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just went off.”
     
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The Senator stood up abruptly. “Pat, I’m sorry. Incidentally, this isPhilip Buckley, my administrative assistant. He and Toby have puttogether some material for you—all sorts of stuff: press clippings,letters, photo albums, even some home movies. Why don’t you lookthem over, and then let’s talk again in the next few days?”Pat could do nothing except agree. She would talk to LutherPelham. Between them, they must convince the Senator that she couldnot sabotage the program. She realized Philip Buckley was studyingher carefully. Did she detect a certain hostility in his manner?“Toby will drive you home,” the Senator continued hurriedly.“Where is he, Phil?”“Right here, Senator. Keep your shirt on.”The cheerful voice came from a barrel-chested man whoimmediately gave Pat the impression of being an overage prize-fighter.His big face was beefy, with the flesh beginning to puff under small,deep-set eyes. Fading sandy hair was abundantly mixed with gray.He was wearing a dark blue suit and holding a cap in his hands.His hands—she found herself staring at them. They were the largestshe had ever seen. A ring with an onyx an inch square accentuatedthe thickness of his fingers. Keep your shirt on. Had he really said that? Aghast, she looked atthe Senator. But Abigail Jennings was laughing.“Pat, this is Toby Gorgone. He can tell you what his job is as hedrives you home. I’ve never been able to figure it out and he’s beenwith me for twenty-five years. He’s from Apple Junction too, andbesides me, he’s the best thing that ever came out of it. And now I’moff. Come on, Phil.”They were gone. This special is going to be sheer hell to make,Pat thought. She had three solid pages of points she’d wanted todiscuss with the Senator and had gotten to bring up exactly one. Tobyhad known Abigail Jennings since childhood. That she put up withhis insolence was incredible. Maybe he’d answer some questions onthe drive home.She had just reached the reception area when the door was flungopen and Senator Jennings rushed back in, followed by Philip. Therelaxed manner was gone. “Toby, thank God I caught you,” shesnapped. “Where did you get the idea I’m not due at the Embassyuntil seven?”
     
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“That’s what you told me, Senator.”“That’s what I may have told you, but you’re supposed to double-check my appointments, aren’t you?”“Yes, Senator,” Toby said genially.“I’m due at six. Be downstairs at quarter to.” The words were spatout.“Senator, you’ll be late for the vote,” Toby said. “You’d better geta move on.”“I’d be late for everything if I didn’t have eyes in the back of myhead to double-check on you.” This time the door slammed behindher.Toby laughed. “We’d better get started, Miss Traymore.”Wordlessly, Pat nodded. She could not imagine one of the servantsat home addressing either Veronica or Charles with such a familiarityor being so unconcerned about a reprimand. What circumstances hadcreated such a bizarre relationship between Senator Jennings and heroxlike chauffeur?She decided to find out.
     
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Toby steered the sleek gray Cadillac Sedan de Ville through the rapidlygathering traffic. For the hundredth time he brooded on the fact thatWashington in the late afternoon was a driver ’s nightmare. All thetourists in their rented cars who didn’t realize that some of the streetsbecame one-way on the dot of four created havoc for the people whoworked here.He glanced into the rearview mirror and liked what he saw. PatriciaTraymore was all right. It had taken all three of them—himself, Philand Pelham—to talk Abby into agreeing to this documentary. So Tobyfelt even more than usually responsible to see that it worked out.Still, you couldn’t blame Abby for being nervous. She was withinan eyelash of everything she’d ever wanted. His eyes met Pat’s in themirror. What a smile that girl had! He’d