“If we meet here, we will both be at risk, but if we meet at my hotel, only you will be, and you’ll have Mr. Bates with you.”

“In that case, I’ll bring Mr. Miller, too,” Coleman said. “He’s my broker, Bates. He brought me this deal in the first place, and he’s a strapping young fellow. No one will bother us with him along.”

Smith would doubtless add an extra charge to the bill for drawing up the quitclaim to pay for Gideon’s time away from the office, so he’d be sure to inform his clerk. “How soon do you want to schedule this meeting?”

They arranged to meet late afternoon on Monday. That would give Waterson time to gather the cash. Gideon doubted he would need that much time. He figured Waterson probably kept his money handy, in case he had to leave town at a moment’s notice, but he didn’t mention that. Instead, he left it to Smith to collect payment for his services while he tried to decide if he’d ask Elizabeth to tell him what to expect when they did meet. He decided he would ask, but she probably wouldn’t tell him. It was always better, as he well knew, if he didn’t know what was going to happen.

—

Cybil and Zelda met Mr. Waterson in the Lenox Hill neighborhood on Saturday morning. It was, as he had described, a quiet area of the city where houses were well-kept and neighbors were respectable.

He was waiting for them on the corner of Third Avenue and Seventieth Street.

“Thank you so much for coming, ladies,” he said by way of greeting.

“We wouldn’t have missed this opportunity,” Zelda assured him. “I know it’s Cybil’s money that will make this possible, but I can’t help feeling excited to have a small part in it myself.”

“I’m sure your advice will be invaluable as we develop our program,” Mr. Waterson assured her.

He escorted them down Seventieth Street, chatting about Lenox Hill as they went. It really was a lovely area. Trees grew out of the patches of ground between the sidewalk and the cobblestone street. Flowers were just starting to poke up in window boxes and inside the wrought iron fences that marked the tiny yards in front of the town houses.

“I must apologize for the condition of the house,” Waterson said while they strolled down the street. “As I explained, the original owner died, and the current owner apparently lived abroad and didn’t bother to rent the property or even keep it in good repair. The neighbors will be thrilled when they see someone returning the house to its original condition.”