Abel smiled at Sammy's bald head and went over to seventeen. There were two people seated at the table, a man in a colourful checked jacket, of which Abel did not approve, and an attractive young woman with a mop of blonde, curly hair, which momentarily distracted Abel, who uncharitably assumed she was the checked jacket's New York girlfriend. Abel put on his 'sorry smile', betting himself a silver dollar that the man was going to make a big fuss about the swing doors and try to get his table changed to impress the stunning blonde. No one liked being near the smell of the kitchens and the continual banging of waiters through the doors, but it was impossible to avoid using the table, when the hotel was already packed with residents and many New Yorkers who used the restaurant as their local eating place, and looked upon visitors as little less than intruders, Why did Sammy always leave the tricky customers for him to deal with? Abel approached the checked jacket cautiously - 'You asked to speak to me, sir?'

'Sure did,' said a Southern accent. 'My name is Davis Leroy, and this is my daughter Melanie.'

Abel's eyes left Mr. Leroy momentarily and encountered a pair of eyes as green as any he had ever seen.

'I have been watching you, Abel, for the last five days,' Mr. Leroy was saying in his Southern drawl.

If pushed, Abel would have had to admit that he had not noticed Mr. Leroy until the last five minqtes.

'I have been very impressed by wh.!xt I've seen, Abel, because you got class, real class, and I am always on the lookout for that. Ellsworth Statler was a fool not to pick you up right away.'

Abel began to take a closer look at Mr. Leroy. His purple checks and double chin left Abel in no doubt that he had not been told about Prohibition, and the empty plates in front of him accounted for his basketball belly, but neither the name nor the face meant anything to him. At a normal lunchtime, Abel was familiar with the background of any - one sitting at thirty - seven of the thirty - nine tables in the Edwardian Room. That day Mr. Leroy was one of the unknown two.

The Southerner was still talking. 'Now, I'm not one of those multi - millionaires who have to sit at your comer table when they stay at the Plaza.'

Abel was limpressed. The average customer wasn't supposed to appreciate the relative merits of the various tables.

'But I'm not doing so badly for myself. In fact, my best hotel may well grow to be as impressive as this one some day, Abel.'

'I am sure it will be, sir,l said Abel, playing for time.

Leroy, Leroy, Leroy. The name didn't mean a thing.

'Lemme git to the point, son. The number one hotel in my group needs a new assistant manager, in charge of the restaurants. If you're interested, join me in my room when you come off duty.'

He handed Abel a large embossed card.

'Thank you, sir,' said Abel, looking at it: Davis Ler - oy. The Richmond Group of Hotels, Dallas. Underneath was inscribed the motto: ~One day a hotel in every state., The name still meant nothing to Abel.

'I look forward to seeing you,' said the friendly, checkjacketed Texan.

'Thank you, sir,' said Abel. He smiled at Melanie, whose eyes were as coolly green as before and returned to Sammy, still head down, counting his takings.

'Ever heard of the Richmond Group of Hotels, Sammy?'

Tes, sure, my brother was a junior waiter in one once. Must be about eight or nine of them, all over the South, run by a mad Texan, but I can't remember the guy's name. Why you asking?' said Sammy, looking up suspiciously.

'No particular reason,' said Abel.

'There's always a reason with you. Now what did table seventeen want?'

said Sammy.

'Gn,unbling about the noise from the kitchen. Can't say I blame him.'

'What does he expect me to do, put him out on the veranda? Who does the guy think he is, John D. Rockefeller?'

Abel left Sammy to his counting and grumbling and cleared his own tables as quickly as possible. Then he went to his room and started to check out the Richmond Group. A few calls and he'd learned enough to satisfy his curiosity. The group turned out to be a private company, with eleven hotels in all, the most impressive one a three hundred and forty - two bedroom de luxe establishment in Chicago, the Richmond Continental. Abel decided he had nothing to lose by paying a call on Mr. Leroy and Melanie.

He checked Mr. Leroy's room number - 85 - one of the better smaller rooms. He arrived a little before four o'clock and was disappointed to discover Melanie was no longer with her father.

'Glad you could drop by, Abel. Take a seat.'

It was the first time Abel had sat down as a guest in the more than four years he had worked at the Plaza.