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'That fire isn't going to help us, but I'll see what I can do,' said Fenton, sounding far more positive than Abel had expected. 'At the time you bought twenty-five per cent of the group's shares from Miss Leroy I told you that'l thought the hotels were a valuable asset and that you'd make a good deal. Despite the crash I see no reason to change my mind about that, Mr. Rosnovski. I've watched you running your own hotel for nearly two years now, and I'd back you if the decision were left to me personally, but I fear my bank would never agree to support the Richmond Group. We've seen the financial results for far too long to have any faith in the group's future, and that fire was the last straw, if you'll pardon the expression. Nevertheless, I do have some outside contacts and I'll see if they can do anything to help. You probably have more admirers in this city than you realise, Mr. Rosnovski.'

After Lieutenant O'Malley's comments Abel had wondered if he had any friends left in Chicago at all. He thanked Curtis Fenton, returned to the front desk of the bank and asked a teller for five thousand dollars in cash from the hotel account. He spent the rest of the morning in the Richmond annex. He gave every member of his staff two week's wages and told them they could stay on at the annex for at least a month or until they had found new jobs. He then returned to the Stevens, packed the new clothes he'd had to buy as a result of the fire and prepared for a tour of the rest of the Richmond hotels.

He drove the Buick he'd bought just before the stock market crash down south first and started with the St Louis Richmond. The trip around all the hotels in the group took nearly a month and although they were run down and, without exception, losing money, none of them was, in Abel's view, a hopeless case. They all had good locations; some were even the best-placed in the city. Old man Leroy must have been a shrewder man than his son, thought Abel. He checked every hotel insurance policy carefully; no problems there. When he finally reached the Dallas Richmond, he was certain of only one thing: that anyone who managed to buy the group for two million would be making himself a good deal. He wished that he could be given the chance, as he knew exactly what had to be done to make the group profitable.

On his return to Chicago, nearly four weeks later, he checked into the Stevens, where there were several messages awaiting him. Lieutenant O'Malley wished to contact him, so did William Kane, Curtis Fenton, and a Mr. Henry Osborne.

Abel started with the law, and after a short phone conversation with O'Malley, agreed to meet him at the cafe on Michigan Avenue. Abel sat on a high stool, with his back to the counter, staring at the charred shell of the Richmond Hotel, while he waited for the lieutenant. O'Malley was a few minutes late, but he did not bother to apologise as he took the next stool and swivelled around to face Abel.

'Why do we keep meeting like this?' asked Abel.

'You owe me a favour,' said the lieutenant, 'and nobody in Chicago gets away with owing O'Malley a milk shake.'

Abel ordered two, one giant, one regular.

'What did you find out?' asked Abel as he passed the detective two red and white striped straws.

'The boys from the fire department were right, it was arson okay. We've arrested a guy called Desmond Pacey, who turns out to be the old manager at the Richmond. That was in your time, right?'

'I'm afraid it was,' said Abel.

'Why do you say that?' asked the lieutenant.

'I had Pacey fired for embezzling the hotel's receipts. He said he'd get even with me if it was the last thing he did. I didn't pay any attention. I've had too many threats in my life, Lieutenant, to take any one of them that seriously, especially from a creature like Pacey.'

'Well, I have to tell you that we've taken him seriously, and so have the insurance people, because I'm told they're not paying out one penny until it's proved there was no collusion between you and Pacey over the fire.'

'That's all I need at the moment,' said Abel. 'How can you be so certain it's Pacey?'

'We traced him to the casualty ward at the local hospital, the same day as the fire. A routine check asking the hospital to let us know if anyone had come in that day with severe burns. By chance - which is so often the case in police work since we're not all born to be Sherlock Holmes.- a sergeant's wife who had been a waitress at the Richmond told us that he used to be the manager. even I can put those two and two's together. The guy came clean pretty quick, didn't seem that interested in being caught, only in pulling off what he called his own St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Until a few moments ago I wasn't sure what the object of that revenge was, but I sure know now; though I'm not too surprised. So that just about wraps the case up, Mr. Rosnovski.'

