The angry-looking man in the spade beard came back and set glasses and coasters in front of them. “Nyehh!” he announced, meaning, “You pay me now. That’s the way we do it in this place.” He took the money, glowered at it, at them, and clumped back to the becustomered bar.

“Well, what kind of contest are you looking for? If you tell me, I might be able to help. I know lots of little things about lots and lots of little things.”

“Oh, contests, prizes, nothing particular.” He glanced at the rear of the booth. There was a framed photograph on the wall of Plekhanov shaking hands with Kerensky. A tough younger version of the chunky, angry-looking man in the spade beard was standing on tiptoe behind Plekhanov, straining hard to get his face into the picture. Alfred realized he was wasting time and swallowed his drink unceremoniously. “I’ll have to be going.”

She cooed dismay. “So soon? When we’ve just met? And when I like you so much?”

“What do you mean you like me so much?” he asked her irritatedly. “When, to quote you, we’ve just met.”

“But I do like you, I do. You’re the cream in my coffee. You’re the top. You do things to me. You’re what makes the world go round. I’m nuts about you. I go for you in a big way, big boy. I’m wild, simply wild over you. I’d climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest river. Body and soul. Roses are red, violets are blue. Drink to me only with thine eyes. Oh, Johnny, oh-h-h! You’re in my heart and my heart’s on my sleeve.” She stopped and drew breath.

“Gah!” Alfred commented, his eyes almost popping. He started to get up. “Thanks, lady, for the pretty talk, but—”

Then he sat down again, his eyes reverting to their previous, pop-like state. The way she’d expressed herself when she’d wanted to make certain she was understood! Like Jane Doe, like Jones—

He’d established rendezvous!

“So that’s how much you like me?” he queried, fighting for time, trying to think out his next step.