Martha stood in the living room by the picture window and harangued the crowd through a screened side panel. Centered in the window her spaniel Fiffalo writhed, hanging by a hind leg from the massive gilt floor lamp and yipping piteously. Martha had on her suit of gray Harris tweed and her diamond brooch. "... moral pressure the Russians simply _cannot_ resist," Stonery heard her shouting as he joined the crowd. "The men talk, but the United Dames of the Dog are not afraid to act. Putting a dear little dog on the moon to die of heart-break!" Several young men near the window scribbled on white pads. "How many members do you have, Mrs. Stonery?" one asked. "The U.D.D. is bigger than you think, young man. Bigger than the Russians think, for all their spies and traitors!" Stonery sidled in and tried the front door. "She locked it," one of the reporters told him. "The cops went back for a warrant. Say! You're Stonery!" "Yes," the thin man said, flushing. A press camera flashed and he put up his hands too late to shield his face. "Give us a statement, Mr. Stonery, before the cops come back," the reporters clamored. Stonery backed off, waving his hands. "Please, please," he said. "She cracked?" a reporter asked. "When did you first notice?" "Please," Stonery said. "Yes, she's upset. Her oldest son went into the state penitentiary in California last week. She's very upset about it." "He kill somebody?" the same reporter asked. "No, oh no ... just armed robbery ... please don't print that, boys." "Here come the cops back!" someone shouted. Two policemen crossed the lawn, one waving a paper. "Here is our warrant of forcible entry, Mrs. Stonery," he called out. He began reading it aloud. "The U.D.D. will not shrink from any extremes of police brutality," Martha cried sharply. Fiffalo struggled and yelped louder. The second policeman smashed the lock with a ten-pound sledge. The reporters swept Stonery into the house with them. One policeman untied Fiffalo and held him in his arms. He strained his head back and away from the spaniel's whimpering kisses. Martha glared selflessly while flash bulbs popped. Stonery pulled gently at the other policeman's sleeve. "May I come along, officer?" he asked. "I'm her husband. I'll have to arrange bail." "Not taking her," the policeman said. "No room left in the pokey. Since two o'clock we been arresting the dogs." * * * * * The bellboy put down the silver bucket of ice cubes, pocketed the quarter and went out. The skinny secretary put a bottle of whisky beside it and turned to that fat adjutant sprawled shoeless on the bed. "Looks like Governor Bob'll be a while yet, Sam," the secretary said. "Shall we drink without him?" "Hell yes, I need one, Dave," the adjutant said in his frog voice, wiggling his toes. "Bob must be having himself a time with that Stonery dame." He chuckled and slapped his belly.