Vantagio blew up. “Gambling! You must be crazy! We run the numbers racket and let me tell you, kid, you’d lose your shirt! They’re crooked!”

Oho, Vantagio was antagonistic! Was he jealous of Heller?

“All right, then,” said Heller. And he took out a copy of the Wall Street Journal and opened it. It was the Commodity Futures Market page. “I make out that you buy and sell these as they go up and down, day by day.”

Vantagio brushed it aside. “That’s a good way to lose an awful lot of money, kid!” He was glowering.

It occurred to me right that moment that maybe I had an ally in Vantagio. He was obviously hostile to Heller. I began to work out why.

Heller was unfolding another spread of paper. “Then how about these? They apparently change in price, day to day.”

“That’s the stock market!” said Vantagio. “That’s a great way to go bankrupt!”

“Well, how do you buy and sell them?” said Heller.

“You need a broker. A stockbroker.”

“Well, could you recommend one?”

“Those crooks,” said Vantagio. Quite obviously, he did not want Heller to get ahead. He was nervous, edgy. I became more convinced there was something here — that maybe I could cultivate an ally.

“You know of one?” said Heller.

“Aw, look in the phone book classified. But I don’t want anything to do with it. And listen, kid, you don’t either. Listen, kid, you told me you were going to go to college.”

“Yes,” said Heller. “Nobody will listen to you if you don’t have a diploma.”

“Right,” said Vantagio. But he was edgy. “That’s why I called you in here, kid. You know what day this is?” And to Heller’s head shake, “It’s the second day of registration week at Empire College. You got your papers?”

“Right here,” said Heller, tapping his pocket. “But if it’s a whole week…”

“You,” said Vantagio harshly, “have got to go up there right now and register!”

“But if I have a whole week…”

“Be quiet!” said Vantagio. He reached into a drawer and got out a book, Curriculum, Empire College, Fall Term. “Geovani Meretrici” was on the catalogue. I thought his name was Vantagio. “What subject is your major?”

“Well, engineering, I suppose,” said Heller.

“What kind?” demanded Vantagio.

“Well, if you give me the book there, I can study it over and maybe in a couple of days…”

Vantagio was really cross now. What was this temper all about? He was reading from the book, ‘Aerospace Science and Engineering’? ‘Bioengineering’? ‘Civil Engineering and Engineering Mechanics’? ‘Electrical Engineering and Computer Science’? ‘Mineral Engineering’? ‘Nuclear Science and Engineering’? Just plain ‘Engineering’?”

“Nuclear Science and Engineering,” said Heller. “That sounds about right. But…”

Vantagio raised his voice. “They have a Bachelor,

Master, Doctorate and other degrees in it. So, that’s it! Nuclear Science and Engineering! Sounds impressive.”

“However,” said Heller, “I would like to look…”

“All right!” said Vantagio. “Now, here is a map of Empire University. See, here is the library and all that. But this is the administration building and this is the entrance. And here is a map of subways. You walk over to this station near here. Then, you go across town. And you transfer at Times Square to Number 1 and you get off at Empire University at 116th Street and you walk along here and right into that administration building and you sign up! You got it?”

“Well, yes. And I appreciate your help. But if there is a whole week…” He trailed off because Vantagio was sitting there looking at him in a strange way.

Vantagio started up again. “Kid, have you lived around New York before?”

“No,” said Heller.

Vantagio assumed a confidential air. “Then you don’t know the customs. Now, kid, when you’re in a strange place, it is absolutely fatal not to follow the customs.”

“That is true,” said Heller.

“Now, kid,” said this master of political science, “it so happens that there is a mandatory, American Indian custom regarding saving a man’s life. And Indian law remains in full force by prior sovereignty. Did you know that when you save a man’s life that man is responsible for you from there on out?”

I boggled! Vantagio was telling Heller an Earth Chinese custom! And he was telling Heller absolutely backwards! In old China, according to our Apparatus surveys, when you saved a man’s life you were then and there responsible for that man forevermore! So we warned operatives never to save anyone’s life in China! Vantagio was using his learning with a twist and he must know very well he was lying!

“Are you sure?” said Heller.

Vantagio looked at him, smug and superior. “Of course, I am sure. I am a master of political science, ain’t I?”

“Yes,” said Heller doubtfully.

“And you saved my life, didn’t you?” said Vantagio.

“Well, it seems so,” said Heller.

I suddenly got it! Vantagio! He was a tiny man, only five feet two inches tall. Right next door to Sicily lies Corsica, same people. And a small man in Corsica named Napoleon also felt inferior to everyone. Vantagio was suffering from an inferiority complex in the face of Heller’s deeds and acclaim! The things Heller had done had the Sicilian writhing with insecurity. And then I really got it: Vantagio was not his given name — it was his nickname! It means “Whiphand” in Italian!

Vantagio rose to his full five feet two and looked sternly at the seated Heller almost at eye level. And then this master of political science said, “You saved my life, so therefore you have to do absolutely everything I tell you! And that’s the way it is now from here on out!”

Heller must have looked contrite. “I see that that’s the way it seems.”

Suddenly, Vantagio was all smiles and cheer. “So, we have settled that! Have a cigar. No, I forgot, you mustn’t smoke. Here, have some mints.” And he shoved a box at Heller.

Heller took one and Vantagio came around and patted him on the back. “So, now we know where we stand. Right?”

“Right,” said Heller.

“So, you go straight down to the subway and go register right now!” But he said it with cheer.

Heller got up and walked to the door with Vantagio, who opened it for him and gave him another pat.

When Heller glanced back, Vantagio was all beaming and waving good-bye.

Well, it is very hard to understand Sicilians. This Vantagio appeared pretty treacherous, changeable. I had reservations about trusting him and including him in my plans. Still, there was a chance I could turn that burning jealousy and inferiority to account.

Expecting, of course, that Heller would now do everything Vantagio had told him to do, I was not paying much attention. Heller went down into a subway station and looked into a phone book. I thought he might be calling the college.

He got on a subway and roared along. He seemed to be interested in the people. It was a hot New York day and in such weather the subways are very, very hot. The people were sweaty, soggy.

I was not being any more alert than they were. I suddenly saw a station sign flash by that said:

Then one went by which said:

Hey, he was on the wrong subway. He was going DOWNtown, not UPtown! And he wasn’t on the proper line! He was on the Lexington Avenue subway!

Hastily, I backtracked on the second screen. He had changed, not at Times Square, but before that, at Grand Central! I backtracked further. I got to the phone book he had looked at. He had found Stocks and Bonds Brokers in the yellow pages. Then his finger had halted at Short, Skidder and Long Associates, 81 1/2 Wall St.