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"Let me give you a hand with your bags."

"What a marvelous house," Charity said, reaching to take the Duchess's extended hand.

"Small and unpretentious," Jamison said dryly, "but comfy. Sometime, when you have a free week or ten days, I'll show you around."

The Duchess liked Charity's smile and peal of laughter.

"My name is Elizabeth Stanfield," the Duchess said.

"Charity Hoche," Charity said.

"How do you do?"

"Have you eaten?" the Duchess asked.

"Colonel Stevens took me by the Savoy Grill," Charity said, "for a final lecture on the conduct expected of me as an officer and a gentlewoman."

"Well, I think, under the circumstances, you're doing quite well," the Duchess said as they entered the foyer.

Jamison had been informed, and he had informed the Duchess, of the decision to put Charity into an officer's uniform.

The Duchess found Charity's eyes on hers and saw in them both gratitude and appraisal. This was a highly intelligent woman, the Duchess decided. She wondered what her real role at Whithey House was to be. There was a reason for the decision to put her into an officer's uniform, and it had nothing to do with the one offered: "that it would make things a little easier when she's dealing with the female personnel."

Charity laughed again, a pleasant peal of laughter, when she saw the signpost erected at the foot of the main staircase. It was ten feet tall and festooned with lettered arrows, and it gave the direction and miles to Washington, Berlin, Tokyo, Moscow, as well as to the mess, the club, and the officers' and billeting areas within the huge mansion.

"Don't laugh," Jamison said.

"You'll need it. We have three bloodhounds who do nothing but search for people who get lost on the premises."

Jamison set Charity's suitcases down in the corridor outside his office and motioned Charity inside.

"Before we go through the paperwork," Jamison said, "let me make it official.

On behalf of our beloved commanding officer, Major Richard Canidy, who is regrettably not available at the moment, let me welcome you to Whithey "Thank you very much." Charity smiled.

The Duchess saw on Charity's face that Charity had known that Canidy would not be here. And then she had the sure feeling that Charity knew why Canidy wasn't here, and very probably where he was and what he was doing.

There were documents for Charity to sign, and Jamison handed her an identity card overprinted with diagonal red stripes and sealed in plastic.

"The red stripes are what we call 'anyplace, anytime' stripes," Jamison explained, "meaning you go anywhere on the station whenever you wish. You'll probably be asked for the card a lot, until the security people get to know you, and you will be asked for it whenever you leave the inner and outer perimeters."

Charity nodded her understanding, glanced at the card, and tucked it in the breast pocket of her uniform tunic.

"That, except for the question of your billet, is it,"Jamison said.

"You have two choices. You can have a private room in the female officers' wing on the second floor, or you can move in with Captain Stanfield in the servants' quarters on the third floor."

"I'm in what used to be the apartment provided for..." she hesitated just perceptibly, and then went on, "the Duchess's personal maid. There are two bedrooms and a sitter, and a private bath with a bathtub. There are only showers in the female officers' quarters

"That's very kind of you," Charity said, "and I think I'd prefer that. But it raises a question."

"What's that?" the Duchess asked.

"You're my very first duchess," Charity said.

"I knew a baroness one time, at school. But I don't know what to call you."

"Elizabeth, or Liz, will do just fine," the Duchess said.