Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 35, No. 10, October 1990

I went back to the point where he asked me if I was going to the Rodeo Ball and I told him Phil was in San Francisco. There was the sound of a door closing as I left with nothing more on my mind than trying to remember which supermarket had the special on steaks.

Now I heard the faint squeak of Andy’s swivel chair as he settled into it. “Well, Mrs. Metcalf,” he said affably, “what can I do for you?”

“For me, Mr. Wyatt, nothing.” She had a low-pitched voice and spoke in a manner which my mother would have described as “refined.”

“But for someone in whom we have a mutual interest there is a great deal you can do. What significance does this date have: November 22, 1941?”

After a long pause, Andy said, “None. Should it?”

“Yes. It is the birthdate of an illegitimate child which you fathered.”

“That’s nonsense,” Andy stated flatly. “The most charitable view I can take of your allegation is that this is a case of mistaken identity.”

She went on as though he had not spoken. “The mother’s name was Mary Skouros. Six weeks after his birth she relinquished him, and my husband and I adopted him. We chose him for several reasons: he was healthy and handsome, we had confidence in the adoption agency, and paternity had been acknowledged. At that time, Mr. Wyatt, natural parents were not permitted to know where their child had been placed but adoptive parents were given full particulars, including the names of the mother and father. That child is an adult now, and in need of advantages which only you can give him.”

“Is this attempted blackmail, Mrs. Metcalf?”

“ ‘Blackmail’ is a very ugly word. I prefer to think of this as a mother’s earnest effort to assure her son’s future. My husband and I took a child you were willing to recognize as yours, but for whom you were unwilling, or unable, to assume responsibility. We had great plans for him, but Mr. Metcalf died when Jack was seven. On a schoolteacher’s salary I could not give him many of the things my husband would have provided. I did, however, see to it that he made maximum use of his abilities and education so that he received an excellent scholarship at Berkeley. He graduated with honors and had a creditable service record.”

“I congratulate you,” Andy said, dryly. “Having done so well by this boy, why do you come to me now?”

“Because his incentive has been my promise that I had an old friend with money and prestige who would give him the kind of start which would carry him wherever he wanted to go.”

“Does he know he is adopted?”

“No. Nor does he resemble you or any of the other Wyatts. I went to some pains to establish this fact. Here is his picture.”

There was a considerable pause and then I heard Andy give a little grunt which might have been an expression of amusement. “No,” he agreed, “he certainly doesn’t resemble my family. His mother must have had the dominant genes. And now, Mrs. Metcalf...” his voice flattened and hardened “...suppose I call this blackmail, whether you like the word or not, and tell you to get the hell out of here. What would your next move be?”

“I would leave, of course,” she said quietly, “but I would be back in a few days, with Jack. I have a teaching position at Wyattsville High School and I am certain Jack could find employment. He’s very adaptable. Probably he could sell cars for your brother Conrad, or men’s furnishings for Abner Wyatt. There are many possibilities.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Andy said.

“I hope so. If, on the other hand, you elect to take him into the bank and advance him in every way possible in this community and this state, I believe he will be a credit to both of us.”

“If... if— I give him a job in the bank, will you promise to stay out of Wyattsville, Mrs. Metcalf?” Andy’s voice was harsh.

“No. Whatever you decide, I will be here to see that my son’s best interests are served.”

“Of course. I might have expected that.” I could hear the little thud, thud, thud that meant he was letting a pen or pencil run through between thumb and finger and then reversing it. “If I do anything for this boy,” he said, “it will not constitute an admission of any sort.”

“No admission is necessary,” she reminded him. “Paternity is a matter of record in the form of a letter from the adoption agency which I have in my safe deposit box. Now, please write a letter to Jack which I have come prepared to dictate.”

A drawer was opened and slammed shut, and as she talked I could hear the angry scratching of Andy’s pen. “ ‘Dear Julia,’ ” Mrs. Metcalf said, “ ‘It was good to see you again after so many years. I was impressed with your son’s records, academically and in the service. I feel sure he can go far in Wyattsville.’ New paragraph. ‘He is a very fortunate young man to have a mother so dedicated to his advancement.’ Sign it, ‘Cordially, Andrew Wyatt.’ ”