"And I know you don't talk on telephones" "I've told you everything I know."

"Impossible. Who was Vincent De Septio?"

Thomas could see the reaction immediately, though Zenger did his best to mask it. It was a moment's hesitation, an infinitesimal jump on the part of Zenger. The old man replied by merely saying, "What?" Thomas knew he'd struck close to something.

"Vincent De Septio. I'm sure you heard me the first time' "He was a client of ours, your father's and mine, once upon a time many years ago The old man sipped his brandy calmly and shrugged, leaning back to relax under questioning. "Nothing important about De Septio. Why?"

"I suspect he's very important."

The old man shrugged again and gave Thomas an innocent smile.

"Suspect anything you like. It's a free country."

You old b.a.s.t.a.r.d, thought Thomas, knowing he was being lured into the usual verbal chess game. If Zenger had ever given an immediate straight answer in his life, Thomas had never heard it.

"Let's talk about money," said Thomas.

"All right. Let's' "Counterfeit money."

Zenger was silent.

"Ever defend a counterfeiter?" pressed Thomas.

"Not to my recollection."

"You're perjuring yourself, counselor!" snapped Thomas caustically.

"You know G.o.d-d.a.m.ned well what I'm talking about. De Septio and Sandler were in the same business! Weren't they?"

The old man shrugged complacently.

"If you say so", he intoned calmly And he sipped his brandy as if bored.

Thomas bolted upward from his chair and leaped at the older man, charging with fury across the small room. He smashed the end table away from Zenger's chair and sent it crashing against a wall.

The lamp upon it shattered, its bulb bursting with a flashing pop.

Thomas grabbed the brandy snifter from Zenger's hand and furiously, with one motion of the hand, hurled it crashing against the back of the fireplace.

The old man's eyes were wide with surprise and fright now. The brandy whooshed into flame.

Almost before Thomas knew what he was doing, he had picked up Zenger by the lapels and was shaking him.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you G.o.d d.a.m.n you!"roared Thomas over and over.

"Are you going to talk to me or do I have to beat it to h.e.l.l out of you?"

He shook Zenger mercilessly, forgetting totally about Leslie, who sat calmly to the side and watched the scene as it transpired. She studied the two combatants as dispa.s.sionately as one might watch a dull movie.

The old man's voice could be heard screaming over the younger man's.

"All right! All right!" he was yelling.

And then, with a hand that was suddenly more agile and dextrous than it had previously admitted being, Zenger reached to the cane beside his chair. As the shaking stopped and as Thomas threw the octogenarian back into the leather chair, Zenger swung the cane around and caught Thomas with it. Daniels was able to raise his arm slightly in defense, blocking the blow partially and catching the brunt of it on the left of the skull.

The force sent Thomas staggering backward a step or two. His left hand rose quickly to where he'd felt the impact. The side of the skull was pounding and when he lowered his hand he saw blood on it.

But he was almost glad it had happened. The old man, defending himself like a cornered frightened animal, had literally knocked Daniels back to his senses. Thomas wondered if he otherwise could have killed the old man in a blind rage.

"Just like your father," muttered Zenger, bitterness and perhaps even a dash of hatred creeping into his voice.

"A hothead" Several seconds pa.s.sed as the two men stood glowering at each other. Zenger sat in his throne of retirement, bitter, frightened, but composed. Thomas stood in the center of the room, a thin trickle of blood on the side of his head, panting for breath with arms hanging at his side.

Zenger finally spoke.

"Sit down, young fellow," he said in a labored, sarcastic, and mock avuncular voice.

"You'll get your cursed answers. You'll get everything you deserve.

And more." Zenger continued to glower at the younger man. He glanced past Daniels to Leslie.

"Both from me and your fraudulent friend here." He motioned his head contemptuously toward her.

Thomas didn't move until he felt Leslie beside him. One of her hands was on his left shoulder, the other on his arm. She was telling him to calm down, to sit down, and she offered him a handkerchief for the cut on his temple.

He nodded to her and eased into the nearest chair. She sat behind him and watched Zenger from over Thomas's shoulder.

"Isn't this sweet?" asked Zenger.

"De Septio," Thomas repeated.

"I want to know about Vincent De Septio' ' "He was a counterfeiter."

"Was?, "Was. A good one, too, but he got careless. Your father got him off the hook twice" "What did De Septio have to do with Sandler?"

Zenger hesitated slightly.

"They knew each other."

"Well?"

"They were friends "Did they work together?"

Zenger answered with silence.

"Did they work together!" screamed Thomas a second time.

"Yes!" roared the old man.