“The old lady with the cane?”
“No, the girl with the bright hair.”
“Doggone me,” muttered the sheriff.
“Well, let’s saunter down that way.”
He waved to Terence, who, casting a black glance in
the direction of Mr. Gainor, went off to execute Elizabeth’s
errand. Plainly Elizabeth had won the first engagement,
but Vance was still confident. The dinner table
would tell the tale.
Elizabeth left the ordering of the guests at the table
to Vance, and she consulted him about it as they went
into the dining room. It was a long, low-ceilinged
room, with more windows than wall space. It opened
onto a small porch, and below the porch was the garden
which had been the pride of Henry Cornish. Beside
the tall glass doors which led out onto the porch
she reviewed the seating plans of Vance. “You
at this end and I at the other,” he said.
“I’ve put the sheriff beside you, and right
across from the sheriff is Nelly. She ought to
keep him busy. The old idiot has a weakness for
pretty girls, and the younger the better, it seems.
Next to the sheriff is Mr. Gainor. He’s
a political power, and what time the sheriff doesn’t
spend on you and on Nelly he certainly will give to
Gainor. The arrangement of the rest doesn’t
matter. I simply worked to get the sheriff well-pocketed
and keep him under your eye.”
“But why not under yours, Vance? You’re
a thousand times more diplomatic than I am.”
“I wouldn’t take the responsibility, for,
after all, this may turn out to be a rather solemn
occasion, Elizabeth.”
“You don’t think so, Vance?”
“I pray not.”
“And where have you put Terence?”
“Next to Nelly, at your left.”
“Good heavens, Vance, that’s almost directly
opposite the sheriff. You’ll have them
practically facing each other.”
It was the main thing he was striving to attain.
He placated her carefully.
“I had to. There’s a danger.
But the advantage is huge. You’ll be there
between them, you might say. You can keep the
table talk in hand at that end. Flash me a signal
if you’re in trouble, and I’ll fire a question
down the table at the sheriff or Terry, and get their
attention. In the meantime you can draw Terry
into talk with you if he begins to ask the sheriff
what you consider leading questions. In that way,
you’ll keep the talk a thousand leagues away
from the death of Black Jack.”
He gained his point without much more trouble.
Half an hour later the table was surrounded by the
guests. It was a table of baronial proportions,
but twenty couples occupied every inch of the space
easily. Vance found himself a greater distance
than he could have wished from the scene of danger,
and of electrical contact.
At least four zones of cross-fire talk intervened,
and the talk at the farther end of the table was completely
lost to him, except when some new and amazing dish,
a triumph of Wu Chi’s fabrication, was brought
on, and an appreciative wave of silence attended it.
