"Why didn't you call me sooner? I've been up since five" Leverman sighed. As was often his habit when faced with despairing news, he changed the subject completely.

"See the Times yet this morning?"

"Are you kidding? All I've seen is smoke and ashes' ' "Your beautiful friend Andrea has an article in section two, page one. A woman with brains. That's like a fine watch that actually tells the correct time.

Good article. How did she know about-?"

"I haven't seen her all week," Thomas answered.

"I'll see you when you get here" Thomas next telephoned a secretary and two clerical employees, telling them what had happened and advising them not to come in for at least that day. They asked if they'd be paid. Thomas a.s.sured them they would, though when he hung up he wast quite sure how. There simply wasn't much money. And, given the suspicious nature of the fire, the insurance company could be counted on to delay payment indefinitely.

For a moment Thomas stood up from the borrowed desk and stared out the window, watching people coming to work in the steady January drizzle.

He wondered what it would be like to be in another line of work. Such as? He didn't know. He was aware of someone at the door.

"Mr. Daniels?" It was Jacobus.

"Yes?"

"The detectives want you. I think they found something."

"Paraffin" said Frank Bianco, a dark, heavy-set Fire Department detective. 'and celluloid. An old technique" but reliable" The fire investigator stood at an impromptu work area that he'd established on a damaged desk in Thomas's office. On the desk he'd spread a clean drape. On the drape, beside a cardboard container of coffee, he'd spread various items which had been found in the debris of the filing room. Another detective, Jack Shoenbaum, had photographed the area extensively and was still sifting through the wet rubble.

In the ashes of the filing room, Schoenbaum had found seven separate puddles of molten paraffin, blackened by fire but easily recognizable.

"Seven paraffin candles, strategically set,fwhere they'd pick up crosscurrents of air," explained Bianco.

"The perpetrator used the candles as his timers. Once he'd lit them he had about an hour before they burned down' Thomas looked at the amorphous black substances. He felt a slight tremble of fear looking at the instruments of the knowledgeable but faceless man who had intentionally burned him out.

Thomas examined one of those paraffin deposits, then wiped his fingers on a towel.

"See this?" asked Bianco, holding up a four-inch black strip with his rubber surgical gloves. The strip looked like a negative from a roll of film. Thomas held up his hand to examine it, but Bianco pulled it away.

"Don't touch! I want it treated for fingerprints.

Know what it is?"

Thomas shook his head.

"Any reason why it would be near your files?"

"None that I know of," said Thomas.

"One of the burning tables collapsed on this strip. That pinned it to the floor and protected it while the other side of the table burned.

Several long strips like this were used as trailers. Celluloid.

It ignites immediately and can spread a blaze through an entire room in seconds. Perfect trailer," said Bianco with grudging admiration.

"I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Daniels. Whoever torched you sure knew what he was doing. He wasn't a virgin."

"Super," grumbled Daniels after a few seconds. He looked at Bianco carefully.

"Based on what you've seen here, do you have any chance of catching him?"

"Oh, there's a chance," said Bianco slowly.

"I suppose that a s...o...b..ll has some chance in h.e.l.l, too." Bianco shook his head.

"This guy didn't exactly leave much to start with," he said.

"Unless you've got some idea who might have done it."

"None," said Thomas.

"None at all."

By eleven A.M. the arson detectives had completed their work.

Soon afterward a thin, gaunt man named Marvin Jupiter arrived.

Jupiter was an investigator for National Fire Underwriters of Hartford.

Jupiter spent an hour walking around, rubbing his chin, sniffling, taking notes, and not speaking. Thomas knew already that the next suit he'd be filing would be against his own insurance company.

During the afternoon Daniels, Leverman, and Derham attempted to begin a cleanup operation. Quickly, they realized that theirs was more a salvage operation. What the fire hadn't destroyed, smoke, water, and ashes had rendered unusable. The firm was" indefinitely at least, out of business.

By seven thirty that evening, Thomas Daniels was unlocking the door to his apartment. He opened it and was immediately aware that someone was there.

Andrea.

She'd let herself in. Sitting in the living room, leafing through an afternoon newspaper, she'd been waiting for him. She stood there, radiant as ever. He tried to speak but couldn't. The day had been like a death in the family.

"I know all about it," she said.

"I know how you must feel' She kissed him gently.

He shrugged, then embraced her.

"I'm not letting it defeat me,"

he said.

"Worse things could happen. I'll get by some way."

"Thought we'd have some dinner," she said.

"I'm sure you can use it' "We'll go out," he said. He motioned toward the kitchen.

"I don't think there's anything here."

"I brought everything we'll need for the evening," she said.