He had little time to himself, anyway. As the afternoon sped toward evening, the suite saw a steady procession of Paxton aides pass in and out, each with his own special problem. Thornburg arrived with the writers. They had spent the morning revising the act, eliminating all the gay songs, patter and dancing with a view of the best public relations. What remained lacked the original verve but it was at least dignified, as befitting the tragic circumstances. Raymond Fox reported that the orchestra had hastily rehearsed ``Cradle Song'' in case it was needed. Charlie Marble was back and forth on several occasions, first to confer with Andy on the advisability of cancelling the Las Vegas engagement -- they decided it was wise -- and later to announce that a prominent comedian, also an agency client, had agreed to fill the casino's open date. And once Bake slipped in, pale and drawn, last night's liquor still on his breath with some of today's added to it. He asked if there was anything he could do. Andy invented a job to keep him busy, sending him ahead to El Dorado to supervise last minute arrangements.

But from Rocco Vecchio, they heard nothing.

At last it was time to depart. Hub, nosing about, spotted reporters in the lobby, so Andy was hustled away quietly through the hotel's service entrance in a strange car which Hub had procured somewhere.

They succeeded in eluding the curious at the hotel, but there was no chance of avoiding them at the nightclub. El Dorado was surrounded by a mob. They overflowed the parking lot, making progress by automobile difficult. Long before he reached the protection of the stage door, Andy was recognized. Word of his arrival spread through the crowd like a brush-fire. They surged around him, fingers pointing, eyes prying. It was not a hostile gathering but Andy sensed the difference from last night's hero-worshippers. They had come not to admire but to observe.