A telephone rang. The duty officer snapped up the middle one, which someone had marked as foremost with an urgent slash of showgirl's lip rouge. "Yes, sir, Mr. Van Dorn! ... Yes, sir! He's here ... Yes, sir! I'll tell him. Good-bye, Mr. Van Dorn."

The duty officer, cradling the earpiece, said to Isaac Bell, "Mr. Van Dorn says if you don't leave the office this minute, you're fired."

They fled the Knickerbocker.

Archie Abbott, ever the proud tour guide, pointed out the two-story yellow facade of Rector's Restaurant as they headed up Broadway. He took particular note of a huge statue out front. "See that griffin?"

"Hard to miss."

"It's guarding the greatest lobster palace in the whole city!"

LILLIAN HENNESSY LOVED MAKING her entrance at Rector's. Sweeping past the griffin on the sidewalk, ushered into an enormous green-and-yellow wonderland of crystal and gold brilliantly lit by giant chandeliers, she felt what it must be like to be a great and beloved actress. The best part was the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that let everyone in the restaurant see who was entering the revolving door.

Tonight, people had stared at her beautiful golden gown, gaped at the diamonds nestled about her breasts, and whispered about her astonishingly handsome escort. Or, to use Marion Morgan's term, her unspeakably handsome escort. Too bad it was only Senator Kincaid, still tirelessly courting her, still hoping to get his hands on her fortune. How much more exciting it would be to walk in here with a man like Isaac Bell, handsome but not pretty, strong but not brutish, rugged but not rough.

"A penny for your thoughts," said Kincaid.

"I think we should finish our lobsters and get to the show... Oh, hear the band... Anna Held's coming!"

The restaurant's band always played a Broadway actress's new hit when she entered. The song was "I Just Can't Make My Eyes Behave."

Lillian sang along in a sweet voice in perfect pitch,

In the northeast corner of my face,

and the northeast corner of the self-same place...

There she was, the French actress Anna Held, with her tiny waist shown off by a magnificent green gown much longer than she wore on stage, wreathed in smiles and flashing her eyes.

"Oh, Charles, this is so exciting. I'm glad we came."

Charles Kincaid smiled at the astonishingly rich girl leaning across the tablecloth and suddenly realized how truly young and innocent she was. He would bet money that she'd learned the tricks she played with her beautiful eyes by studying Held's every gesture. Very effectively too, he had to admit, as she gave him a well-practiced up-from-under blaze of pale blue.

He said, "I'm so glad you telephoned."

"The Follies are back," she answered blithely. "I had to come. Who wants to go to a show alone?"