In the crowd of guests a dapper young man with the sleek head of a ferret was

Also studying the silk purse. From sheer habit Paulie Gatto wondered just how he

Could go about hijacking that fat pocketbook. The idea amused him. But he knew

It was idle, innocent dreaming, as small children dream of knocking out tanks

With popguns. He watched his boss, fat, middle-aged Peter Clemenza whirling

young girls around the wooden dance floor in a rustic and lusty Tarantella.

Clemenza, immensely tall, immensely huge, danced with such skill and abandon,

His hard belly lecherously bumping the breasts of younger, tinier women, that all

The guests were applauding him. Older women grabbed his arm to become his

Next partner. The younger men respectfully cleared off the floor and clapped their

hands in time to the mandolin's wild strumming. When Clemenza finally collapsed

In a chair, Paulie Gatto brought him a glass of icy black wine and wiped the

Perspiring Jovelike brow with his silk handkerchief. Clemenza was blowing like a

Whale as he gulped down the wine. But instead of thanking Paulie he said curtly,

"Never mind being a dance judge, do your job. Take a walk around the

neighborhood and see everything is OK." Paulie slid away into the crowd.

The band took a refreshment break. A young man named Nino Valenti picked