sure of the victory?"

"And the glory,"said Sir Bernard.

The American ambassador laughed.. "I'm told the official announcement
will be made in the next few days." Both men looked at Abel, who
remained silent.

"Well, then may I be the first to congratulate you, Your Excellency,"
said Sir Bernard.. "I wish you every happiness in your new appointment."

Abel flushed to hear aloud the appellation he had whispered so often to
his shaving mirror during the past few months.. "You'll have to get used
to being called Your Excellency, you know," continued the British
ambassador, "and a whole lot of worse things than that, particularly all
these damned functions you'll be made to attend one after another.  If
you have a weight problem now, it will be nothing compared to the one
you'll have when you finish your term of office.  You may yet live to be
grateful for the Cold War.  It's the one thing that might keep your
social life within bounds."

The American ambassador smiled.. "Well done, Abel, and may I add my best
wishes for your continued success.

When were you last in Poland?" he enquired.

"I've only been back home once for, a short visit a few years ago," said
Abel.. "I've wanted to return ever since.. "Well, you will be returning
in triumph," said Fletcher Warren.. "Are you familiar with our embassy
in Warsaw?"

"No, I'm not,"admitted Abel.

"Not a bad building," said Sir Bernard.. "Remembering you colonials
couldn't get a foothold in Europe until after the I Second World War.
But the food is appalling.  I shall expect you to do something about
that, Mr.  Rosnovski.  I'm afraid the only thing for it is that you'll
have to build a Baron Hotel in Warsaw.  As ambassador, that's the least
they'll expect from an old Pole."

Abel sat in a state of euphoria, laughing and enjoying Sir Bernard's
feeble jokes.  He found he was drinking a little more port than usual
and felt at ease with himself and the world.  He couldn't wait to return
to America and tell Florentyna his news, now that the appointment seemed
to be official.  She would be so proud of him.  He decided then and
there that the moment he arrived back in New York he would go straight
to San Francisco and make everything up with her.  It was what he had
wanted to do all along and now he had an excuse.  Somehow he'd force
himself to like the Kane boy.  He must stop referring to him as "the
Kane boy.  What was his name - Richard?  Yes, Richard.

Abel felt a sudden rush of relief at having made the decision.

After the three men had returned to the main reception room and the
ladies, Abel reached up and touched the British ambassador on the
shoulder.. "I should be getting back, Your Excellency."

"Back to the Baron," said Sir Bernard.. "Allow me to accompany you to
your car, my dear fellow."

The ambassador's wife bade him goodnight at the door.

"Goodnight, Lady Burrows, and thank you for a memorable evening."

She smiled.. "I know I'm not meant to know, Mr.  Rosnovski, but many
congratulations on your appointment.  You must be so proud to be
returning to the land of your birth as your country's senior
representative."

"I am,"replied Abel simply.

Sir Bernard accompanied him down the marble steps of the British embassy
to the waiting car.  The chauffeur opened the door.

"Goodnight, Rosnovski," said Sir Bernard, "and good luck in Warsaw.  By
the way, I hope you enjoyed your first meal in the British embassy."

"My second actually, Sir Bernard."

"You've been before, old boy?  When we checked through the guest book we
couldn't find your name."

"No," said Abel.. "Last time I had dinner in the British e'mbassy, I ate
in the kitchen.  I don't think they keep a guest book down there, but
the meal was the best I'd had in years." Abel smiled as he climbed into
the back of the car.  He could see that Sir Bernard wasn't sure whether
to believe him or not.  As Abel was driven back to the Baron, his
fingers tapped on the side windows, and he hummed to himself.  He would
have liked to have returned to America the next morning, but he couldn't
cancel the invitation to dine with Fletcher Warren at the American
embassy the following evening.  Hardly the sort of thing a fnture
ambassador does, old fellow, he could hear Sir Bernard saying.

Dinner with the American ambassador turned out to be another pleasant
occasion.  Abel was made to explain to the assembled guests how he had
come to eat in the kitchens of the British embassy.  When he told them
the truth, they looked on in surprised admiration.  He wasn't sure if
many of them believed the story of how he nearly lost his hand, but they
all admired the silver band, and that night, everyone called him'Your
Excellency.

The next day, Abel was up early, ready for his flight to America.  The
D.C.8 flew into Belgrade, where he was grounded for sixteen hours,
waiting for the plane to be serviced.  Something wrong with the landing
gear, they told him.  He sat in the airport lounge, sipping undrinkable
Yugoslavian coffee.  The contrast between the British embassy and the
snack bar in a communist-controlled country was not entirely lost on
Abel.  At last the plane took off, only to be delayed again in
Amsterdam.  This time they made him change planes.

When he finally arrived at Idlewild, Abel had been travelling for nearly
thirty-six hours.  He was so tired he could hardly walk.  As he left the
customs area, he suddenly found himself surrounded by newsmen, and the
cameras started flashing and clicking.  Immediately he smiled.  The
announcement must have been made, he thought.  Now it's official.  He
stood as straight as he could and walked slowly and with dignity,
disguising his limp.  There was no sign of George, as the cameramen
jostled each other unceremoniously to be sure of a picture.

Then he saw George standing at the edge of the crowd, looking like
death.  Abel's heart lurched as he passed the barrier and a journalist,
far from asking him what it felt like to be the first Polish-American to
be appointed ambassador to Warsaw, shouted. "Do you have any answers to
the charges ?"

The cameras went on flashing and so did the questions.

"Are the accusations true, Mr.  Rosnovski?"

"How much did you actually pay Congressman Osborne?"

"Do you deny the charges?"

"Have you returned to America to face trial?" They wrote down Abel's
replies although he never spoke.. "Get me out of here," shouted Abel
above the crowd.  George squeezed forward and managed to reach Abel and
then pushed his way back through the crowd and bundled him into the
waiting Cadillac.  Abel bent down and hid his head in his hands, as the
cameras' flashbulbs kept popping, and George shouted at the chauffeur to
get moving.

"To the Baron, sir ?" he asked.

"No, to Miss Rosnovski's flat on Fifty-seventh Street.. "Why?" said
Abel.

"Because the press is crawling all over the Baron."

"I don't understand," said Abel.. "In Istanbul they treat me as if I was
the ambassador's elect, and I return home to find I'm a criminal.  What
the hell is going on, George?"

"Do you want to hear it all from me, or wait until you've seen your
lawyer?" asked George.

"Who have you got to represent me?" asked Abel.

"H.  Trafford jilks, the best defence attorney in America.. "And the
most expensive."

"I didn't think you would be worrying about money at a time like this,
Abel."

"You're right, George.  I'm sorry.  Where is he now?"

"I left him at the courthouse, but he said he'd come to the flat as soon
as he was through."

"I can't wait that long, George.  For God's sake put me in the picture.
Tell me the worst."

George drew a deep breath.. "There's a warrant out for your arrest," he
said.

"What the hell's the charge?"

"Bribery of government officials."

"I've never been directly involved with a government official in my
whole life," protested Abel.

"I know, but it turns out that Henry Osborne has been all along, and
everything he did seems to have been in your name or on your behalf."

"Oh my God," said Abel.. "I should never have employed the man.  I let
the fact that we both hated Kane cloud my judgment.  But I still find it
hard to believe Henry has given anyone the dirt, because he would only
end up implicating himself.. "But Henry has disappeared," said George,
'and suddenly, mysteriously, all his debts have been cleared up."
"William Kane," said Abel, hissing the words out.

