The Father Hunt

I shook my head. "And I didn't ask you. I should have, but I didn't. I apologize. So Mr. Wolfe is asking you now. Jarrett told me that he went to England in late May nineteen forty-four and then to Egypt and Italy and Africa, and came back on September sixth. We're checking it, and maybe you can help. He called me a liar. Can you call him one?"

"I can call him anything, but…" He looked at Wolfe. "Are you sure about the date? The birth?"

"Yes. That can't be challenged. Mr. Goodwin has seen the birth certificate."

"Then I guess we… you… my God. He was out

of the country all that summer. I can check the exact dates he left and returned, but does that matter?"

"No. But we need to know if Elinor Denovo, then Car-lotta Vaughn, was also out of the country that summer, however briefly. Can you help on that?"

"Of course not. I didn't… I only saw her three or four times after she moved out; I barely spoke to her." He sounded peevish and looked peevish. "You could have told me this on the phone." He looked at his watch. "An hour wasted."

"Possibly not." Wolfe cocked his head. "You're vexed, Mr. McCray, and so are we. Mr. Goodwin and I can't be charged with making an unwarranted assumption. The checks, certainly, but other circumstances too, supplied by you-that Carlotta Vaughn left Jarrett's in the spring of nineteen forty-four but did not end their association. It was an acceptable conjecture that he had provided other quarters for her if their relations had taken a course which he preferred not to pursue in his home. We don't have to abandon that conjecture now; we can merely adapt it. You told Mr. Goodwin yesterday that you had once thought it possible that something was developing between Carlotta Vaughn and Mr. Jarrett's son. He was twenty years of age and I presume he was away at college, but not in the summer months, and other quarters for her could have been provided by him. For the only son of a wealthy man that wouldn't have been difficult. I don't need to waste more of your time by expounding the obvious, that the checks sent by Mr. Jarrett, if not for a daughter, might have been for a granddaughter. I invite your opinion."

McCray was frowning. He turned the frown on me and demanded, "Did I say that?"

I nodded. "I can repeat it to the letter if you want it."

"I don't. I must have been babbling."

"No, you weren't babbling. I was asking you about her relations with everybody, including you, that was all. I asked if you remembered anything specific and you didn't."