he Governor's mansion, a century old edifice typifying the moribund tendency to confuse dignity with discomfort, was teeming with professional and political personages when the Durans arrived. The dinner went off routinely, with no overt references made to the missile matter. However, the senator noticed that no one inquired into the health and happiness of his two sons, so that he presumed word had got around.
It was not until after dinner, when he had seated himself alone in a corner of the luxurious old living room, a B and B in one hand and a cigar in the other, that his host approached him.
"Evenin', Vance. Sure glad you could make it," exclaimed the familiarly jovial voice of Governor Will Gorton.
Duran sat down his drink and took the Governor's plump hand, shaking it vigorously. Then the senator observed the intense youngish face of Fritz Ambly, who had followed the Governor.
"Guess you know Fritz," Gorton went on, seating himself next to Duran. "Says he met you at Sig's office this afternoon."
"That's right," Duran said. "Good to see you again, Ambly."
The Youth Welfare board chairman nodded affably and took the remaining chair. His look of concern had mellowed somewhat with the evening. But the pale close eyes remained set in an expression of aggressive earnestness.
"How's Roger?" Gorton asked, after a moment's silence.
"As normal as ever," said Duran, unprepared for the question. Then, slyly, he added, "Thanks for talking Loeffler into letting me see him."