"We've found nothing that points in that direction," said George.
"There's no proof he's involved in this at all."

"Who needs proof ?  You tell me how the authorities got hold of all the
details."

"We do know that much," said George.. "It seems an anonymous package
containing a file was sent direct to the justice Department in
Washington."

"Postmarked New York, no doubt,"said Abel.

"No.  Chicago."

Abel was silent for a few moments.. "It couldn't have been Henry who
sent the evidence to them," he said finally.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"How can you be so sure?" asked George.

"Because you said all his debts have been cleared up, and the Justice
Department wouldn't pay out that sort of money unless they thought they
were going to catch Al Capone.

Henry must have sold his file to someone else.  But who?  The one thing
we can be certain of is that he would never have released any
information directly to Kane."

"Directly?" said George.

"Directly," repeated Abel.. "Perhaps he didn't sell it directly.  Kane
could have arranged for an intermediary to deal with the whole thing if
he already knew that Henry was heavily in debt, and the bookmakers were
threatening him."

"That might be right, Abel, and it certainly wouldn't have taken an ace
detective to discover the extent of Henry's financial problems.  They
were common knowledge to anyone sitting on a bar stool in Chicago, but
don't jump to hasty conclusions just yet.  Let's find out what your
lawyer has to say."

The Cadillac came to a halt outside Florentyna's former home, which Abel
had retained and kept spotless in the hope that his daughter would one
day return.  George opened the door, and they walked through to join H.
Trafford jilks.  Once they had settled down, George poured Abel a large
whisky.  He drank the malt in one gulp, and gave the empty glass back to
George who re-filled it.

"Tell me the worst, Mr.  jilks.  Let's get it over with."

"I am sorry, Mr.  Rosnovski," he began.. "Mr.  Novak told me about
Warsaw."

"That's all over now, so we may as well forget "Your Excellency".  You
can be sure if Vincent Hogan were asked, he wouldn't even remember my
name.  Come on, Mr.  jilks, what am I facing?"

"You've been indicted on seventeen charges of bribery and corruption of
officials in fourteen different states.

I've made provisional arrangements with the justice Department for you
to be arrested here at the flat tomorrow morning, and they will make no
objection to bail being granted."

"Very cosy," said Abel, "but what if they can prove the charges?"

"Oh, they should be able to prove some of the charges," said H. Trafford
jilks matter of factly, "but as long as Henry Osborne stays tucked away,
they're going to find it very difficult to nail you on most of them. But
you're going to have to live with the fact, Mr.  Rosnovski, that most of
the real damage has already been done whether you're convicted or not."

"I can see that only too well," said Abel, glancing across at a picture
of himself on the front page of the Daily News.. "So you find out, Mr.
jilks, who the hell bought that file from Henry Osborne.  Put as many
people to work on the case as you need.  I don't care about the cost.
But you find out and find out quickly, because if it turns out to be
William Kane, I'm going to finish that man off once and for all."

"Don't get yourself into any more trouble than you are already," said H.
Trafford jilks.. "You're knee deep in as it is.. "Don't worry," said
Abel.. "When I finish Kane, it'll be legal and way above board."

"Now listen carefully, Mr.  Rosnovski.  You forget about William Kane
for the time being and start worrying about your impending trial,
because it will be the most important event ever to take place in your
life unless you don't mind spending the next ten years in jail.  Now
there's not much more we can do tonight, so go to bed and catch some
sleep.

In the meantime, I'll issue a short press statement denying the charges
and saying that we have a full explanation which will exonerate you
completely."

"Do we?" asked George hopefully.

"No," said jilks, "but it will give me some much needed time to think.
When Mr.  Rosnovski has had a chance to check through that file of
names, it wouldn't surprise me to discover that he's never had direct
contact with any of them.  It's possible that Henry Osborne always acted
as an intermediary without ever putting Mr.  Rosnovski fully in the
picture.  Then my job will be to prove that Osborne exceeded his
authority as a director of the group.  Mind you, Mr.  Rosnovski, if you
did meet any of the people mentioned in that file, for God's sake let me
know, because you can be sure the Justice Department will put them on
the stand as witnesses to testify against us.  But we'll start worrying
about that tomorrow.  You go to bed and get some sleep.  You must be
exhausted after your trip.  I will see you first thing in the morning."

Abel was arrested quietly in his daughter's apartment at eight thirty
a.m.  and driven away by a U.S.  marshal to the Federal District Court
for the Southern District of New York.  The brightly coloured St.
Valentine's Day decorations in store windows heightened Abel's sense of
loneliness.  jilks had hoped that his arrangements had been so discreet
that the press would not have picked them up, but when Abel reached the
courthouse, he was once again surrounded by photographers and reporters.
He ran the gauntlet into the courtroom with George in front of him and
Mr.  jilks behind.

They sat silently in an anteroom waiting for their case to be called.

When they were called, the indictment hearing lasted only a few minutes
and was a strange anti-climax.  The clerk read the charges, H.  Trafford
jilks answered. "Not Guilty' to each one on behalf of his client and
requested bail.  The government, as agreed, made no objection.  jilks
asked judge Prescott for at least three months to prepare his defence.

The judge set a trial date of 17 May and, seemingly uninterested, moved
on to the next case.

Abel was free again, free to face the press and more flashing bulbs of
their cameras.  George had the car waiting for him at the bottom of the
steps with the door open.  The engine was already running and Abel's
chauffeur had to do some very skilful driving to free himself from the
determined reporters who were still pursuing their story.  He did not
head back to the flat on East Fifty-seventh Street until he was certain
he had shaken them all off.  Abel said nothing during the entire chase.
When they reached their destination, he turned to George and put his arm
on his shoulder.

"Now listen, George, you're going to have to run the group for at least
three months while I get my defence sorted out with Mr.  jilks.  Let's
hope you don't have to run it alone after that," said Abel, trying to
laugh.

"Of course I won't have to, Abel, Mr.  jilks will get you off, you'll
see." George picked up his briefcase and touched Abel on the arm. "Keep
smiling," he said and left.

"I don't know what I'd do without George," Abel told his lawyer as they
settled down in the front room.. "We came over on the boat together
nearly forty years ago, and we've been through a hell of a lot since
then.  Now it looks as if there's a whole lot more ahead of us, so let's
get on with it, Mr.  jilks.  Any sign of Henry Osborne yet?"

"No ' but I have six men working on it, and I understand the justice
Department have at least another six so we can be pretty sure he'll turn
up, not that we want them to find him first."

"What about the man Osborne sold the file to?" asked Abel.

"I have some people I trust in Chicago detailed to run that down."

"Good," said Abel.. "Now the time has come to go over that file of names
you left with me last night."

Trafford jilks began by reading the indictment and then he went over
each of the charges in detail with Abel.

After nearly three weeks of constant meetings, when jilks was finally
convinced there was nothing else Abel could tell him, he left his client
to rest.  The three weeks had failed to turn up any leads as to the
whereabouts of Henry Osborne, either from Trafford jilks' men or the
justice Department.  jilks' men had also had no breakthrough on finding
the person to whom Henry had sold his information and were beginning to
wonder if Abel had guessed right.

