"We certainly are not," he said, endorsing the check and handing it to her.

Her eyes grew wide. "I had no idea it was worth so much."

"The broker reckoned it had cost close to three million to build and equip. Still, after his commission, that's a good price."

"What shall I do with it?" Alma asked.

"Write a check for, let's see"--he began scribbling numbers on his newspaper--"three hundred seventy-five thousand to that law firm in Palm Beach, for the account of Libby Manning's mother. I want that off my conscience."

"Right," sad Alma.

"Then send a check for five hundred and forty thousand to the Internal Revenue Service." He groaned. "God, how proud I am to be an American and pay my taxes!"

"Right. That leaves eight' hundred and eighty-five thousand."

"Send my broker a check for two hundred thousand, and tell him to call me about where to invest it."

"We're rich!" Alma squealed. "What about the rest?"

"I was thinking about buying an airplane," Stone said.

Alma's face fell. "Oh. We're not rich anymore. Well, it was fun while it lasted." She got up and trudged comically back into the house.

Stone had a thought: he could afford a car now. He got up, went into the house, and walked through the kitchen

"into a storeroom, then through another door. This had been : a garage at one time, and there was still a folding door to the street, though he hadn't opened it for a long time. He

: waded through the stacked boxes and old lawn furniture to the door, which was made of heavy oak. He turned the lock, thinking, I'll have to install an automatic garage door opener if I'm going to use this space. He tugged at the door, which moved six inches and stopped. He tugged again, and got it open three feet. Then, with all his strength, he moved the door up all the way, until it was standing wide open. He found himself face-to-face with a tall man.

"Morning, Stone," the man said. "I was going to ring the front bell, but..."

"MorningT,". Stone said. "What brings you around to see me?"

"Oh, just a social call," Jim Forrester said. "Got a few minutes?"

"Sure." Stone dragged two lawn chairs over, made a pass at dusting them, and sat down. "Take a pew."

The two men sat, ten. feet from the street. Forrester seemed a little annoyed at not being asked into the house. "How about some coffee?"

he said.

"Sorry, coffee's off the menu," Stone replied. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I was just passing by."

"Were you? Say, whatever happened to your New Yorker piece? I haven't seen it."

'Oh, they take a long time to edit' anything you know. My editor..."

"That would be Charles McGrath?"

"Right."

"Chip McGrath left The New Yorker a couple of

SU? WO(X)S.

years ago to become editor o the New York Times Book Review."

"Ah, right; I'm working with another editor now. Say, what do you hear from Allison?"

"You must think I'm a medium," Stone said, expressionless.

"I inquired bout the disposition of the body at Government House. They didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I began to think that Allison might not be dead after all."

"The police told me that their policy was to cremate the body and scatter the ashes at sea," Stone said. That was certainly what they had told him. "By the way, have you been to any alumni reunions lately?"

Forrester loked at him, puzzled. "No, not for years. Why do you ask?"

"I did a little checking upstate. There was no James' Forrester at Syracuse, not since the class of '38, and I think that was a little before your time."

"Must be some mistake," Forrester said.

"No, but there was a Paul Manning, at Cornell, of course."

"Yes, that's where Paul went. Why were you checking on me at Syracuse?"

"When I've been had, I like to know why and by whom."

"Had?"

"Manning did play basketball for his fraternity, as you said he did. In fact, I've got a copy of the yearbook for his senior year, and there's a very good photograph of him in it. He looks very different--thinner and no beard. Would you like to see it?"

Forrester looked at his nails. "It doesn't interest me," he said. '.

"I guess not," Stone agreed. "Tell me, where are you living these days?" "I've been living here in the city, but I think I'm going to do some traveling now." "I'm not surprised," Stone replied. Alma walked into the garage from the house. "Oh, there you are. Bill Eggers is on the phone; he wants to know if you want to have lunch." "Tell Bill I can't make it today, but I'll call him later," Stone said. "Oh, and call Dino and tell him to pick me up in five minutes and to bring his friends. I've got some stuff I want to give to the Salvation Army."

"Okay," Alma said, then left. "Stone," Manning said, "I really came to see you to find out if you would represent me as my attorney." "No, I won't." "Why not? ..... "Because you're looking for attorney-client confidentiality, aren't you?" "In part." "Well, you won't get it from me, pal." "Stone, I don't understand..." "Sure you do, Paul. By the way, I got a check for your yacht this morning. It brought a million, eight after the broker's fee." His face flushed. "I should have thought it was worth a good deal more." "Oh, I know you paid more, but what with the market and all..."

Paul Manning looked at his nails again. "When did you figure it out?"

"Oh, I was very. slow It didn't all come together for me until I was sailing the boat from St. Marks to Fort Lauderdale. No, a little earlier, I guess, when I saw the repair you'd made to the headsail reefing swivel."

"What else do you think you've figured out?" "The dinghy was never stolen in Las Palmas." "Wasn't it?"

"You just made some noise about it, replaced it, then sailed the old one back to the Canaries after Expansive was over the horizon."

"If you say so."

"What did you do about clothes and papers? You couldn't use ygur own passport."

Manning looked at Stone for a long moment, then apparently decided it didn't matter anymore. "All right, I left a car on the south coast of Gran Canaria with some clothes."