Youre talking aboutme? Stone checked his watch.Late afternoon, he said. “Figure half an hour, maybe an hour, on the ground there, while we clear and refuel. We should be in Rockland about five, then well fly the Cessna to the island, be there before dark. He sent his caretaker a text with that plan. I know. How old is he now? He wanted to see me. I dont have to accuse him of anything. It was implied in everything he said. He always writhes. Its like hes a little kid in a theater with a horror movie on the screen. He does everything except slap his hands over his face. Devine hesitated. Thats right. Doxey had been watching the house on the hill. He knew of Sybils interest. He put two and two together when I entered the picture. He knew who had retained me. He communicated his knowledge to Lutts at lunch, and told him my client must have discovered something on the groundsor in the house which changed the value of the property. He probably suggested that Lutts make her go out there with him and show him just what it was. Doxey did this because he wanted Lutts to go out there to the house. Hed tried to lure Lutts out there by sending him an anonymous letter calculated to send Lutts running out to his death. Hed cheated on her. Hed stolen her spotlight from time to time. And hed even given her some of the worst political advice ever uttered by a so-called expert.’ But none of this mattered because they were symbiotic. Im so sorry. The last I saw of him, he was crossing the room and tearing down the side stairs, the rope whipping behind him. What did you get? Dino asked. I told Ruth that Id write the stuff on my way to Washington. I had also discovered that while driving I could usually compose a line a mile. In the bedroom I opened the closet and studied the remnants of a once fairly resplendent wardrobe. Time, fashion, and personal indifference had reduced it to one London-tailored suit (the last of six), which I planned to be cremated in, a couple of tweed jackets, some jeans, and a seersucker suit with suspicious labels. I chose the seersucker, a blue shirt, a black knit tie, and when I looked in the mirror I thought I looked quite natty — providing that one still thought of 1965 as a natty year. Quanes dead, I said. Maybe Id better tell you about it. That was the basis of your Yellow-Dog Theory? Slick said..