As the trial date drew nearer, Abel started to face the possibility of
actually going to jail.  He was now fifty-five and afraid and ashamed at
the prospect of spending the last few years of his life the same way as
he had spent the first few.  As H.  Trafford jilks had pointed out, if
the government could prove they had a case, there was enough in
Osborne's file to send him to the pen for a very long time.  The
injustice - as it seemed to him - of his predicament angered Abel.  The
malfeasances that Henry Osborne had committed in his name had been
substantial but not exceptional; Abel doubted that any new business
could have grown or any new money made without the sort of handouts and
bribes documented with sickening accuracy in Trafford jilks' file.  He
thought bitterly of the smooth, impassive face of the young William
Kane, sitting in his Boston office all those years ago on a pile of
inherited money whose probably disreputable origins were safely buried
under generations of respectability.  Then Florentyna wrote, a touching
letter enclosing some photographs of her son, saying that she still
loved a nd respected Abel, and believed in his innocence.

Three days before the trial was due to open, the justice Department
found Henry Osborne in New Orleans.  They undoubtedly would have missed
him completely if he hadn't ended up in a local hospital with two broken
legs.  A zealous policeman discovered Henry had received his injuries
for welching on gambling debts.  They don't like that in New Orleans.
The policeman put two and two together and later that night, after the
hospital had put plaster casts on both Osborne's legs, the justice
Department wheeled him on an Eastern Airlines flight to New York.

Henry Osborne was charged the next day with conspiracy to defraud, and
he was denied bail.  H.  Trafford jilks asked the court's permission to
be allowed to question him.  The court granted his request, but jilks
gained very little satisfaction from the interview.  It became obvious
that Osborne had already made his deal with the government, promising to
turn state's evidence against Abel in return for lesser charges against
him.

"No doubt Mr.  Osborne will find the charges against him are
surprisingly minor," commented the lawyer drily.

"So that's his game," said Abel.. "I take the rap while he escapes.  Now
we'll never find out who he sold that goddamn file to."

"No, there you are wrong, Mr.  Rosnovski.  That was the one thing he was
willing to talk about," said jilks.. "He said it wasn't William Kane. He
would never have sold the file to Kane under any circumstances.  A man
from Chicago called Harry Smith paid Mr.  Osborne cash for the evidence,
and, would you believe it, Harry Smith turns out to be an alias because
there are dozens of Harry Smiths in the Chicago area and not a single
one of them fits the description.. "Find him," said Abel.. "And find him
before the trial starts.. "We're already working on that," said jilks.
"If the man is still in Chicago we'll pin him down within the week.
Osborne also added that this so-called Smith assured him he only wanted
the file for private purposes.  He had no intention of revealing the
contents to anyone in authority."

"Then why did "Smith" want the details in the first place?" asked Abel.

"The inference was blackmail.  That's why Henry Osborne disappeared, to
avoid you.  If you think about that, Mr. Rosnovski, he could be telling
the truth.  After all, the disclosures are extremely damaging to him,
and he must have been as distressed as you when he heard the file was in
the hands of the justice Department.  It's no wonder he decided to stay
out of sight and turned state's evidence when he was eventually caught."

"Do you know," said Abel, "the only reason I ever employed that man was
because he hated William Kane as much as I did, and now Kane has done us
both."

"There's no proof that Mr.  Kane was in any way involved," said jilks.

"I don't need proof."

The trial was delayed at the request of the government.  They claimed
they needed more time to question Henry Osborne before presenting their
case, as he was now their principal witness.  Trafford jilks objected
strongly and informed the court that the health of his client, who was
no longer a young man, was failing under the strain of false
accusations.  The plea did not move judge Prescott, who agreed to the
government's request and postponed the trial for a further four weeks.

The month dragged on for Abel and two days before the trial was due to
open, he resigned himself to being found guilty and facing a long jail
sentence.  Then H.  Trafford jilks' investigator in Chicago found the
man called Harry Smith, who turned out to be a local private detective,
who had used an alias under strict instructions from his client, a firm
of lawyers in New York.  It cost jilks one thousand dollars and another
twenty-four hours before Harry Smith revealed that the firm concerned
had been Cohen, Cohen and Yablons.

"Kane's lawyer," said Abel immediately on being told.

"Are you sure?" asked jilks.. "I would have thought from all we know
about William Kane that he would be the last person to use a Jewish
firm."

"Way back, when I bought the hotels from Kane's bank, some of the
paperwork was covered by a man called Thomas Cohen.  For some reason,
the bank used two lawyers for the transaction."

"What do you want me to do about it?" George asked Abel.

"Nothing," said Trafford jilks.. "I don't want any more trouble before
the trial.  Do you understand me, Mr.  Rosnovski?"

"Yes, sir," said Abel.. "I'll deal with Kane when the trial's over. Now,
Mr.  jilks, listen and listen carefully.  You must go back to Osborne
immediately and tell him the file was sold by Harry Smith to William
Kane, and that Kane used the contents to gain revenge on both of us, and
stress the "both of us".  I promise you when Osborne hears that, he's
not going to open his mouth in the witness box, no matter what promises
he's made to the justice Department.

Henry Osborne's the one man alive who may hate Kane more than I do."

"Anything you say," said jilks, who clearly wasn't convinced, "but I
feel I must warn you, Mr.  Rosnovski, he's still putting the blame
firmly on your shoulders, and to date he's been no help to our side at
all."

"You take my word for this, Mr.  jilks.  His attitude will change the
moment he knows about Kane's involvement."

H.Trafford jilks obtained permission to spend ten minutes that night
with Henry Osborne in his cell before going on home.  Osborne listened
but said nothing.  jilks was sure that his news had made no impression
on the govemment's star witness and he decided he would wait until the
next morning before telling Abel Rosnovski.  He preferred that his
client try to get a good night's sleep before the trial opened the next
morning.

Four hours before the trial was due to start, Henry Osborne was found
hanging in his cell by the guard bringing in his breakfast.  He'd used a
Harvard tie.

The trial opened for the government without their star witness and they
appealed for a further extension.  After hearing another impassioned
plea by H.  Trafford jilks on the state of his client's health, judge
Prescott refused their request.

The public followed every word of th. "Chicago Baron Trial' on
television and in the newspapers and to Abel's horror, Zaphia sat in the
public gallery seeming to enjoy every moment of his discomfort.  After
nine days in court, the prosecution knew that their case was not
standing up too well and offered to make a deal with H.  Trafford jilks.

During an adjournment, jilks briefed Abel on their offer.

"They will drop all the main indictments of bribery if you will plead
guilty to the misdemeanours on two of the minor counts of attempting to
improperly influence a public official."

"What do you estimate are my chances of getting off completely if I turn
them down?"

"Fifty-fifty, I would say," said jilks.

"And if I don't get off ?"

"Judge Prescott is tough.  The sentence wouldn't be a day under six
years."

"And if I agree to the deal and plead guilty to the two minor charges,
what then?"

"A heavy fine.  I would be surprised if it came to anything more than
that," said jilks.

Abel sat and considered the alternatives for a few moments.

"I'll plead guilty.  Let's get the damn thing over with." The government
lawyers informed the judge that they were dropping fifteen of the
charges against Abel Rosnovski.

H.  Trafford jilks rose from his place and told the court that his
client wished to change his plea to guilty on the two remaining
misdemeanour charges.  The jury was dismissed and judge Prescott was
very hard on Abel in his summingup, reminding him that the right to do
business did not include the right to suborn public officials.  Bribery
was a crime and a worse crime when condoned by an intelligent and
competent man, who should not need to stoop to such levels.  In other
countries, the judge added pointedly, making Abel feel like a raw
immigrant once again, bribery might be an accepted way of going about
one's daily life, but that was not the case in the United States of
America.  judge Prescott gave Abel a six months' suspended sentence and
a twenty-five thousand dollar fine plus costs.

