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gratitude…”
    “I’m sure she’s happy you’re safe and sound,” Leslie said. “Comparatively speaking.” She permitted herself a little smile. “That’s reward enough.” She looked at Strand, her eyes wet. “What do you know about our baby girl?” she whispered.
    “More than I knew twenty minutes ago,” Strand said. He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Someone was trembling, but he didn’t know whether it was Leslie or himself.
    “Did you call the police?” Jimmy demanded.
    Hazen laughed flatly. “The police? In this city? I’m a lawyer, James. What could they do?”
    I guessed right, Strand thought. Lawyer.
    Hazen started to push himself up from the chair. “I’ve kept you from your dinner long enough. Now, I’d better be getting ho—” He staggered and sat down, hard, a puzzled look on his face. “Perhaps another few minutes of rest,” he said in a choked voice.
    “You stay right here,” Leslie said, “until the doctor comes.”
    “Perhaps,” Hazen said weakly, “it might be advisable. If you don’t mind.”
    “Do you want me to call your home,” Strand asked, “and tell them where you are and that you’ll be home later?”
    “No matter,” Hazen said. “Nobody’s expecting me. I’m alone for the weekend.” His voice sounded cold and distant as he spoke.
    He had trouble at home, Strand thought, as well as in the park. “I was just having a drink before dinner when you came in,” he said. “I think you could use a drink, too.”
    “Thank you. That would be useful.”
    “Straight? Or with water? All we have is Scotch.” He didn’t mention the sherry. After what Hazen had been through, Strand doubted that sherry would do much good.
    “Straight, please,” Hazen said, leaning his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes.
    “Better pour a whiskey for me, too,” Leslie said as Strand started toward the dining room.
    The phone rang in the hallway as he was pouring the drinks. He left the glasses on the sideboard to answer it. It was Dr. Prinz, irritated. He stopped sounding irritated when Strand told him briefly what had happened and he said he’d come over as soon as he could, he was with a patient who had just had a heart attack and it might take some time.
    When Strand came back with the drinks Leslie said, “Jimmy’s gone downstairs to get Alexander to lock the bicycle in the cellar for the night.” Strand nodded. It would be foolish to have it stolen now.
    Hazen was still sitting with his head back and his eyes closed. “Here we are,” Strand said, hoping his voice sounded cheerful. “A little bit of Highland sunlight.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Hazen opened his eyes and took the glass in his good hand. Nobody offered a toast and Hazen finished his drink in two gulps. Leslie drank hers quickly, too, and then sat down as if she suddenly had realized how tired she was.
    “I feel the stirrings of life,” Hazen said wanly.
    “Another?” Strand said.
    “Thank you, no. This was all that was needed.”
    Mrs. Curtis came in, looking pecky, as Leslie described her mood when things were not going her way. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said, looking sternly at the bandaged man in the wooden armchair, “the soup’s on and everything’ll be ruined if…”
    “We’re waiting for the doctor, Mrs. Curtis,” Leslie said. “I’ll tell you when…”
    “If you don’t mind having a scarecrow at the table while you eat,” Hazen said. “I would appreciate it if you’d let me sit with you while you…”
    “I think it would be wiser if…” Leslie started.
    “Maybe Mr. Hazen’s hungry,” Strand said. He himself was hungry and he had been looking forward to dinner ever since he had come home and smelled the aroma from the kitchen.
    “Come to think of it, I am hungry,” Hazen said. “I had just a sandwich at my desk for lunch. I certainly would enjoy a bowl of soup, if it’s not too much trouble.”
    “All right, Mrs. Curtis,” Leslie