"Hey, wait a minute," she protested just the same. He had already taken her arm and was piloting her toward the nearest flight of low wide stairs. "How did you know I wanted a drink?"
"I could see that mademoiselle was having difficulty swallowing," he replied, keeping them moving. "Pardon me for feasting my eyes on your lovely throat."
"I didn't suppose they'd serve drinks here."
"But of course." They were already mounting the stairs. "What would chess be without coffee or schnapps?"
"Okay, lead on," Sandra said. "You're the doctor."
"Doctor?" He smiled widely. "You know, I like being called that."
"Then the name is yours as long as you want it—Doc."
Meanwhile the happy little man had edged them into the first of a small cluster of tables, where a dark-suited jabbering trio was just rising. He snapped his fingers and hissed through his teeth. A white-aproned waiter materialized.
"For myself black coffee," he said. "For mademoiselle rhine wine and seltzer?"