“Do you think it will be that easy when American lives depend on your decision?”

“I take your point,” Knott said.

“My President has one thing going for her that you don’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“When she makes a decision, most of those people I mentioned can predict what she’ll do. That’s because she has a history, a record of making good decisions. But you don’t have that history, that record. How will the people who vote for you know which way you’ll jump?”

“They’ll trust me,” Knott said. “I’m a wealthy man because I know how to get people to trust me.”

The St. Clairs appeared from below, served themselves, and joined the table. “Good morning,” he said, “I hope I haven’t interrupted an interesting conversation.”

“Just in the nick of time,” Holly said. “I was, I think, about to get a straight answer from a political candidate.”

Everyone laughed, even Nelson Knott.

“Holly,” he said, “if you want straight answers from me, you’re going to have to stay up late at night.”

“Is that when you’re going to hold your campaign press conferences?” she asked.

“Now, that’s an interesting idea,” Knott said. “The press would be exhausted, and I’d be fresh as a daisy. I’d like those odds, wouldn’t you, Hal?”

“That would give you an edge,” Ozick admitted.

“Well, after breakfast,” Holly said, “I’m going to want to know how you formulate policy.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you that now,” Knott said. “I have a policy advisory committee at work right now, analyzing. There are experts in every field participating, and when I make a policy statement, it will be followed immediately by a written account.”

“Well,” said Holly, “that would be a refreshing change in our opposition.”

St. Clair artfully changed the subject.

21

STONE SAT ON THE AFTERDECK late in the morning and read the day’s Times, which a crewman had brought from ashore. They were motoring quietly, at about ten knots, southeast, toward an eventual destination of Monhegan Island. The captain had told him there was no docking there, but when the wind and tide were right, they could put a launch ashore. The skies were low, but the visibility was good ahead.

Christian St. Clair and Nelson Knott were inside, at the far end of the saloon, talking earnestly. The other two couples and Clarice Knott were on the top deck, taking the breeze. Shortly, the two men in the saloon stood, and Knott went forward and up the stairs to the higher deck. Christian St. Clair walked aft, poured himself a cup of tea from an urn, and sat down with Stone.

“How is your cruise going?” he asked Stone.

“Just the way a cruise is supposed to,” Stone said, “though in greater comfort than I’m accustomed to.”

“What do you think of your shipmates?”

“I’m very impressed with my hosts and their yacht.”