A cry escaped before he could stop it.

"What is it? David? Are you all right? What's the matter?"

He was righting for control, his jaw set, brow contracted, blowing quick, short little breaths from his mouth.

Now, two hours later, he awoke again from his third brief doze. He was back in bed, in his pajamas, and Roake was sitting at his side, holding his hand. "You really ought to see a doctor," she said.

But he shook his head. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it. And nothing's broke."

"But you're hurt."

He started to shrug, then grimaced. "Tomorrow I'll be dancing. You wait." He put a hand to his neck and turned his head slowly from side to side a couple of times, then stopped and fixed her with a sheepish gaze. "I feel like such a fool."

"What for? You didn't ask for this."

"No. But I knew who I was dealing with. I should have been prepared. In the old days, I would have been."

"Prepared for Nick Sephia to knock you over?"

The old man, looking every year of his age, nodded wearily. "They set me up."

"How did they do that?"

"Child's play with a trusting soul like myself." He sighed in disgust. "I'd already had a few words with the elder Mr. Panos after Dismas beat the hell out of Sephia on the stand."

"What in the world prompted you to do that?"

"Hubris, plain and simple." Another sigh. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to crow a little, though I thought I'd done it subtly enough in the guise of giving him a friendly warning of what was coming."

Roake allowed a small smile. "Hence your nickname, Mr. Subtle."

"In any event, it didn't fool him much. So afterwards a bunch of their guys-Dick Kroll's there, too. You know Dick? Sephia's lawyer? And Panos and one of Nick's pals I'd seen in court with him before, some greaser. Anyway, all these guys are having some kind of powwow out in the hall. So Wade sees me come out with Hardy and motions to me over Nick's shoulder. Come on over."