Part 63 (1/2)

He thought of the warm body huddled inside those extra layers of clothes. He thought of the protectiveness he felt toward her, despite the fact that he knew she could probably protect herself better than he could himself.

She leaned to him and kissed him softly on the cheek.

”I'm glad you believe me she said.

”Mr. Zenger's going to say I'm an impostor. I wanted to know if you would stick by me. No matter what.”

”I'm unshakable' he said.

She hugged him suddenly, almost spilling both cups of tea. On the other side of the grimy gray window, with rain spattering into small rivers on the opposite side, the outline of Nantucket harbor was slowly becoming visible through the fog.

Then she pulled away for a moment.

”And what would you do with it?” she asked.

”With what?”

”The money. Your share if we win?”

”I'd go off and get lost,” he said.

”With someone I liked.”

Their car had emerged from the hull of the ferry, had driven to the remote southwestern end of the island, and had pulled to a halt before the stone domicile of Zenger.

The hour was late, well past eight in the evening. The windows of the stone house blazed warmly from within. Thomas and Leslie walked up the flagstone path as the rain, carried on sweeping easterly winds, continued to pelt them.

Mrs. Clancy, the housekeeper, was gone for the evening. So when Thomas banged the bra.s.s knocker on the solid oak door, almost two full minutes pa.s.sed before there came any response.

”But today?”

Then the door slowly opened and the light from within flowed out in a sudden wedge.

”Thomas'” rasped Zenger, standing in the alcove, holding the door ajar.

”I've been expecting-” His eyes. .h.i.t Leslie, unseen until that moment.

”Good evening, Mr. Zenger,” she said with both civility and charm.

Zenger recoiled rudely, stepping backward two steps into a darker spot in the hallway. His eyes were in a shadow and Leslie stepped forward with some effort to see him.

He reached to the breast pocket of his maroon robe, pulled from the pocket a pair of heavily tinted gla.s.ses, and seemed to study her through them. Thomas observed him with rising suspicion and dislike.

She, in turn, returned the scrutiny, looking him up and down and trying to see past the gla.s.ses to his eyes.

”Yes” said Zenger slowly, as if in appraisal.

”This is the woman you spoke of last time ” He glanced to Thomas, then back to Leslie with disdain.

”The one calling herself Sandler's daughter.”