might
take a bit of doing--and all was well with the world.

There was only a tiny, nagging disturbing thought in his mind. It had to
do with Mike Fueyo and the Silent Spooks, and a lot of red Cadillacs.
But he pushed it resolutely away. It had nothing to do with the evening
he was about to spend. Nothing at all.

After all, this _was_ supposed to be a vacation, wasn't it?

"Well, Mr. Malone," Dorothy said, when the drinks had arrived.

"Very well indeed," Malone said, raising his. "And just call me Ken.
Didn't I tell you that once before?"

"You did," she said. "And I asked you to call me Dorothy. Not Dotty. Try
and remember that."

"I will remember it," Malone said, "just as long as ever I live. You
don't look the least bit dotty, anyhow. Which is probably more than
anybody could say for me." He started to look at himself in the bar
mirror again, and decided not to. "By the way," he added, as a sudden
thought struck him. "Dotty what?"

"Now," she said. "There you go doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Calling me that name."

"Oh," Malone said. "Make it Dorothy. Dorothy what?" He blinked. "I mean,
I know you've got a last name. Dorothy Something. Only it probably isn't
Something. What is it?"

"Francis," she said obligingly. "Dorothy Francis. My middle name is
Something, in case you ever want to call me by my middle name. Just
yell: 'Hey, Something,' and I'll come a-running. Unless I have something
else to do. In which case everything will be very simple: I won't come."

"Ah," Malone said doubtfully. "And what do--"

"What do I do?" she said. "A standard question. Number two of a series.
I do modeling. Photographic modeling. And that's not all--I also do
commercials on 3-D. If I look familiar to you, it's probably because
you've seen me on 3-D. Do I look familiar to you?"

"I never watch 3-D," Malone said, crestfallen.

"Fine," Dorothy said unexpectedly. "You have excellent taste."

"Well," Malone said, "it's just that I never seem to get the time--"

"Don't apologize for it," Dorothy said. "I have to appear on it, but I
don't have to like it. And, now that I've answered your questions, how
about answering some of mine?"

"Gladly," Malone said. "The inmost secrets of the FBI are yours for the
asking."

"Hm-m-m," Dorothy said slowly. "What do you do as an FBI agent, anyhow?
Dig up spies?"

"Oh, no," Malone said. "We've got enough trouble with the live ones. We
don't go around digging anybody up. Belie