He put one hand on his hip, and with the other pretended to moisten his eyebrow.

“You’re kidding,” Clete said.

“You cannot afford to draw attention to el Mayor and yourself, Señor Clete. And the staff of the Alvear is worse than women when they think they have seen something scandalous. It would be all over Buenos Aires within hours.”

“OK,” Clete said.

“You understand, Señor?”

“I understand, Enrico. There will be Minas in the apartment.”

“And you will give them a gift, even though nothing will pass between you.”

“How much?”

“A man in your position, Señor Clete, is expected to be generous. El Coronel was. I think there are probably some emerald earrings in the safe. I will see. If not…”

“My father kept a stock of earrings on hand?”

“Of course. A gift of earrings is more delicate than money.”

“Of course,” Clete said.

Enrico opened the wall safe. There were no earrings. There was a .32-caliber Colt automatic pistol, two gold watches, and a stack of currency. Enrico held the currency in his hand for a moment and, after some thought, peeled off six bills. He folded three of them very carefully twice, handed them to Clete, then folded the other three and handed them to Clete.

“What you will say, Señor Clete, is, ‘Since you were so kind as to accept my invitation, please permit me to take care of the taxi for you.’”

“That’s enough money to take a taxi from here to Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo,” Clete said. “And back.”

“It is an appropriate gift for someone of your station, Señor,” Enrico said.

“What do I do now, wait for von Wachtstein to call and give him the room number?”

“I suggest, Señor, that we go to the Alvear now—”

“Wachtstein’s going to call here,” Clete interrupted.

“—and then when Mayor von Wachtstein calls here, Antonio will tell him that you will contact him at the Alvear.”

“How am I going to do that?”

“Jorge, the concierge, will send a bellman to el Mayor and tell him that he has a telephone call. When he goes to the telephone, the bellman will give him a key to the room, or take him there.”

Clete thought a moment, and then said. “That’ll work. Have the bellman tell him Señorita Carzino-Cormano is calling.”

“Yes,” Enrico agreed. “Are we agreed, Señor Clete?”

“We are agreed, Enrico. Thank you, my friend.”

Enrico nodded and picked up the telephone and dialed a number from memory. “I need to speak to Jorge,” he said. There was a pause and then Jorge-the-concierge came on the line. Enrico inquired into the state of his health, that of his family, assured him that he himself was in fine health, and then said that Señor Frade wished to have a little cocktail party in his apartment, starting immediately, and would be grateful if two suitable young women could be enticed to accept his invitation. Apparently they could, because Enrico told Jorge he would see him in a few minutes.

Enrico hung up the telephone. “It is arranged, Señor Clete,” he said. “I will have a word with Antonio, and then we will go.”

“But you said ‘suitable young women,’” Clete said. “I thought we had agreed on not suitable young women?”

“Suitable for the Alvear apartment, not for the house…You are making fun of me again, Señor Clete!”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Enrico,” Clete said.