“Well, yeah, you’ve got to expect that, but bookies lay their bets off with people who can afford to take the losses.”

“Yes, Herbie, and the people they lay them off with are called the Mafia. You’ve had some experiences with them.”

“I remember.”

“Do you remember that you’re lucky to be alive after those experiences?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Herbie, there are all sorts of downsides to running a book; taking big losses and dealing with the Mafia are only two of them. For instance, remember how you were worried about your reputation when Jack Gunn seemed to be in a lot of trouble?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I think Jack Gunn would be very worried about his reputation if it became known that he had a son-in-law who was a bookie.”

Herbie thought about that for a moment.

“That might make things very uncomfortable for you with your new wife and her family.”

“Maybe I should talk to Stephanie about that,” Herbie said.

“If I were you, I would forget the whole thing and not even mention it to Stephanie. If she starts hearing things like that from you, she’s going to start wondering if she married the right guy.”

“You think?”

“I think,” Stone replied.

Herbie thanked him and left.

Another disaster, hopefully, averted, Stone thought.

EIGHTEEN

Stone was having a sandwich at his desk when Adele Lansdown called.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m very well, thanks; haven’t changed since this morning.”

“I know it’s short notice, but I wonder if you could come to dinner at my house this evening?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Some old friends from out of town are here, and I’ve invited my nephew David and his girlfriend, too.”

“What time?”

“Seven-thirty, and don’t dress up; no necktie required.”

“All right.”

“There’s something you should know that might affect you. I’ll tell you about it when we’re alone.”

“Sounds mysterious. I’ll see you then,” Stone replied, and hung up.

Stone, who was, by habit, compulsively on time, forced himself not to leave his house until seven-thirty, so that he could be fashionably late. He hailed a taxi on Third Avenue, and what with traffic, he got out of the cab and crossed Park Avenue, then presented himself at the downstairs desk at seven forty-five, entering the building just ahead of a handsome couple who had gotten out of a cab. As it turned out, they were also expected at Adele’s.

Stone gave his name to the doorman, who called upstairs, then turned and introduced himself to the couple.

“We’re Ben and Ann Wharton,” the man said, and they all shook hands.

The man in charge of the desk hung up the telephone, then dialed the number again. “I’m not getting a reply from Mrs. Lansdown,” he said. “You say she was expecting you?”

“Yes,” Stone replied, and the Whartons said so, as well.