George took Abel back to the Baron and they sat in the penthouse
drinking whisky for over an hour before Abel spoke.

"George, I want you to contact Peter Parfitt and pay him the one million
dollars he asked for his two percent of Lester's, because once I have my
hands on eight percent of that bank I am going to invoke Article Seven
of their bylaws and kill William Kane in his own board room." George
nodded sadly in agreement.

A few days later the State Department announced that Poland had been
granted most favoured nation status in foreign trade with the United
States, and that the next American ambassador to Warsaw would be John
Moors Cabot.

On a bitter February evening, William sat back and re-read Thaddeus
Cohen's report.  Henry Osborne had released all the information he had
needed to finish Abel Rosnovski and

had taken his twenty-five thousand dollars and disappeared.  Very much
in character, thought William as He replaced the well-worn copy of the
Rosnovski file back in his safe.  The original had been sent to the
justice Department in Washington D.C.  some days before by Thaddeus
Cohen.

When Abel Rosnovski had returned from Turkey and was subsequently
arrested, William had waited for him to retaliate, expecting him to dump
all his Interstate stock on the market immediately.  This time, William
was prepared.

He had already warned his broker that Interstate might come on to the
open market in large amounts with little warning.  His instructions were
clear.  They were to be bought immediately so that the price did not
drop.  He was prepared to put up the money from his trust as a
short-term measure, to avoid any unpleasantness at the bank.  William
had also circulated a memo among all the stockholders of Lester's asking
them not to sell any Interstate stock without consulting him.

As the weeks passed and Abel Rosnovski made no move, William began to
believe that Thaddeus Cohen had been correct in assuming that nothing
had been traceable back to him.  Rosnovski must surely be placing the
blame firmly on Henry Osborne's shoulders.

Thaddeus Cohen was certain that with Osborne's evidence, Abel Rosnovski
would end up behind bars for a very long time, which would prevent him
from ever finding it possible to invoke Article Seven and be a threat to
the bank or William Kane.  William hoped that the verdict might also
make Richard come to his senses and return home.

Surely these latest revelations about that family could only make him
detest the Rosnovski girl and realise that his father had been right all
along.

William would have welcomed Richard back.  There was now a gap on the
board of Lester's created by the retirement of Tony Simmons and the
death of Ted Leach.  Richard would have to return to New York before
William's sixtyfifth birthday in ten years, or it would be the first
time in over a century that a Kane had not sat in a bank's board room.
Cohen had reported that Richard had made a series of brilliant takeover
bids for shops that Florentyna needed but surely the opportunity to
become the next chairman of Lester's Bank would mean more to Richard
than living with that Rosnovski girl.

Another factor that worried William was that he did not care too much
for the new breed of directors now working at the bank.  Jake Thomas,
the new vice-chairman was the firm favourite to succeed him as chairman.
He might have been educated at Princeton and graduated Phi Beta Kappa,
but he was flashy - too flashy - thought William and far too ambitious,
not at all the right sort to be the next chairman of Lester's.  He would
have to hang on until his sixtyfifth birthday and try to convince
Richard that he should join Lester's before then.  William was only too
aware that Kate would have had Richard back on any terms, but as the
years passed, he had found it harder to give way to his better judgment.
Thank heaven Virginia's marriage was going well, and now she was
pregnant.  If Richard refused to return home and give up that Rosnovski
girl, he could still leave everything to Virginia - if only she produced
a grandson.

William was at his desk in the bank when he had his first heart. attack.
Not a very serious one.  The doctors told him he should rest a little
and he would still live another twenty years.  He told his doctor,
another bright young man  how he missed Andrew MacKenzie - that he only
wanted to survive for ten years to see out his term of office as
chairman of the bank.

For the few weeks that he had to convalesce at home, William reluctantly
allowed Jake Thomas the overall responsibility for the bank's decisions,
but as soon as he returned, he quickly re-established his position as
chairman for fear that Thomas might have taken on too much authority in
his absence.  From time to time, Kate plucked up the courage to beg him
to let her make some direct approach to Richard, but William remained
obstinate, saying. "The boy knows he can come home whenever he wants to.

All he has to do is end his relationship with that scheming girl."

The day Henry Osborne killed himself, William had a second heart attack.
Kate sat by his bedside all through the night, fearing he would die, but
Abel Rosnovski's trial kept him alive.  William followed the trial
devoutly every day, and he knew Osborne's suicide could only put
Rosnovski in a far stronger position.  When Rosnovski was finally
released with nothing more than a six month's suspended sentence and a
twenty-five thousand dollar fine, the lightness of the penalty did not
come as a surprise to William.  It wasn't hard to figure out that the
government must have agreed to a deal with Rosnovski's brilliant lawyer.

William was, however, surprised to find himself feeling slightly guilty
and somewhat relieved that Abel Rosnovski had not been sent to prison.

Once the trial was over William didn't care if Rosnovski dumped his
Interstate Airways stock or not.  He was still ready for him.  But
nothing happened, and as the weeks passed, William began to lose
interest in the Chicago Baron and could only think of Richard, whom he
now desperately wanted to see again.. "Old age and fear of death allows
for sudden changes of the heart," he had once read.  One morning in
September, he informed Kate of his wish.  She didn't ask why he had
changed his mind; it was enough for her that William wanted to see his
only son.

"I'll call Richard in San Francisco immediately and invite them both,"
she told him, and was pleasantly surprised that the word "both' didn't
seem to shock her husband.

"That will be fine," said William quietly.. "Please tell Richard that I
want to see him again before I die."

"Don't be silly, darling.  The doctor said that if you take it easy
you'll live for another twenty years.".

"I only want to complete my term as chairman at the bank and see Richard
take my place on the board.  That will be enough.  Why don't you fly to
the coast again and tell Richard of my request, Kate?"

"What do you mean, again?" asked Kate nervously.

William smiled.. "I know you've been to San Francisco several times
already, my darling.  For the last few years whenever I go away on a
business trip, you've always used the excuse to visit your mother, but
when she died last year, your excuses became increasingly improbable.
We've been married for twenty-eight years and by now I think I'm aware
of all your habits.  You're still as lovely as the day I met you, my
darling, but I do believe that at fifty-four you're unlikely to have a
lover.  So it wasn't all that hard for me to work out that you had been
visiting Richard."

"Yes, I have been seeing him." said Kate.. "Why didn't you mention that
you knew before?"

"In my heart I was glad," said William.. "I hated the thought of his
losing contact with us both.  How is he?"

"Both of them are well, and you have a granddaughter now as well as a
grandson."

"A granddaughter as well as a grandson," William repeated.

"Yes, she's called Annabel," said Kate.

"And my grandson?" said William, enquiring for the first time.

When Kate told him his name he had to smile.  It was only half a lie.

"Good," said William.. "Well, you fly to San Francisco and see what can
be done.  Tell him I love him.!  He had once heard another old man say
that who was going to lose his son.

Kate was more content that night than she had been in years.  She called
Richard to say she would be flying out to stay with them the following
week, bringing good news with her.

