“I’m the idea, I suppose,” Chris said, quietly.

“Partly. But this is real old melodrama, it’s like the stuff in those books I used to read out of my grandmother’s bookcase when I went to visit her in Sausalito. The rich old bastard and the young district attorney and the beauteous maiden. Old-timy books left over from Theodore Roosevelt’s Big Stick days. Robber Barons.”

Bridie’s protest now hurtled through the winter air like the warning screech of a locomotive when a cow is on the track. Ott laid a placating hand on her knee. “They’re grooming young Bay for the big-time race. He is supposed to spend some time in the Territory because they aim to have him appointed Governor of Alaska. Youth, see, in the saddle.” Then, as Bridie again opened her mouth, “Now wait a minute. You haven’t heard the half. A couple of years is all, he resigns on some excuse, then he’s back in Seattle and they run him for Congress. Then Senator. Then, by the time he’s maybe forty or forty-five, he’s candidate for the first President of the United States to come out of the Great Neglected Northwest Empire.” He leaned forward to clear Bridie’s furred expanse and stared hard at the silent girl at the wheel. “You think she’ll run the White House O.K., Chris? All those lovely state dinners? And the Easter egg rolling? Couple of years now I noticed they’ve dropped that egg rolling, it’s a damn shame—–”

Bridie found voice again. “Fine time to be telling us, Ott Decker. I won’t forget this in a hurry. And for Chris—–”

“I tell you I didn’t get wind of it until half an hour ago when I was calling the Ice Palace. I found out Dave Husack wasn’t staying at Czar’s house this time, the way he usually does. So I got the manager’s office and Goomer says they’ve reserved the four rooms they call the Governor’s suite on the top floor, no less …”

“Four,” Chris said, quietly. “That’s a bedroom for old Dave, one for Bay, and a sitting room. And a bedroom, leave us piously hope, for her.”

“I knew it!” Bridie crowed. “I had a hunch this morning early something stinking was on the fire. I just thought I’d go up and check the Ice Palace V.I.P. suite. I knew Sid Kleet alone didn’t rate it, even with that Distelhorst along, and Husack generally always stays at Czar’s place. The minute I laid eyes on it I smelled something funny. Sitting room, three bedrooms, dressing room in the big one, two baths, flowers in vases and the refrigerator chugging as if they had a whale in there. Whose coming rates that, I said to myself. Who gives Dave Husack flowers? I’d as soon give flowers to a Kodiak bear. The bridal suite if I ever saw it. But who’s the bride, I said.”

They were in sight of the airport now, a gay toy in a sparkling white setting, dotted with other tiny silver-bright toys.