said maggie, coming from the kitchen to the bedroom with a tray loaded with breakfast. Her voice betrayed the slightest hint of tension, but Joe failed to notice, for he was fuzzy with sleep. He grinned, his head sunk deeply back into the plump white pillow. “You look terrific in that housecoat,” he said. Maggie pulled a face at him and placed a tray on the bedside table. “You’ve got a letter,” she repeated. She picked it up and held it out; he waved it aside and caught her other hand, trying to pull her towards him. She detached the hand from his grip gently. “Look, you’d better open it,” she said. “It’s official. It has the UN frank on it, and the return address is in the UN district of New York.” Joe came alert suddenly. “Not my recall!” he said, jerking to a sitting position. “Here—gimme!” He began to tear the envelope open, and stopped in mid-movement. His forehead creased with a frown. “That’s odd,” he said. “What is, honey?” “It’s addressed directly to me here.