When Kate returned to New York three weeks later, William was pleased to
learn that Richard and Florentyna could visit them at the end of
November, which was the first opportunity for them to get away from San
Francisco together.  Kate was full of stories of how successful they
both were, how young William Kane was the image of his grandfather and
how they were all so much looking forward to coming back to New York for
a visit, William listened intently and found he was happy too, and at
peace with himself.  He had begun to fear that if Richard did not return
home soon, he never would, and then the chairmanship of the bank would
fall into Jake Thomas's lap.  William did not care to think about that.

William returned to work the following Monday in high spirits after his
lengthy absence, having made a good recovery from his second heart
attack and now feeling he had something worth living for.

"You must pace yourself a little more carefully," the clever young
doctor had told him, but he was determined to reestablish himself as
chairman and president of the bank so he could make way for his only
son.  On his arrival at the bank he was greeted by the doorman, who told
him that Jake Thomas was looking for him and had tried to reach him at
home earlier.  William thanked the senior member of the bank, the only
person who had served Lester's more years than the chairman himself.

"Nothing's so important that it can't wait," he said.

"No, sir."

William walked slowly to the chain-nan's office.  When he opened his
door, he found three of his directors already in conference and Jake
Thomas sitting firmly in William's chair.

"Have I been away that long," said William, laughing.. "Am I no longer
chairman of the board?"

"Yes, of course you are.  Welcome back, William," said Jake Thomas,
moving quickly out of the Chairman's seat.

William had found it impossible to get used to Jake Thomas calling him
by his first name.  The new generation were all too familiar.  They had
only known each other a few years, and the man couldn't have been a day
over forty.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"Abel Rosnovski," said Jake Thomas without expression.

and William felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach sat down in
the nearest leater seat.

"What does he want this time?" he said wearily.. "Won't he let me finish
my days in peace?" Jake Thomas stood up and walked towards William.

"He intends to invoke Article Seven and hold a proxy meeting with the
sole purpose of removing you from the chair."   ecessary eight percent
"He can't.  He doesn't have the n and the bank's by-laws state clearly
that the chairman must be informed immediately if any outside person
comes into possession of eight percent of the stock."

"He says he'll have the eight percent by tomorrow mOM-ing."

"No, no," said William.. "I've kept a careful check on all the stock. No
one would sell to Rosnovski.  No one."

"Peter Parfitt," said Jake Thomas.

"No," said William smiling triumphantly.. "I bought his shares a year
ago through a third party."

Jake Thomas looked shocked, and no one spoke for sometime.  William
realised for the first time just how much Thomas wanted to be the next
chairman of Lester's.

"Well." said Jake Thomas.. "We must face the fact he claims he'll have
eight percent by tomorrow which would entitle him to elect three
directors to the board and hold up any major policy decision for three
months.  The very provisions you put into the articles of incorporation
to protect your long term position.  He also intends to announce his
decision in advertisements placed all across the country.  For good
measure, he's threatening to make a reverse takeover bid for Lester's
using the Baron Group as the vehicle if he receives any opposition to
his plans.  He has made it clear that there is only one way he will drop
the whole plan."

"What's that?" said William.    the bank,"

"If you submit your resignation as chairman of replied Jake Thomas.

"That's blackmail," said William, nearly shouting.

"Maybe, but if you do not resign by noon next Monday)

he intends to make his announcement to all shareholders.  He has already
booked space in forty newspapers and magazines."

"The man's gone mad," said William.  He took his handkerchief from
his'breast pocket and mopped his brow.

"That's not all he said," Jake Thomas added.. "He has also demanded that
no Kane replace you on the board during the next ten years and that your
resignation should not give ill health or, indeed, any reason for your
sudden departure." He held out a lengthy document bearin. "The Baron
Group's' letterhead.

"Mad," repeated William, when he had scanned the letter rapidly.

"Nevertheless, I've called a board meeting for tomorrow," said Jake
Thomas.. "At ten o'clock.  I think we should discuss his demands in
detail then, William."

The three directors left William alone in his office and no one visited
him during the day.  He sat at his desk trying to contact some of the
other directors but he only managed to have a word with one or two of
t'hem and couldn't feel certain of their support.  He reaiised the
meeting was going to be a close run thing but as long as no one else had
eight percent he was safe, and he began to prepare his strategy to
retain control of his own board room.  He checked the list of
stockholders : as far as he could tell, not one of them intended to
release his stock.  He laughed to himself.  Abel Rosnovski had failed
with his coup.  He went home early that night, only telling Kate to
cancel Richard's proposed visit, and then retired to his study to
consider his tactics for defeating Abel Rosnovski for the last time.  He
didn't go to bed until three a.m., but by then he had decided what had
to be done.  Jake Thomas must be removed from the board so that Richard
could take his place.

William arrived early for the board meeting the next morning and sat
waiting in his office looking over his notes, confident of victory.  He
felt his plan had taken everything into account.  At five to ten his
secretary buzzed.. "A Mr. Rosnovski is on the phone for you," she said.

"What?" said William. "Mr.  Rosnovski.. "Mr.  Rosnovski." William
repeated the name in disbelief.

"Put him through," he said, his voice quavering.

"Yes, sir.. "Mr.  Kane?" The slight accent that William could never
forget.. "Yes, what do you want this time?"

"Under the by-laws of the bank I have to inform you that I now own eight
percent of Lester's shares and intend to invoke Article Seven unless my
earlier demands are met by noon on Monday."

"How did you get the final two percent?" stammered William.  The phone
clicked.  He quickly studied the list of shareholders trying to work out
who had betrayed him.  William was still trembling when it rang again.

"The board meeting is just about to begin, sir." As ten o'clock struck
William entered the board room.  Looking round the table, he suddenly
realised how few of the younger directors he knew well.  Last time he'd
had a fight in this same room, he hadn't known any of the directors and
he'd won.  He smiled to himself, reasonably confident he could still
beat Abel Rosnovski, and rose to address the board.

"Gentlemen, this meeting, has been called because the bank has received
a demand from Mr.  Abel Rosnovski of the Baron Group; a convicted
criminal who has had the effrontery to issue a direct threat to me,
namely that he will use his eight percent holding in my bank to
embarrass us and if this tactic fails he will attempt a reverse takeover
bid, unless I resign from the presidency and chairmanship of this board
without explanation.  You all know that I have only nine years left to
serve this bank until my retirement and, if I were to leave before then,
my resignation would be totally misinterpreted in the financial world."

William looked down at his notes, deciding to lead with his ace.

"I am willing, gentlemen, to pledge my entire sharehold538 ing and a
further ten million dollars from my private trust to be placed at the
disposal of the bank in order that you can counter any move Mr.
Rosnovski makes while still insuring Lester's against any financial
loss.  I hope, gentlemen, in those circumstances, I can expect your full
support in my battle against Abel Rosnovski.  I am sure you are not men
to give in to vulgar blackmail."

The room went silent.  William felt certain he had won, but then Jake
Thomas asked if the board might question Mm about his relationship with
Abel Rosnovski.  The request took William by surprise, but he agreed
without hesitation.  Jake Thomas didn't frighten him.

"This vendetta between you and Abel Rosnovski," said Jake Thomas, "has
been going on for over thirty years.

Do you believe if we followed your plan that would be the end of the
matter?"

"What else can the man do?  What else can he do?" stuttered William,
looking around the room for support.

