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Just give me a second, OK? He texted Campbell and arranged to meet, then took the subway back to Midtown and the little Italian restaurant. They sailed over the wall, now on the property of Arrington House, the country hotel that Stone and his French partner, Marcel du Bois, had made from a huge country house. The car park was full, he noticed. Where? What happened? Later, he walked out of the subway station in the Financial District and into the heat of the morning. It was early enough for the city to still be waking up. Delivery trucks were parked illegally, and cabs, cars, and Ubers were hammering their horns, besmirching the only quiet time of the day the city had. Birds pecked at pavement trash, street sweepers were sweeping, yawning suits and nonsuits were shuffling to their jobs looking like they were heading to their graves. Nobody knows where I am but my driver. A what? When? How? I cant talk to you about it. I can barely talk to myself about it. All right, Mason said. What did you tell the officers? I found numerous latent fingerprints which I photographed. Well, thanks for trying. Its the weirdest thing Ive ever seen. I mean, it doesnt even look like an email address. Of course, Della Street pointed out, she may say she was listening to some programme that was real noisy. Well. How is Audrey? I know. I have an appointment at the beauty shop right after we leave here, and I dressed for that appointment instead of for this. I hope you dont mind my making a spectacle of myself, but I dont want to get dirty. Oh, well..