The Father Hunt

I tried not to bat an eye. "Good," I said. "At least we have her name. Who is Lottie Vaughn?" But I realized I was being silly; I had told Ballou. So I went on, "The name we have is Elinor Denovo. Those pictures are of her, taken twenty years ago."

"I don't see…" He was frowning. "I don't get it." He looked at the photographs. "This is Carlotta Vaughn, I'm absolutely certain. What do you mean, it's Elinor Denovo?"

"Those are the only pictures we have of her," I said, "and we need them." I put out a hand. As he hesitated the waiter came with the ices and coffee, and I let him go on hesitating until we were served and the waiter had gone, then reached again and he handed them over. "It's a long story," I said, "and most of it is confidential information from our client. From what Mr. Ballou told me I don't think you would pass anything on to Jarrett.

I know you wouldn't, but you're a banker and you know it's always better to be too careful than not careful enough. You also know that Mr. Wolfe is hoping and expecting to get Jarrett out on a limb. So I'll appreciate it if you'll tell me about Carlotta Vaughn. Did Jarrett know her?"

He nodded. "That's where I met her. At his home."

"Was she a guest?"

"No. She was Mrs. Jarrett's secretary when I met her. When Mrs. Jarrett died he kept her. I was his secretary then, dividing my time between his home-his homes- and the office, and you might say she was my assistant. She was very intelligent and competent."

The ices didn't get eaten and not much of the coffee was drunk, and McCray's hour for lunch got stretched. That was one of the times that my memory, which I'll match with anybody, came in handy, because I didn't want to take out my notebook. I doubted if my host would approve there with all those billions around. I submit these facts about Carlotta Vaughn, of course all of them according to Bertram McCray.

He had first seen her at the Jarrett town house in New York, when she had started as Mrs. Jarrett's secretary, in May 1942. She had continued at that job until November 1943, when Mrs. Jairett had died of cancer, and then had stayed to work for Jarrett. At that time McCray had been spending about two-thirds of his time at the bank and one-third at the house, either in town or in the country, and she was extremely useful. She almost never did anything at the bank, only two or three times in four or five months.