so. Claude was at the end of
the bar. Patrick approached him. "Hey, Claude."

"Patrick."

"Claude, I've got to go to Kingston."

"Some people have all the luck."

"My landlady got taken to the hospital. Do you know where the hospital
is?"

"Benedictine or Kingston?"

"Are there two? I don't know. Kingston, I guess." Claude gave him
directions to both. "I don't have a car," Patrick said. Claude looked
at him.

"Can you drive?"

"Yes." Claude reached in his pocket and handed Patrick a set of keys.

"It's that '56 Ford pickup out there--the black one with the wood
rack."

"Thanks, Claude. What are you going to do?"

"Ahh . . . " Claude glanced around the room and smiled. "We shall see,
mon ami. Leave it behind Mower's when you're done, why don't you. Put
the keys under the seat. I'll get it in the morning."

"O.K." Patrick left and started up the truck. Three minutes later he
was passing the golf course, heading for Kingston on Route 375.
Kingston hospital was easy to find, but Gert wasn't there. He drove
into the general area where he thought he'd find the Benedictine,
trying to remember Claude's directions. He was about to stop and ask
when he saw it on a hill. Gert had been admitted.

Patrick explained the situation and was allowed to see her, but only
for a minute or two. She was pale and looked fragile. An oxygen tube
crossed her face below her nose. Patrick went up close.

"Hi, Gert." She raised her eyebrows in greeting and whispered something
he couldn't hear. He bent closer.

"Call Ginger."

Patrick nodded and said, "I will." Ginger was her niece. She lived in
St. Louis.

"Patrick."

"Yes?"

"That chest--treasure chest--don't let her see it . . . Mine . . . "

"O.K., Gert, O.K. I'll take care of it. But, you'll be home soon." She
smiled faintly and shook her head no.

"My love . . . " she whispered. For a moment she looked young.

"I'll take care of it, Gert." She nodded and closed her eyes. Patrick
left, stepping carefully around monitors. He thanked the nurse and went
out to the parking lot. It was still light. An ambulance pulled up to
an admissions door. It didn't seem right that things outside should be
so normal.

He sat unmoving for five minutes and then realized that he was hungry.
The Park Diner was on the way out of Kingston, heading towards
Woodstock. When Patrick was upset, he ate to settle himself down. He
had a steak sandwich, apple pie, and coffee. He was still in sho