The Father Hunt

"No. But I can label any man whose faculties are concentrated on a single purpose. I can label Charles de Gaulle or Robert Welch or Stokely Carmichael."

"If you do, don't glue them on, and have replacements handy."

Jarrett nodded. "Nothing is unalterable, not even a label. I have altered mine for my father several times. I mention him because it is apropos. The only reference to him in your letter was that Carlotta Vaughn was in his employ, but Bert McCray has told me about your poke at him and how he met it. He has also told me of your intention to transfer the poke to me. I would enjoy discussing my father with you-we might get a better label for him than the one I have-but your letter asks about Carlotta Vaughn. First we should dispose of me. You thought my father was the father of a child she bore, were confronted with evidence that he wasn't, and decided that I was. Is that correct?"

"Not 'decided.' Conjectured or surmised-or even inferred."

"No matter. You're in for another disappointment. When Bert McCray told me about it Saturday, and then when your letter came, I decided to save you time and expense -and of course avoid annoyance for myself-by telling you something that many people conjecture or surmise but only a few really know. But I realized that my telling you

wouldn't settle it for you, so this morning I phoned my doctor."

He turned to me. "You're Archie Goodwin?"

I told him yes. He got a leather case from his pocket, fingered a card out, and extended his hand, and I went and took the card. The "James Odell Worthington, M.D." might actually have been engraved.

"Dr. Worthington will see you at nine tomorrow morning," Jarrett said. "Be on time; he's a very busy man. He will tell you that I am incapable of impregnating a woman and always have been. He has a reputation and would on no account risk it by telling you that if there was any remote possibility that you would ever prove him wrong."

He turned to Wolfe. "Your letter said that you want information about Carlotta Vaughn."

I would have told him to go climb a tree. Wolfe probably would have liked to, but the only visible sign was the tip of his forefinger making a little circle on the desk blotter. He asked, "Did Dr. Worthington know you in nineteen forty-four?"