"We can't be sure until he does it, but with an eight percent holding in
the bank he has powers every bit as great as yours," said the new
company secretary - not William's choice, he talked too much.. "And all
we know is that neither of you seems able to give up this personal.feud.
Although you have offered ten million to protect our financial position,
if Rosnovski were continually to hold up policy decisions, call proxy
meetings, arrange takeover bids with no interest in the goodwill of the
bank, it would undoubtedly cause panic.  The bank and its subsidiary
companies, to whom we have a duty as directors, would at best, be highly
embarrassed and at worst, might eventually collapse."

"No, no," said William.. "With my personal backing we could meet him
head on."

"The decision we have to make today," continued the company secretary,
'is whether there are any circumstances in which this board wants to
meet Mr.  Rosnovski head on.  Perhaps we are bound to be the losers in
the long run."

"Not if I cover the cost from my private trust," said William.

"That you could do," said Jake Thomas, "but it's not just money we're
discussing; much bigger problems arise for the bank.  Now that Rosnovski
can invoke Article Seven, he can play with us when and as he pleases.
The bank could be spending its entire time doing nothing but trying to
anticipate Abel Rosnovski's every move."

Jake Thomas waited for the effect of what he had said to sink in.
William remained silent.  Then Thomas looked at William and continued:
"Now I must ask you a very serious personal question, Mr.  Chairman,
which worries every one of us around this table, and I hope you'll be
nothing less than frank with us when answering it, however unpleasant
that may be for you."

William looked up, wondering what the question could be.  What had they
been discussing behind his back?  Who the hell did Jake Thomas think he
was?  William felt he was losing the initiative.

"I will answer anything that the board requires," said William.. "I have
nothing and no one to fear," he said, looking pointedly at Jake Thomas.

"Thank you," said Jake Thomas.. "Mr.  Chairman, were you in any way
involved with sending a file to the justice Department in Washington
which caused Abel Rosnovski to be arrested and charged with fraud when
at the same time you knew he was a major shareholder of the bank's?"
"Did he tell you that?" demanded William.

"Yes, he claims you were the sole reason for his arrest." William stayed
silent for a few moments, considering his reply, while he looked down at
his notes.  They didn't help.  He had not thought that question would
arise but he had never lied to the board in over twenty-three years.  He
couldn't start now.

"Yes, I did," he said, breaking the silence.. "The information came into
my hands, and I considered that it was nothing less than my duty to pass
it on to the justice Department.. "How did the information come into
your hands?" William did not reply.

"I think we all know the answer to that question, Mr6 Chairman," said
Jake Thomas.. "Moreover, you let the authorities know without briefing
the board of your action and by so doing you put all of us in jeopardy.
Our reputations, our careers, everything this bank stands for over a
personal vendetta."

"But Rosnovski was trying to ruin me," said William, aware he was now
shouting.

"So in order to ruin him you risked the bank's stability and
reputation."

"It is my bank," said William.

"It is not," said Jake Thomas.. "You own eight percent of the stock, as
does Mr.  Rosnovski, and at the moment you are president and chairman of
Lester's, but the bank is not yours to use for your own personal whim
without consulting the other directors."

"Then I will have to ask the board for a vote of confidence," said
William.. "I'll ask you to support me against Abel Rosnovski."

"That is not what a vote of confidence would be about," said the company
secretary.. "The vote would be about whether you are the right man to
run this bank in the present circumstances.  Can't you see that, Mr.
Chairman?"

"So be it," said William, turning his eyes away.. "This board must
decide whether it wishes to end my career in disgrace now, after nearly
a quarter of a century's service, or to yield to the threats of a
convicted criminal."

Jake Thomas nodded to the company secretary and voting slips were passed
around to every board member.  It looked to William as if everything had
been decided before the meeting.  He glanced around the crowded table at
the twenty-nine men.  Many of them he had chosen himself, but some of
them he didn't know at all well.  He had once heard that a small group
of young directors openly supported the Democratic Party and John
Kennedy.  Some of them were looking at him; some were not.  Surely
they'd back him; they wouldn't let Rosnovski beat him.  Not now.

Please let me finish my term as chairman, he said to himself, then I'll
go quietly and without any fuss - but not this way.

He watched the members of the board as they passed their voting slips
back to the secretary.  He was opening them slowly.  The room was silent
and all eyes were turned towards the secretary as he began opening the
last few slips, noting down each aye and nay meticulously on a piece of
paper placed in front of him that revealed two columns.  William could
see that one list of names was considerably longer than the other, but
his failing eyesight did not permit him to decipher which was which.  He
could not accept that the day could have come when there would be a vote
in his own board room between himself and Abel Rosnovski.

The secretary was saying something.  William couldn't believe what he
heard.  By seventeen votes to twelve he had lost the confidence of the
board.  He managed to stand up.  Abel Rosnovski had beaten him in the
final battle.

No one spoke as William left the board room.  He returned to the
Chairman's office and picked up his coat, stopping only to look at the
portrait of Charles Lester for the last time, and then walked slowly
down the long corridor and out of the front entrance.

The doorman said. "Nice to have you back again, Mr.  Chairman.  See you
tomorrow, sir."

William realised he would never see him again.  He turned around and
shook hands with the man who had directed him to the board room
twenty-three years before.

The rather surprised doorman said. "Goodnight, sir," as he watched
William climb into the back of his car for the last time.

His chauffeur took him home and when he reached East Sixty-eighth
Street, William collapsed on his front door step.  The chauffeur and
Kate helped him into the house.  Kate could see he was crying, and she
put her amis round him.

"What is it, William?  What's happened?"

"I've been thrown out of my own bank," he wept.. "My own board no longer
have confidence in me.  When it mattered, they supported Abel
Rosnovski."

Kate managed to get him up to bed and sat with him through the night. He
never spoke.  Nor did he sleep.

The announcement in the Wall Street journal the following Monday morning
said simply. "William Lowell Kane, the president and chairman of
Lester's Bank resigned after yesterday's board meeting."

No mention of illness or any explanation was given for his sudden
departure, and there was no suggestion that his son would take his place
on the board.  William knew that rumour would sweep through Wall Street
and that the worst would be assumed.  He sat in bed alone, caring no
longer for this world.

Abel read the announcement of William Kane's resignation in the Wall
Street journal the same day.  He picked up the phone, dialled Lester's
Bank and asked to speak to the new chairman.  A few seconds later Jake
Thomas came on the line.. "Good morning, Mr.  Rosnovski."

"Good morning, Mr.  Thomas.  I'm just phoning to confirm that I shall
release all my Interstate Airways shares to the bank at the market price
this morning and my eight percent holding in Lester's to you personally
for two million dollars."

"Thank you, Mr.  Rosnovski, that's most generous of you.. "No need to
thank me, Mr.  Chairman, it's no more than we agreed on when you sold me
your two percent of Lester's," said Abel Rosnovski.

Book Seven

Abel was surprised to find how little satisfaction his final triumph had
given him.

George tried to persuade him that he should go to Warsaw to look over
sites for the new Baron but Abel didn't want to.  As he grew older he
became fearful of dying abroad and never seeing Florentyna again, and
for months Abel showed no interest in the group's activities.  When John
F.  Kennedy was assassinated on 22 November 1963, Abel became even more
depressed and feared for America.  Eventually George did convince him
that a trip abroad could do no harm, and that things would perhaps seem
a little easier for him when he returned.

