details. I was to escort daughter and necklace first to the Sparlings' where there would be a wedding, after which the line of march would be down the Boulevard to the Drake. Probably my friend was still in Chicago; if he'd been called to New York on business, he must have jumped the Century and come back again with opportunity pounding on his door like that.
"Well, he arrived and we know what he did."
Jerry looked down and then suddenly up at me. "Seen Dot recently, Steve?"
I nodded.
"She still thinks it was me?"
I had to nod again.
"You've seen her since—" his voice hardened and he finished, "the Scofield bump off?"
"Yes."
"That was me, too?"
"She thinks, you see," I said, "you're no longer yourself."
"Kind of her," said he. "Very. Well, I'd gathered as much from the papers. I don't blame her. Where were we?"
"He'd got the necklace."
"Oh, yes; and Fred and Ken Scofield were informing their father's wife that, after cut-
