"Hullo, sweetheart," he said exuberantly. "How's things? I refer to Charles Addams Things, of course." "Oh--Colin." Her voice was very small, and it trembled. "Look, I've got two tickets to _H. M. S. Pinafore_. So put on your own pinafore and meet me." "Colin--I'm sorry, Colin. I can't." "Huh?" He noticed how odd she sounded, and a leadenness grew within him. "You aren't sick, are you?" "Colin, I--I'm going to be married." "_What?_" "Yes. I'm in love now; really in love. I'll be getting married in a couple of months." "But--but--" "I didn't want to hurt you." He heard her begin to cry. "But who--how--" "It's Matthew," she gulped. "Matthew Snyder." He sat quiet for a long while, until she asked if he was still on the line. "Yeah," he said tonelessly. "Yeah, I'm still here, after a fashion." Shaking himself: "Look, I've got to see you. I want to talk to you." "I can't." "You sure as hell can," he said harshly. They met at a quiet little bar which had often been their rendezvous. She watched him with frightened eyes while he ordered martinis. "All right," he said at last. "What's the story?" "I--" He could barely hear her. "There isn't any story. I suddenly realized I loved Matt. That's all." "_Snyder!_" He made it a curse. "Remember what you told me about him before?" "I felt different then," she whispered. "He's a wonderful man when you get to know him." _And rich._ He suppressed the words and the thought. "What's so wonderful specifically?" he asked. "He--" Briefly, her face was rapt. Fraser had seen her looking at him that way, now and then. "Go on," he said grimly. "Enumerate Mr. Snyder's good qualities. Make a list. He's courteous, cultured, intelligent, young, handsome, amusing--To hell! _Why_, Judy?" "I don't know," she said in a high, almost fearful tone. "I just love him, that's all." She reached over the table and stroked his cheek. "I like you a lot, Colin. Find yourself a nice girl and be happy." His mouth drew into a narrow line. "There's something funny here," he said. "Is it blackmail?" "No!" She stood up, spilling her drink, and the flare of temper showed him how overwrought she was. "He just happens to be the man I love. That's enough out of you, good-bye, Mr. Fraser." He sat watching her go. Presently he took up his drink, gulped it barbarously, and called for another. 2 Juan Martinez had come from Puerto Rico as a boy and made his own way ever since. Fraser had gotten to know him in the army, and they had seen each other from time to time since then. Martinez had gone into the private-eye business and made a good thing of it; Fraser had to get past a very neat-looking receptionist to see him. "Hi, Colin," said Martinez, shaking hands. He was a small, dark man, with a large nose and beady black eyes that made him resemble a sympathetic mouse. "You look like the very devil." "I feel that way, too," said Fraser, collapsing into a chair. "You can't go on a three-day drunk without showing it."