"No. Why--?" "Something kind of important's come up, and it's down his alley. Do you know where he is? What time did he leave here?" "He left at two-thirty. Said he had to see the Blairs. Maybe you can get him there." "Thanks, I'll try. Honey--I--ah, have a good game." He hung up. Two-thirty. Well, that was all right. Half an hour after Ted had left. Half an hour, half an hour, half an hour.... He poured a drink. * * * * * Half an hour, half an hour, half an hour.... He went out onto the porch. The blonde was on her patio, all dressed up in filmy green. Another blonde sat in the chair near her, male, with sport jacket and tanned face, with a drink in his hand. Hamilton's work? Hamilton came scrambling down the nutmeg tree. "Still hot?" "Go away." Hamilton looked down at the patio and back at Ted. "Her cousin from Milwaukee. Henri's making the trip, tonight." "For the blonde?" "Don't be naive." "If you're inferring that my wife, my Ann is going--" "I only said Henri's making the trip. Maybe, just in hope. But how in hell will you ever know? Unless you're there, yourself?" "I'm not going anywhere," Ted said. "You can look for another stooge, Lucifer. I love my wife...." For seconds, Hamilton stared at Ted with those beady, black eyes. Then, "You're serious, aren't you. You're leveling?" "I'm serious." Hamilton looked at the nutmeg tree. "Oh, Truesdale, if you knew the story. If you knew what this meant." He started up the tree, and paused. "Well, there are others, plenty of them." He went quickly up the rest of the way. Ted didn't even glance at the blonde, again, before going back into the house. He put some Cole Porter on the record player and sat by the fireplace. Honolulu and Houston and _Sweeney's_ and the country club merged in his mind as the whiskey drowsiness started to creep through him. He couldn't go to sleep, not before Ann came home. He had some things to tell her. Before _she_ went to sleep. Ann, Ann, thirty minutes, Ann, oh beloved darling.... The last record finished and shut off the machine. Ted dreamed of homering in the ninth, against Louisville, with the bases loaded. He woke to a black room. Had Ann come in, not seen him in the living room, and gone to bed? Ann, no. Ann, be awake. Ann, you wouldn't like Venus--without me. I hope. Ann.... He stumbled out into the hall, and looked up the steps. No lights there, either. He ran up the stairs, whimpering, and through the dressing room into her room. He snapped on the big overhead light. She was asleep. Asleep--and smiling. He was shaking her. He was sobbing, burying his wet face in her shoulder, trembling and incoherent. "Ted, baby, what is the matter? What's happened, darling?"