"Oh." Ducky blinked as he re-read the piece of card that had been inside his 'Secret Santa' present box.

Abby bounced over. "What did Santa give you, Duckman?" She looked at the card Ducky held. "Ooh. Your Secret Santa is really going to town."

Ducky glanced up at her. "It isn't you, is it, Abigail?"

She bent down and kissed his cheek. "Ducky, you know I love you, but this isn't my style."

"No, I suppose it isn't." Again Ducky read the words on the card. They hadn't changed.

DINNER

8.00 P.M, TONIGHT AT HENRI'S

YOUR SECRET SANTA

Henri's was a very up-market, very expensive, very discreet restaurant. Ducky hadn't actually been there before, but he'd heard about it. It was known for its food and wine as well as for its tasteful romantic ambience.

Who on earth would go to such lengths? The printed card gave nothing away. Suddenly a less than pleasant thought came to him, but surely no one he knew would be that cruel.

He touched Abby's hand. "Abby, you know who this is from, do you not? You were the person responsible for the whole Secret Santa thing."

"Yes, but - Oh, don't ask me, Ducky. It'll spoil it. I can't tell you who it's from, but I can tell you one thing, it isn't a joke. No one would do that to you. We all love you too much." She bent down and kissed him again and bounced off.

8:00 P.M. THAT NIGHT

Feeling a little uneasy, but nonetheless anticipatory, Ducky followed the Maître'd to a table.

"Oh," he murmured, as the tall, silver-haired man stood up to greet him. "Jethro. It is you?" He'd hardly dared to hope.

"Sure is, Duck," Jethro murmured, taking Ducky's hand and lifting it to his lips.

It was a very discreet restaurant.