The lieutenant sucked on his straw until the gurgling sound convinced him he had drained the last drop.

'Have another milk shake?'

'No, I'll give this one a miss. I've got a heavy day ahead of me.' He got clown from the stool. 'Good luck, Mr. Rosnovski. If you can prove to the insurance boys you had no involvement with Pacey, you'll get your money. I'll do everything I can to help when the case reaches court. Keep in touch.'

Abel watched him disappear through the door. He gave the waitress a dollar and walked out on to the pavement staring into space, a space where the Richmond Hotel had been less than a month ago. Then he turned and strolled back to the Stevens deep in thought.

There was another message from Henry Osborne, still leaving no clue as to who he was. There was only one way to find out. Abel called Osborne, who turned out to be a claims inspector with the Great Western Casualty Insurance Company with whom the hotel had their policy. Abel made an appointment to see the man at noon. He then called William Kane in Boston and gave him a report on the hotels he had visited in the group.

'And may I say again, Mr. Kane, that I could turn those hotels' losses Into profits if your bank would give me the time and the backing. What I did in Chicago I know I can do for the rest of the group.'

'Possibly you could, Mr. Rosnovski, but I fear it will not be with Kane and Cabot's money. May I remind you that you have only five days left in which to find a backer. Good day sir.'

'YN; League snob,' said Abel into the deaf telephone. 'I'm not classy enough for your money, am I? Some day, you bastard. . .'

The next item on Abel's agenda was the insurance man. Henry Osborne turned out to be a tall good-looking man with dark eyes and a mop of dark hair just turning grey. Abel found his easy manner congenial. Osborne had little to add to Lieutenant O'Malley's story. The Great Western Casualty Insurance Company had no intention of paying any part of the claim, while the police were pressing for a charge of arson against Desmond Pacey, and until it was proved that Abel himself was in no way involved. Henry Osborne seemed to be very understanding about the whole problem.

'Has the Richmond group enough money to rebuild the hotel?' asked Osborne.

'Not a red cent,' said Abel. "The rest of the group is mortgaged up to the hilt, and the bank is pressing me to sell.'

'Why you?' said Osborne.

Abel explained how he had come to own the group's shares without actually owning the hotels. Henry Osborne was somewhat surprised.

'Surely the bank can see for themselves how well you ran that hotel? Every businessman in Chicago is aware you were the first manager ever to make a profit for Davis Leroy. I know the banks are groing through hard times, but even they ought to know when to make an exception for their own good.'

'Not this bank.'

'Continental Trust?' said Osborne. 'I've always found old Curtis Fenton a bit starchy but amenable enough.'

'It's not Continental. The hotels are owned by a Boston bank called Kane and Cabot!

Henry Osborne went white and sat down.

'Are you all right?' asked Abel.

'Yes, I'm fine.'

'You don't by any chance know Kane and Cabot?'

'Off the record?' said Henry Osborne.

'Sure.'

"Yes, my company had to deal with them once before in the past.' He seemed to be hesitating. 'And we ended up having to take them to court!'

'Why?'

'I can't reveal the details. A messy business. Let's just say one of the directors was not totally honest and open with us.

'Which one?'asked Abel.

'Which one did you have to deal withe'Osbome enquired.

'A man named William Kane.'

Osborne seemed to hesitate again. 'Be careful,' he said. 'He's the world's meanest son of a bitch. I can give you all the low-down on him if you want it, but that would be strictly between us!'

'I certainly owe him no favours,' said Abel. 'I may well be in touch with you, Mr. Osborne. I have a score to settle with young Mr. Kane for his treatment of Davis Leroy.'

'Well, you can count on me to help in any way I can if William Kane is involved,' said Henry Osborne, rising from behind his desk. 'But that is strictly between us. And if the court shows that Desmond Pacey burnt the Richmond and no one else was involved, the company will pay up the same day. Then perhaps we can do some more business with all your other hotels.'

'Perhaps,'said Abel.

