Tina batted wide blue eyes at him. “Oh, Sam,” she breathed, ignoring the formality he had introduced, “oh, Sam, you have another client. I’m so glad. He looked a little sinister, but in such a distinguished manner that I was certain—”

“Who? Who looked a little sinister?”

“Why, your new client.” Sam had the uncomfortable feeling that she had almost added “stupid.” “When I came in this morning, there was this terribly tall old man in a long black overcoat talking to the elevator operator. He turned to me—the elevator operator, I mean—and said, ‘This is Mr. Weber’s secretary. She’ll be able to tell you anything you want to know.’ Then he sort of winked, which I thought was sort of impolite, you know, considering. Then this old man looked at me hard and I felt distinctly uncomfortable and he walked away muttering ‘Either disjointed or predatory personalities. Never normal. Never balanced.’ Which I didn’t think was very polite, either, I’ll have you know, if he is your new client!” She sat back and began breathing again.

Tall, sinister old men in long, black overcoats pumping the elevator operator about him. Hardly a matter of business. He had no skeletons in his personal closet. Could it be connected with his unusual Christmas present? Sam hummed mentally.

“—but she is my favorite aunt, you know,” Tina was saying. “And she came in so unexpectedly.”

The girl was explaining about their Christmas date. Sam felt a rush of affection for her as she leaned forward.

“Don’t bother,” he told her. “I knew you couldn’t help breaking the date. I was a little sore when you called me, but I got over it; never-hold-a-grudge-against-a-pretty-girl-Sam, I’m known as. How about lunch?”