"No. Ha-ha. Sh'off. S.H.O.Ah.F.F. Sh'off." "Shroff?" "Yes. Yes. Whiskey?" The Shroff led them to the bar, snapped his fingers at the bartender, then rapidly undid his immaculate tie and collar and opened his shirt. He displayed a livid bruise on his shoulder. "Las' Satuhday night," he beamed. "Me'y Kissmus p'esent f'om Hu-li." Lennox stared at the stout gentleman in amazement. "Hu-li?" he repeated. "Who he?" "You," the Shroff beamed. "Did he do that to you Saturday night?" Gabby asked. "Oh yes. Yes. Ha-ha." "Shame on you, Jordan," Gabby said reproachfully. "I swear I don't remember. I--Gabby, this, apparently, is my good friend, Mr. Stanley Fu, the Shroff. Mr. Fu, this, positively, is Miss Gabrielle Valentine." "G'eat pleasuh an' honnuh," the Shroff beamed. He shook hands with Gabby, then redid his shirt. "What's a Shroff, please?" Gabby asked. "Is it something I should know?" "Oh no. No, Issa Chinese p'ofesshun. Bankuh. Yes? Money changuh." "How do you mean?" "Oh yes. Silvuh into dolluh. 'Me'ican dolluh into Chinese dolluh. Papuh dolluh into silvuh." The Shroff transferred his attention to Lennox. "You put it all down. Inna liddy ole book when I te'l you Satuhday." "In this?" Lennox took out his gimmick book. "Yes. Yes." "I don't remember," Lennox said. "To tell the truth, Mr. Fu, I hardly remember Saturday night at all. That's why I'm here. It's a wonderful break meeting you again. Can you help me remember?" "Oh-ho?" The Shroff made a drinking gesture. "Yes?" "Yes." "Please tell us what happened Saturday night," Gabby said. "I'm worried about your bruise." The Shroff beamed at her. "Oh yes. Happen like this. My f'iend, Hu-li, come. Stan' next to me heah." The Shroff made the drinking gesture three times. "Mahtini." He made the gesture three times again and pointed to himself. "Scotch an' soda." "Shame on you both," Gabby said. The Shroff patted her arm fondly. "Wait a minute," Lennox said. "Some of it's coming back. Wasn't there a calendar up over the bar? Last year's with a fencing girl on it?" "Yes. Yes." The Shroff nodded quickly. "We talk about pictuh of liddy young lady with fff...." He looked helplessly at Lennox. "Foil?" "Yes. You te'l me you ah 'Me'ican fencuh." The Shroff pointed a finger and waggled it. "I te'l you I am Chinese fencuh." The Shroff suddenly crouched and lifted both arms as though poising a baseball bat. "We go togethuh an' fence." "We did?" "Yes. Like Chinese." The Shroff executed a lightning swipe with both hands, then chopped at his shoulder with the side of his palm. "You give me this. Ha-ha. You 'membuh?" Lennox shook his head. "Did I talk to anybody else at the bar before we left? A man named Knott?" "No. No othuh man." "Did you see anybody write in this notebook when I wasn't looking? Did I leave it around on the bar?" "Ah? Excuse me?" "We're trying to find someone who wrote something bad in that book, Mr. Fu," Gabby explained. "It happened last Saturday."