"Sandler?"

"Yo.u're brilliant" He glanced at his watch.

"I have a store to open in fifteen minutes. Sat.u.r.day's my big day."

Then, unable to resist a parting shot, he added,

"Not all of us were lucky enough to have a wealthy lawyer for a father.

Some of us have to work " He rose rudely from the table, pushing his chair back, and trying to end the visit.

Thomas spoke, without rising.

"How many governments did Sandler work for at once?" he asked doggedly.

"What?" He looked at Thomas as if the attorney had won an uncontested divorce from his sanity. the repeated.

"What about yourseIP" "What about me?"

"Everything about you, right down to your current cloak of piety.

Sorry," he said, starting to stand, 'but I'm innately suspicious of a man who disappeared in 1939 and surfaced immediately after the war. The real problem with you, what bothers me the most, is that you have no loyalties other than yourself. You sell to the highest bidder. I wonder how many people you sold to' ' Grover shook his head, calm and listening, and sensing no serious threat.

"Your old man never trusted anyone either." He looked Thomas up and down. It wasn't a glare. Thomas had seen the look before. It was contempt, the contempt of the street-wise kid for the private-school boy, the dislike of someone who thought he'd had none of the breaks for someone else who seemed to have had them all. ll me something," said Grover.

"You come busting in here bothering me, stirring up skeletons and asking me questions. Now you tell me something." It was posed as a challenge.

"Who's this client of yours?"

"Arthur Sandler's daughter."

Grover looked at Daniels as if to wonder whether or not Daniels was serious.

"Don't give me any c.r.a.p," Grover warned, 'or I'll rearrange your dental work' "I'm serious."

"Arthur Sandler didn't have a daughter. Or a son" "What would you say if I told you she was in a car in front of your house?"

"I'd say you needed gla.s.ses "Be my guest" said Daniels. He motioned with an open palm to the dining-room door.

Grover walked through to the living room and stood at the window, looking out. Thomas stood to his side, watching not the car m but Grover's expression.

Grover's expression was unyielding for a second or two. Then for an instant the eyes seemed to go wide, as if in rude recognition, and the tight lips seemed to drop slightly. Almost as quickly, Grover gathered himself. But a man wears the face he has earned. Grovees expression now betrayed mystification, not hostility. Yet Thomas sensed that a full and complete story was not yet ready to be told.

"She's a fake " he said softly and calmly.

"Where'd you find her?"

"She came to my office. Looking for help" Grover took a deep breath, almost a sigh of resignation. He looked up and his puffy eyes glared into Thomas's.

"I'm going to do you a favor," he declared briskly.

"I'm going to tell you the truth." From Grover, it seemed a major p.r.o.nouncement.

"Will it be at odds with everything else you've told me?" asked Thomas with evident sarcasm.

"You know," said Grover, 'the only thing worse than a smart a.s.sed lawyer is a dumb-a.s.sed lawyer. Want to hear it or not?"

"Sorry," said Thomas with conciliation.

"Go ahead" "Yes, Sandler had a daughter," Grover said.

"And no," he added, motioning toward the car, 'that's not her.

Sandler's real daughter is in London. Dead. Buried. And you'll be, too, if you don't get away from that little cutie out there."

Thomas searched the face of his father's one-time client, a man whose credibility vacillated between total and zero from in' minute to minute. Thomas could picture the rainy cemetery in Earl's Court.

He could picture Whiteside. He could picture the tombstone.

He could picture the scar across Leslie's throat.

"Who's going to kill me?" Thomas asked.

"She is," said Grover simply.

"Would it surprise you that she's saved my life twice?"

"Not at all" he said.

"Perhaps she's biding her time."

"Waiting for what?"

"For the right time. For you to reveal some piece of information that she wants. Or for you to lead her to something. Bet. she questions you all the time about your old man's relationship with Sandler," he suggested with a grin.

Thomas was silent, not wishing to admit that Grovees guess was accurate.

"See?" Grover said.

"Why should I believe you?" Thomas asked.

"You probably shouldn't. But if you're lucky, you will." He glanced at his watch. He motioned to the time with utter sincerity.

"Now, really, Mr. Daniels. Please believe me. I do run a stationery store and it is Sat.u.r.day."

Daniels looked at Grover and looked at the door, thinking of the woman in the car waiting for him. Waiting? For what? He was torn between leaving and staying to badger Grover with further questions, just as he was divided over whom to believe. Him? Or her?

Whiteside or Leslie?

"Why would-?"

"Please " said Grover quickly, raising a fat palm and shaking his head.