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quantity.
    I struggled with it for a minute and then thought, there aren't that many possibilities. I can solve it by trial and error. I tried and erred several times, but in another minute I had the answer: The ship was 28 years old and the boiler was 21. I pressed the button again.
    "Yes?"
    I gave my answer. Something clicked. I tried the door and it swung open.

    Chapter 5 THE CASINO
    The inside had the appearance of a conventional house. The spacious living room was to the right of the entryway, where I stood. It was well furnished and the large picture window, visible from the outside, was on the front wall. A stairway to the second floor rose directly in front of me and a corridor led toward the back of the house, with several closed doors along it.
    Nobody was in sight. However, I heard music coming from somewhere, and the gravelly voice of Louie Armstrong, singing, "Hello, Dolly." Was I expected to know where to go? Ned would know. I headed along the corridor, walking on the hardwood floor, toward the sound of the music.
    I came to a stairway heading down, directly beneath the other one. The music wafted up from below. Just as I turned to go down these stairs a young man appeared at the bottom. He was in his twenties, clean-cut, short hair, wearing a suit, white shirt and tie. The kind of person my father would hire.
    As I descended the stairs I looked over the polished wooden banister and a large room appeared before me, encompassing most of the dimensions of the house. Louie's voice became louder, singing some of the words and scatting the rest of the time.
    In addition to the music, I heard the hum of the conversations of several dozen men and women, who were engaged in playing games. A craps table dominated the center of the room and a blackjack table and roulette wheel stood near it. At another table people played poker and others played chess and backgammon.
    Two things distinguished this from the casinos I was familiar with: There were no slot machines and there was no cigarette smoke in the air. The customers were well dressed and an aura of affluence emanated from them. I felt underdressed for the second time that day without a tie, even though I was now wearing a sport coat.
    I immediately experienced the familiar excitement of being in the presence of gambling. The urge to feel the cards or dice in my hands, the certainty that this was my lucky night—it all came back in a flash. I mentally reviewed the contents of my wallet—about 60 dollars—and wondered how one got started since Ned had said no money changed hands.
    In the next instant I told myself harshly that I was here to do a job and nothing else would get in the way. Then I reached the bottom of the stairs.
    "My name is Stan," the young man said, sticking out his hand.
    I shook hands with him, wondering how many hands I had shaken since morning. I almost said my own name, remembered I wasn't myself, hesitated, and ended up mumbling, "Pleased to meet you."
    "Mr. Buchanan would like to speak with you," Stan said, leading the way to a door underneath the stairs.
    I had a moment of panic as I realized that Mr. Buchanan would know I wasn't Ned Mackay, but I should have thought of that before. Stan opened the door and motioned me in ahead of him.
    The small room I entered had a sloping ceiling over part of it, caused by the stairway it was under. It was dimly lit and a number of television monitors were being watched by young men who were clones of Stan in dress and appearance. None of them appeared to be older than 30.
    I glanced at several of the monitors and realized I had been correct in assuming that I was being watched. They were all connected to surveillance cameras, not only outside the house, but looking down on the tables in the casino room, also. The latter monitors were undoubtedly to catch cheaters.
    Stan closed the door and walked past me to a man who sat on a high stool behind the men in front of the monitors. From his vantage point he