There was a line at the door to the Car6 Carlyle, but acquiring a

good table was rarely a challenge for the tall Englishman. His

steady gaze, his soft, rich voice and sure, understated gestures

conveyed a definite air of command. He had the ageless, chiseled

good looks that made some of the people waiting for the floor

show look twice, uncertain if they had seen the face in a movie or

a magazine. The man stood apart, but was not easy to place.

Lean and spare, with wings of gray in his thick brown hair,

brushed straight back from a high, broad forehead, he might have

passed for thirty-five or forty-five. The silk shirt and impeccably

tailored blue suit spoke of money and power. But there was

something about the man s military bearing and the ironic set of

his mouth that signaled that he did not spend his days con-

templating stock-market quotations.