He walked back to the Stevens and decided to have lunch and find out for himself how well they ran their main dining room. There was another message at the desk for him. A Mr. David Maxton wondered if Abel was free to join him for lunch at one.

'David Maxton,' Abel said out loud, and the receptionist looked up. 'Why do I know that name?' he asked the staring girl.

'He owns this hotel, Mr. Rosnovski.'

'Ah, yes. Please let Mr. Maxton know that I shall be delighted to have lunch with him.' Abel glanced at his watch. 'And would you tell him that I may be a few minutes late?'

'Certainly, sir,' said the girl.

Abel went quickly up to his room and changed into a new white shirt, wondering what David Maxton could possibly want.

The dining room was already packed when Abel arrived. The head waiter showed him to a private table in an alcove where the owner of the Stevens was sitting alone. He rose to greet Abel.

'Abel Rosnovski, sir.'

'Yes, I know you,' said Maxton, 'or, to be more accurate, I know you by reputation. Do sit down and let's order lunch.'

Abel was compelled to adn-&e the Stevens. The food and the service were every bit as good as those at the Plaza. If he were to have the best hotel in Chicago, he knew it would have to be better than this one.

The head waiter reappeared with the menus. Abel studied his carefully, politely declined a first course and selected the beef, the quickest way to tell if a restaurant is dealing with the right butcher. David Maxton did not look at his menu and simply ordered the salmon. The head waiter scurried away.

'You must be wondering why I invited you to join me for lunch, Mr. Rosnovski.'

'I assumed,' said Abel, laughing, 'you were going to ask me to take over the Stevens for you.'

'You're absolutely right, Mr. Rosnovski.'

It was Maxton's turn to laugh. Abel was speechless. Even the arrival of their waiter wheeling a trolley of the finest beef did not help. The carver waited. Maxton squeezed some lemon over his salmon and continued.

'My manager is due to retire in five months' time after twenty-two years of loyal service and the assistant manager is also due for retirement very soon afterwards, so I'm looking for a new broom.'

'Place looks pretty clean to me,' said Abel.

'I'm always willing to improve, Mr. Rosnovski. Never be satisfied with standing still,' said Maxton. 'I've been watching your activities carefully. It wasn't until you took the Richmond over that it could even be classified as a hotel. It was a huge flop, house before that. In another two or three years, you would have been a rival to the Stevens if some fool hadn't burned the place down before you were given the chance.'

'Potatoes, sir?'

Abel looked up at a very attractive junior waitress. She smiled at him.

'No, thank you,' he said to her. 'Well, I'm very flattared, Mr. Maxton, both by your comments and the offer.'

'I think you'd be happy here, Mr. Rosnovski. The Stevens is a well-run hotel, and I would be willing to start you off at fifty dollars a weA and two per cent of the profits. You could start as soon as you like.'

'I'll need a few days to think over your generous offer, Mr. Maxton,' said Abel, 'but I confess I am very tempted. Nevertheless, I still have a few problems left over from the Richmond!

'String beans, sir?' the same waitress, and the same smile.

The face looked familiar. Abel felt sure he had seen her somewhere before. Perhaps she had once worked at the Richmond.

'Yes, please!'

He watched her walk away. There was something about her.

'Why don't you stay on at the hotel as my guest for a few days,' Maxton asked, 'and see how we run the place? It may help you make your decision.'

'That won't be necessary, Mr. Maxton. After only one day as a guest here I knew how well the hotel is run. My problem is that I own the Richmond Group.'

David Maxton's face registered surprise. 'I had no idea,' he said. 'I assumed old Davis Leroy's daughter would now be the owner.'

'It's a long story,' said Abel, and he explained to Maxton how he had come into the ownership of the group's stock.

'The problem is a simple one, Mr. Maxton. What I really want to do is find the two million dollars myself and build that group up into something worthwhile. Something that would even give you a good run for your money!

'I see,' said Maxton, looking quizzically at his empty plate. A waiter removed it.

'Would you like some coffee?' The same waitress. The same familiar look. It was beginning to worry Abel.