Chapter 23. The morning came far too early for August Fenwick. The lifestyle of a supposedly

indolent young billionaire was hardly the most regimented one could imagine, but there were appearances to keep up occasionally.

He struggled briefly with the plush mattress on which he lay his still sleeping mind straining to comprehend the meaning

of the sudden onrush of daylight.

He pushed himself onto his elbows as Thompson the butler busied himself opening curtains

without apparent provocation.

"'Good morning, sir,' Thompson was as clipped and efficient as always.

"'Thompson, what the devil time is it?' Fenwick said at last, squinting hard.

"'Eight-thirty, sir,' the gentleman's gentleman said, with a trace of sadistic smile.

Fenwick shook his head to clear the first layer of cobwebs.

"'And did anyone happen to make you aware of the time that I retired last night?' he said at last.

"'There seems to be very little agreement on the subject, sir, the butler said, busying himself with gathering his master's morning effects. Some were of the opinion that you graced us with

your presence as early as a quarter to five. Others seemed certain that it was closer to six.

It was six-fifteen, in fact, Fenwick glared. As you say, sir,

like most of the household, I have long ago stopped keeping track of such matters. Thompson stood

beside the bed and held out a beautiful silk robe. Then what precisely makes you certain that I would

wish Fenwick Laboratories, sir, Thompson smiled,

the board of directors meeting, is cancelled, Fenwick said, throwing aside the bedclothes

and taking the robe from Thompson as he rose. The butler sputtered slightly. But sir, I heard

no such thing, he protested. No, said Fenwick as he pulled the robe over his shoulders,

but I imagine it will be when I don't show up.

But, sir, Thompson protested, and I've never been entirely clear on why I need a board of directors

...