She smiled and shook her head. “We’re covered there.”

He knocked on the walnut desktop to take the curse off her flat statement. She could spot him fifty points on a comparative IQ, but he’d been around the business long enough to know that sometimes people didn’t behave logically or predictably, especially if they happened to be a little eccentric to start with.

She went on, “Mike Shayne-now there’s a paper tiger if I ever saw one. We didn’t come off too badly the last time we tangled with him.”

“I’m glad you think so, baby,” Begley said sourly. “We came out with our skin. Barely. Three people retired early, one company paid a ten-thousand-buck fine, and Shayne knocked down a large fee.”

“And the word-of-mouth got us the United States account. And dear God, was he lucky. That sort of a run can’t go on forever. Stop thinking about last time, Hal. You can handle this man with one thumb and one forefinger. I want to brief you on the rest of the guests. Forbes Hallam, the president. He probably won’t impress you, but bear in mind that E. J. Despard was doing an annual business of less than half a million dollars when he took over, and you know where they are now. Forbes Hallam, Jr.-he has a literary act. Commerce is beneath him and Henry James is his favorite writer. You might try to remember that. Walter Langhorne-the point to bear in mind there is that he and Mr. Hallam have come up together through the company, but they’re very different types. There are all sorts of undercurrents. Jose Despard-Hallam’s wife was his sister. Head of Research and Development, apparently not much between the ears. It’s his family’s old firm and he has a sizeable stock position. Richardson and Hall are two more vice-presidents. Richardson-”

Begley, on the other side of the desk, tried to concentrate on what she was saying as she continued down the list. It was hard to do because of his rising panic.