One thing was quite clear at any rate. I had been a damn fool. But what a lot of trouble they had taken. I felt like a very small picture by an old master, surrounded by an enormous and ornate gilt frame—the kind of frame that is supposed to accentuate the importance of the picture. Framed. The word seemed hardly adequate for the Byzantine conspiracy that had enveloped me. I didn’t feel like a stooge so much as all three at once, rolled into one pitiful idiot whose face deserved to have been slapped and slapped again. I was the paw of the stupidest cat that ever sat beside a fire and a monkey and a handful of hot chestnuts.

“May I sit down?”

I looked up and realized that the redhead had won. She looked a little flushed, as if the competition for the pleasure of my company had been keen. Half standing, which was the way I was feeling, I smiled and then indicated the seat on the opposite side of my table. “Please,” I said. “Be my guest.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, bending sinuously into the booth. Hers was a better sinuous bend than anything that was happening on the Oriental’s pagodalike stage. “My name is Lilly. What’s yours?”

I almost laughed. My own Lilly Marlene. It was typical of a snapper to give herself a fancy name. There were times when I thought the only reason girls went walking a line was so they could give themselves a new Johanna. “Eric,” I said. “Would you like a drink, Lilly?” I beckoned the waiter toward me. He had Hindenburg’s mustache, Hitler’s blue eyes, and Adenauer’s personality. It was like being served by fifty years of German history. Lilly looked at the man with disdain.

“He’s already got a bottle, right?” The waiter nodded. “Then just bring another glass. And a brown bowl. Yes, a brown bowl.” The waiter nodded and went away without a word.

“You’re drinking coffee?” I said.

“I might have a small glass of cognac, but so long as you’ve ordered a bottle, I can drink what I like,” she said. “That’s the rule.” She smiled. “You don’t mind, do you? Saves you a little money. Nothing wrong with that, eh?”

“Nothing wrong with that at all,” I said.

“Besides, it’s been a long day. During the day I work in a shoe shop.”

“Which one?”

“I couldn’t tell you that,” she said. “You might come along and drop me in it.”

“I’d have to drop myself in it at the same time,” I said.

“True,” she said. “But it’s best you don’t know. Imagine the shock if you saw the real me, fetching shoes and measuring feet.”