Abel travelled to Warsaw where he obtained a highly confidential
agreement to build the first Baron in the communist world.  His command
of the language impressed Warsawians, and he was proud to beat Holiday
Inns and Intercontinental behind the Iron Curtain.  He couldn't help
thinking ...  and it didn't help when Lyndon Johnson appointed John
Gronowski to be the first Polish-American ambassador to Warsaw.  But now
nothing seemed to give any satisfaction.  He had defeated Kane and lost
his own daughter, and he wondered if the man felt the same way about his
son.  After Warsaw, he roamed the world, staying in his hotels, watching
the construction of new ones.  He opened the first Baron in Cape Town,
South Africa, and flew back to Germany to open one in Dilsseldorf.

Abel then spent six months in his favourite Baron in Paris, roaming the
streets by day, and attending the opera at night, hoping it might revive
happy memories of Florentyna.

He eventually left Paris and returned to America, after his long exile.
As he descended the metal steps of an Air France 707 at Kennedy
International Airport, his back hunched and his bald head covered with a
black hat, nobody recognised him.  George was there to greet him, loyal,
honest George, looking quite a bit older.  On the ride to the New York
Baron, George, as always, brought him up to date on group news.  The
profits, it seemed, were even higher as his keen young executives thrust
forward in every major country in the world.  Seventy-two hotels run by
twenty-two thousand staff.  Abel didn't seem to be listening.  He only
wanted news of Florentyna.

"She's well," said George, "and coming to New York early next year."
"Why?" said Abel, suddenly excited.

"She's opening one of her shops on Fifth Avenue.. "Fifth Avenue?"

"The eleventh Florentyna." said George.

"Have you seen her?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"Is she well, is she happy?"

"Both of them are very well and happy, and so successful.

Abel, you should be very proud of them.  Your grandson is quite a boy,
and your granddaughter's beautiful.  The image of Florentyna when she
was that age.. "Will she see me?" said Abel.

"Will you see her husband?"

"No, George.  I can never meet that boy, not while his father is still
alive.. "What if you die first?" '.You mustn't believe everything you
read in the Bible." Abel and George drove in silence back to the hotel,
and Abel dined alone in his room that night.

For the next six months, he never left the penthouse, When Florentyna
Kane opened her new boutique on Fifth Avenue in March 1967, everyone in
New York seemed to be there, except William Kane and Abel Rosnovski.

Kate and Lucy had left William in bed muttering' to himself while they
went off to the opening o. "Florentyna's'.

George left Abel alone in his suite so that he could attend the
celebrations.  He had tried to talk Abel into going along with him. Abel
grunted that his daughter had opened ten shops without him, and one more
wouldn't make any difference.  George told him he was a stubborn old
fool and left for Fifth Avenue on his own.  When he arrived at the shop,
a magnificent modern boutique with thick carpets and the latest Swedish
furniture - it reminded him of the way Abel used to do things - he found
Florentyna, wearing a long blue gown with the now famous F on the high
collar.  She gave George a glass of champagne and introduced Mm to Kate
and Lucy Kane who were chatting with Zaphia.  Kate and Lucy were clearly
happy and they surprised George by enquiring after Abel Rosnovski.

"I told him he was a stubborn old fool to miss such a good party.  Is
Mr.  Kane here?" he asked.

George was delighted by Kate Kane's happy reply.

William was still muttering angrily at the New York Times, something
about johnson's pulling his punches in Vietnam, when he folded the
newspaper and got himself out of bed.  He started to dress slowly,
staring at himself in the mirror when he had finished.  He looked like a
banker.  He scowled.  How else should he look?  He put on a heavy black
overcoat and his old Homburg hat, picked up his black walking stick with
the silver handle, the one Rupert Cork-Sinith had left him, and somehow
got himself out on to the street.  The first time he had been out on his
own, he thought, for the best part of three years, since that last
serious heart attack.

The maid was surprised to see him leaving the house unaccompanied.

It was an unusually warm spring evening, but William felt the cold after
being in the house so long.  It took him a considerable time to reach
Fifth Avenue and Fifty-sixth Street, and when he eventually did arrive,
the crowd was so large outside Florentyna's that he felt he didn't have
the strength to fight his way through it.  He stood at the kerb,
watching the people enjoying themselves.  Young people, happy and
excited, thrusting their way into Florentyna's beautiful shop.  Some of
the girls were wearing the new mini skirts from London.  What next?
thought William, and then he saw his son talking to Kate.  He had grown
into such a fine looking man - tall, confident, and relaxed, he had an
air of authority about him that reminded William of his own father.  But
in the bustle and continual movement, he couldn't quite work out which
one was Florentyna.  He stood there for nearly an hour enjoying the
comings and goings, regretting the stubborn years he had thrown away.

The wind was beginning to race down Fifth Avenue.  He'd forgotten how
cold that March wind could be.  He turned his collar up.  He must get
home, because they were all coming to dinner that night, and he was
going to meet Florentyna and the grandchildren for the first time.  His
grandson and little Annabel and their father, his beloved son.  He had
told Kate what a fool he'd been and begged her forgiveness.  All he
remembered her saying wa. "I'll always love you." Florentyna had written
to him.  Such a generous letter.  She had been so understanding and kind
about the past.  She had ended wit. "I can't wait to meet you." .  He
must get home.  Kate would be cross with him if she ever discovered he'd
been out on his own in that cold wind.  But he had to see the opening of
the shop and in any case tonight he would be with them all.  He must
leave now and let them enjoy their celebrations.  They could tell him
all about the opening over dinner.  He wouldn't tell them he'd been
there, that would always be his secret.

He turned to go home and saw an old man standing a few yards away in a
black coat, with a hat pulled way down on his head, and a scarf around
his neck.  He, too, was cold.  Not a night for old men, thought William,
as he walked towards him.  And then he saw the silver band on his wrist,
just below his sleeve.  In a flash it all came back to him, fitting into
place for the first time.  First the Plaza, then Boston, then Germany,
and now Fifth Avenue.  The man turned and started to walk towards him.
He must have been standing there for a long time because his face was
red from the wind.  He stared at William out of those unmistakable blue
eyes.  They were now only a few yards apart.

As they passed, William raised his hat to the old man.  He returned the
compliment, and they continued on their separate ways without a word.

I must get home, thought William, before they do.  The joy of seeing
Richard and his two grandchildren would make everything worthwhile
again.  He must come to know Florentyna, ask for her forgiveness, and
trust that she would understand what he could scarcely understand
himself now.  Such a fine girl, they all told him.

When he reached East Sixty-eighth Street, he fumbled for his key and
opened the front door.  Must turn on all the lights, he told the maid,
and build the fire up to make them feel welcome.  He was very contented
and very, very tired.

"Draw the curtains," he said, "and light the candles on the dining room
table.  There's so much to celebrate."

William couldn't wait for them all to return.  He sat in the old crimson
leather chair by a blazing fire and thought happily of the evening that
lay ahead of him.  Grandchildren around him, the years he had missed.
When hadEs little grandson first said three?  A chance to bury the past
and earn forgiveness in the future.  The room was so nice and warm after
that cold wind, but the journey had been well worthwhile.

A few minutes later there was an excited bustle downstairs and the maid
came in to tell William that his son had arrived.  He was in the hall
with his mother, and his wife and two of the loveliest children the maid
had ever seen.

And then she ran off to be sure that dinner would be ready for Mr.  Kane
on time.  He would want everything to be perfect for them that night.

When Richard came into the room, Florentyna was by his side.  She looked
quite radiant.

