d suit was wandering around the stage with an unlit
cigar in his hand, begging the stagehands for a match.

"Hey, fellas!" Homer Bradshaw called to the men at the piano. "Run
through that _Gypsy_ number for Mr. Blacker, huh?"

They came to life like animated dolls. The tallest of the pair stepped
in front of the stage while the other thumped the piano keys. The tall
one sang in a loud nasal voice, with an abundance of gestures.

"_Gypsy!
Gypsy!
Why do you have to be a gypsy?
Life could be so ipsy-pipsy
Staying home and getting tipsy
Safe on Earth with me!_"

He swung into the second chorus while Tom Blacker kept his face from
showing his true opinion of the specialty number. The next offering
didn't change his viewpoint. It was a ballad. A blonde girl in clinging
black shorts sang it feelingly.

"_There's a beautiful Earth tonight
With a beautiful mellow light
Shining on my spaceman in the moon.
Why did he leave me?
Only to grieve me?
Spaceman, come home to me soon ..._"

"Did you like it? Did you like it?" Homer Bradshaw said eagerly.

"It'll do fine," Tom Blacker said, with his teeth clenched.

* * * * *

When he left the theatre, Tom visiphoned the office to tell Livia that
he was taking the rest of the day off. But he found that Livia herself
was spending the day in her two-room apartment downtown. He hung up, and
decided that he had to talk to her about Stinson's visit. He hopped a
cab, and gave him Livia's address.

John Andrusco answered the door.

"Well! Thought you were at the office, Tom?"

He found himself glaring at the lean-jawed executive. What was Andrusco
doing here?

"I've been over at the theatre," Tom explained. "Watching that musical
we're spending all that dough on." He stepped inside. "I might say the
same about you, Mr. Andrusco."

"Me? Oh, I just came to talk over some business with Livia. Poor kid's
not feeling so hot, you know."

"No, I didn't." He dropped his hat familiarly on the contour couch, with
almost too much deliberation. "Livia in bed?"

"No." The girl appeared at the door of the bedroom, wrapping a
powder-blue negligee around her. "What brings you here, Tom?"

"I--I wanted to talk something over with you. Now that you're here, Mr.
Andrusco, we can _all_ talk it over."

"What's that?" Andrusco made himself at home at the bar.

"It's about Walt Spencer. I had a visitor last night