young woman, perhaps in her fifteenth year, looked up at him. “You do not look like the milk lady, either,” she laughed. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I am looking for Manny. Is he still here?”

“Well, that depends, sir,” she continued, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her black ear. “If he is in trouble again, you should have used the other door, you see.”

“In trouble?” Fotherby asked, shaking his head. “Why would he be in trouble?”

“Why would you be here in a uniform if he were not, sir?”

Fotherby smiled and shook his head. “No. He was good to me once and I hoped he might find it in his heart to be good to me once more.”

“God in heaven above!” shouted an angry vo...

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