"Come on!" Dawes said.
The fat man grunted and hoisted himself out of the swivel chair. He followed lamely behind the two men as they went out into the street again.
A woman, with an empty market basket, nodded casually to them. "Mornin', folks. Enjoyed it last night. Thought you made a right nice speech, Mr. Dawes."
"Thanks," Dawes answered gruffly, but obviously flattered. "We were just goin' over to Brundage's to pick up the body. Ma's gonna pay a call on Mrs. Brundage around ten o'clock. You care to visit?"
"Why, I think that's very nice," the woman said. "I'll be sure and do that." She smiled at the fat man. "Mornin', Prince."
Sol's head was spinning. As they left the woman and continued their determined march down the quiet street, he tried to find answers.
"Look, Mr. Dawes." He was panting; the pace was fast. "Does she dream about this—Armagon, too? That woman back there?"
"Yep."
Charlie chuckled. "He's a stranger, all right."
"And you, Mr.—" Sol turned to the fat man. "You also know about this palace and everything?"