"Father," he said.. "I would like you to meet my wife." William Lowell
Kane would have turned to greet them but he could not.  He was dead.

Abel placed the envelope on the table by the side of his bed.  He hadn't
dressed yet.  Nowadays he rarely rose before noon.  He tried to remove
his breakfast tray from his knees on to the floor.  A bending movement
that demanded too much dexterity for his stiff body to accomplish.  He
inevitably ended by dropping the tray with a bang.  It was no different
today.  He no longer cared.  He picked up the envelope once more, and
read the covering note for second time.

"We were instructed by the late Mr.  Curtis Fenton, sometime manager of
the Continental Trust Bank, La Salle Street, Chicago, to send you the
enclosed letter, when certain circumstances have come about.  Please
acknowledge receipt of this letter by signing the enclosed copy,
returning it to us in the stamped addressed envelope supplied herewith."
"Goddamn lawyers," said Abel, and tore open the letter.

Dear Mr.  Rosnovski:

This letter has been in the keeping of my lawyers until today for
reasons which will become apparent to you as you read on.

When in 1951 you closed your accounts at the Continental Trust after
over twenty years with the bank, I was naturally very unhappy and very
concerned.  My concern was engendered not by losing one of the bank's
most valued customers, sad though that was, but because I know you felt
that I had acted in a dishonourable fashion.  What you were not aware of
at the time was that I had specific instructions from your backer not to
reveal certain facts to you.

When you first visited me at the bank in 1929, you requested financial
help to clear the debt incurred by Mr.  Davis Leroy, in order that you
might take possession of the hotels which then formed the Richmond
Group.  I was unable to find a backer, despite approaching several
leading financiers myself.  I took a personal interest, as I believed
that you had an exceptional flair for your chosen career.  It has given
me a great deal of satisfaction to observe in old age that my confidence
was not misplaced.  I might add at this point that I also felt some
responsibility, having advised you to buy twenty-five percent of the
Richmond Group from my client, Miss Amy Leroy, when I did not know the
financial predicament that was facing Mr.  Leroy at that time.  I
digress.

I did not succeed in finding a backer for you and had given up all hope
when you came to visit me on that Monday morning.  I wonder if you
remember that day.  Only thirty minutes before your appointment I had a
call from a financier who was willing to put up the necessary money,
who, like me, had a great confidence in you personally.

His only stipulation was, as I advised you at the time, that he insisted
on remaining anonymous because of a potential conflict between his
professional and private interests.  The terms he offered, allowing you
to gain eventual control of the Richmond Group, I considered at the time
to be extremely generous and you rightly took full advantage of them.

Indeed your backer was delighted when you found it possible, through
your own diligence, to repay his original investment.

I lost contact with you both after 1951, but after I retired from the
bank, I read a distressing story in the newspapers concerning your
backer, which prompted me to write this letter, in case I died before
either of you.

I write not to prove my good intentions in this whole affair, but so
that you should not continue to live under the illusion that your backer
and benefactor was Mr.  David Maxton of the Stevens Hotel.  Mr.  Maxton
was a great admirer of yours, but he never approached the bank in that
capacity.  The gentleman who made the Baron Group possible, by his
foresight and personal generosity was William Lowell Kane, the chairman
of Lester's Bank, New York.

I begged Mr.  Kane to inform you of his personal involvement, but he
refused to break the clause in his trust deed that stipulated that no
benefactor should be privy to the investments of the family trust. After
you had paid off the loan and he later learned of Henry Osborne's
personal involvement with the Baron Group he became even more adamant
that you should never be informed.

I have left instructions that this letter is to be destroyed if you die
before Mr.  Kane.  In those circumstances, he will receive a letter,
explaining your total lack of knowledge of his personal generosity.

Whichever one of you receives a letter from me, it was a privilege to
have served you both.

As ever, your faithful servant, Curtis Fenton.

Abel picked up the phone by the side of his bed.. "Find George for me,"
he said.. "I need to get dressed."

William Lowell Kane's funeral was well attended.  Richard and Florentyna
stood on one side of Kate; Virginia and Lucy were on the other.
Grandmother Kane would have approved of the turn-out.  Three senators,
five congressmen, two bishops, most of the leading banks' chair-men, and
the publisher of the Wall Street journal were all there.  Jake Thomas
and every director of the Lester's board was also present, their heads
bowed in'prayer to the God in whom William had never really believed.

No one noticed two old men, standing at the back of the gathering, their
heads also bowed, looking as if they were not attached to the main
party.  They had arrived a few minutes late and left quickly at the end
of the service.

Florentyna thought she recognised the limp as the shorter old man
hurried away.  She told Richard.  They didn't mention their suspicion to
Kate Kane.

A few days later, the taller of the two old men went to see Florentyna
in her shop on Fifth Avenue.  He had heard she was returning to San
Francisco and needed to seek her help before she left.  She listened
carefully to what he had to say and agreed to his request with joy.

Richard and Florentyna Kane arrived at the Baron Hotel the next
afternoon.  George Novak was there to meet and escort them to the
forty-second floor.  After ten years, Florentyna hardly recognised her
father, now propped up in bed, half-moon glasses on the end of his nose,
still no pillows, but .3miHng defiantly.  They talked of happier days
and both laughed a little and cried a lot.

"You must forgive us, Richard," said Abel.. "The Polish are a
sentimental race." '

"I know, my children are half Polish." said Richard, Later that evening
they dined together, magnificent roast VW

veal, appropriate for the return of the prodigal daughter, said Abel.

He talked of the future and how he saw the progress of his group.

"We ought to have a Florentyna's in every hotel," he said.

She laughed and agreed.

He told Richard of his sadness concerning his father, revealing in
detail the mistakes he had made for so many years, and how it had never
crossed his mind even for a moment that he could have been his
benefactor, and how he would have liked one chance to thank him
personally.

"He would have understood," said Richard.

"We met, you know, the day he died," said Abel.

Florentyna and Richard stared at him in surprise.

"Oh yes," said Abel.. "We passed each other on Fifth Avenue, he had come
to watch the opening of your shop.

He raised his hat to me.  It was enough, quite enough." Abel had only
one request of Florentyna.  That she and Richard would accompany him on
his journey to Warsaw in nine months' time for the opening of the latest
Baron.

"Can you imagine," he said, again excited, his fingers tapping the side
table.. "The Warsaw Baron.  Now there is a hotel that could only be
opened by the president of the Baron Group."

During the following months the Kanes visited Abel regularly and
Florentyna grew very close to her father again.

Abel came to admire Richard and the common sense that tempered all his
daughter's ambitions.  He adored his grandson.  And.little Annabel was -
what was that awful modern expression?  - she was something else.  Abel
had rarely been happier in his life and began elaborate plans for his
triumphant return to Poland to open the Warsaw Baron.

The president of the Baron Group opened the Warsaw Baron six months
later than had been originally scheduled.

Building contracts run late in Warsaw just as they do in every other
part of the world.

In her first speech, as president of the group, she told her guests that
her pride in the magnificent hotel was mingled with a feeling of sadness
that her late father could not have been present to open the Warsaw
Baron limself  In his will, Abel left everything to Florentyna, with the
single exception of a small bequest.  The testament described the gift
as a heavy engraved silver bracelet, rare, but of unknown value, and
bearing the legen. "Baron Abel Rosnovski'.

The beneficiary was his grandson, William Abel Kane.
