In the corner of the tavern, shaded from the morning sun by the hanging sign outside bearing the Stilly's Sterling Stout, Tipples and Tupples sign, a small and foxy lady stands with a fiddle at her chin.

She notices the transaction between the comely barmad (none other than Stilly herself!) and DTAM, and tapping her foot, launches into Whiskey Before Breakfast, sensing intuitively it was the most appropriate of all her many songs. The drinkers nod, sway and tap their feet in appreciation.

The doorway fills with a tall shadow, and an impeccably dressed Southern gentleman wearing a Panama hat slouches in to the bar.

"Robert E. Leej, at your service, ma'am," he says softly to Stilly.

"A shot of good sippin' bourbon would suit me. And if you have any information about this I woudl be most grateful to know of it..." He unfolds a parchment form from his inner breast pocket and shows her the carefully inked black and red images inscribed there on in delicate steelpoint.

Stilly shakes her head, and gives him his bourbon. He wanders among the tables. For some reason, she watches his progress carefully, almost nervously. Ignoring the calls of customers,she doesn't take her eyes off him for a second.

She doesn't notice, therefore, the quiet form of the Gambler watching these peculiar goings-on from the doorway. He nods quietly to himself and slips back into the shadows, and moves on down the promenade.