'I would like to bring up a delicate subject,' Fabian said, expertly loading a portion of caviar on his toast, not losing a single egg. 'It is a question of numbers. Three to be exact.' He looked first at Lily, then at me. 'Do you get my drift?'

No,' I said.

Lily said nothing.

'It is the wrong number for traveling,' Fabian went on. 'It can lead to division, subterfuge, jealousy, tragedy.'

'I see what you mean,' I said, feeling a hot flush begin at my collar.

'I suppose you agree, Douglas, that Lily here is a beautiful woman.'

I nodded.

'And Douglas is a most attractive young man,' Fabian said, his tone paternal and kindly. 'And will become more so as he becomes accustomed to wealth and after we supply him with a fresh wardrobe, which I intend to do as soon as we reach Rome.'

'Yes,' Lily said. She looked demurely down at her plate.

'We must face the truth. I am an older man. I hope nobody is going to contradict me.'

Nobody contradicted him.

'The chances of mischief are plain,' Fabian helped himself to more caviar. 'If there is a lady you have in mind as a fit traveling companion, Douglas, why don't you get in touch with her?'

The image of Pat came immediately to my mind, in a wave of tenderness, mingled with regret. I had rarely even thought of her during the years at the St Augustine. The protective, icy numbness that had come over me that last day in Vermont was melting fast in the company of Lily and Fabian. I had to recognize that, like it or not, I was once again exposed to old emotions, old loyalties, to the memories of distant pleasure. But even if Pat were free, I couldn't imagine her accepting my relationship with Fabian, whatever it was or turned out to be, or his blatantly high style of living. The girl who donated a portion of her small salary as a schoolteacher to the refugees of Biafra could hardly be expected to approve of the man sitting at the table spooning up caviar. Or of me, for that matter. Evelyn Coates was a more likely candidate for our little group and would be an interesting match for both Lily and Fabian, but who knew which Evelyn Coates would turn up - the surprisingly gentle woman of the last Sunday night in my hotel room or the abrasive Washington operator and business-like rapist I had met at the Hales' cocktail party? I also had to consider the possibility that, one way or another, Fabian and I might eventually be exposed. It would hardly do her career as a government lawyer any good if one day she was publicly branded as the consort of a pair of thieves.

'I'm afraid there's nobody I can think of at the moment,' I said.

I thought I detected the ghost of a smile pass across Lily's face.

'Lily,' Fabian said, "what is your sister Eunice doing these days?'

'Going through the Coldstream Guards in London,' Lily said. 'Or the Irish Guards. I forget who's on duty at the palace.'

'Do you think it would amuse her to join our party for a while?'

'Indeed,' Lily said.

'Do you think that if you sent her a wire she'd be prepared to meet us tomorrow night at the Hotel Baur au Lac in Zurich?'

'Very likely,' Lily said. 'Eunice travels light. I'll send the wire when we get back to the hotel.'

'Is that okay with you, Douglas?'

'Why not?' It seemed terribly cold-blooded to me, but I was in cold-blooded company. When in Rome. Caviar and circuses.

The maître d'hôtel came over to our table to tell Fabian that there was a call for him from America. 'What do you say, Douglas?' Fabian asked as he got up from the table. 'How low are you ready to go? How about forty, if necessary?'

'I'll leave it up to you,' I said. 'I've never sold a horse before.'

'Neither have I.' Fabian smiled. 'Well, there's a first time for everything.'

He followed the maître d'hôtel off the terrace.

The only sound was the crunching of Lily's teeth on her toast, ladylike, but firm. The sound made me nervous. I could feel her looking speculatively at me. 'Were you the one,' she asked, 'who broke the lamp on Miles' head?'

'Did he say I did?'

'He said there'd been a slight misunderstanding.'

'Why don't we let it go at that?'

'If you say so.' There was more crunching. 'Have you told him about Florence?'

'No. Have you?'

'I'm not an idiot,' she said.

'Does he suspect?'

'He's too proud to suspect.'

'And where do we go from here?' To Eunice,' Lily said calmly. 'You'll like Eunice. Every man does. For a month or so. I look forward to our holiday.' 'When do you have to go back to Jock?' She glanced at me sharply. 'How do you know about Jock?'

'Never mind,' I said. She had hurt me with her debonair assignment of me to her sister and I wanted to get a little of my own back.

'Miles says he's never going to play bridge or backgammon again. Do you know anything about that?'

'I have a general idea,' I said.

'But you're not going to tell me what it is.'

No.'

'He's a complicated man. Miles,' she said. 'He has an abiding fondness for money. Anybody's money. Be careful of him.'

'Thanks. I shall be.'

She leaned over and touched my hand. 'I had a lovely time in Florence,' she said softly.

For a tortured moment I wanted to grab her and plead with her to get up from the table and flee with me. 'Lily...' I said thickly.

She withdrew her hand. 'Don't be oversusceptible, love,’ she said. 'Remember that.'

Fabian came back, his face grave. 'I had to come down,' he said as he took his seat. He helped himself to more caviar. 'All the way to forty-five.' He grinned boyishly. 'I think we need another bottle of champagne."

I was at the big, carved, oak desk in my room at the hotel. I had said good night at my door to Lily and Fabian. They had the suite next to me. We both overlooked the Mediterranean. Lily had kissed me on the cheek and Fabian had shaken my hand. 'Get a good night's sleep, old boy,' he had said. 'I want to do some sight-seeing in the morning before we take off for

Zurich.' I was feeling a little giddy from all the champagne, but I didn't feel like sleeping. I took a sheet of the hotel stationery from the drawer of the desk and began to write on it almost at random.

Stake, I wrote, 20,000. Gold - 15,000, Bridge and backgammon - 36,000 ... Movie?

I stared at what I had written, half-hypnotized. Before this, even when I was making a comfortable living at the airline, I had never bothered to add up my check-book and certainly had not known within a hundred dollars what I was worth or even how much I had in my pocket at any given time. Now I resolved to keep an accounting every week. Or, with the way things were going, every day. I had discovered one of the deepest pleasures of wealth - addition. The numbers on the page gave me a greater satisfaction than I could hope to get from buying anything with the money the numbers represented. Briefly, I wondered if I should consider this a vice and be ashamed. I would wrestle with this at a later time.

I heard an unmistakable sound from the next room and winced. How far could I trust Fabian? His attitude toward money, his own and that of others, was, to say the least, cavalier. And there was nothing in what I knew of his character and background that suggested an unwavering commitment to fiscal honesty. Tomorrow I would demand that we write out a firm legal document. But no matter what we had on paper, I knew I would have to keep him in sight at all times.

When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of my brother Hank, sat at his adding machines, working on other people's money.

In the morning we finally had a chance to talk. Lily was going to the coiffeur to get her hair done and Fabian said he wanted to take me to see the Maeght Museum at St-Paul-de-Vence.

We set out from Nice, with Fabian at the wheel of the rented car. There was little traffic, the sea was calm on our left, the morning bright. Fabian drove safely, taking no risks, and I relaxed beside him, the euphoria of the evening before not yet dispelled by daylight. We drove in silence until we got out of Nice and past the airport. Then Fabian said, 'Don't you think I should know the circumstances?'