The Father Hunt

He went to the red leather chair and sat. "It would be pointless to ask me anything about Carlotta Vaughn. Bert McCray told me that her child was conceived in the summer of nineteen forty-four. I had been rejected by the army and spent that summer working in a war-materials plant in California. I know nothing that could possibly help you." He got up again. "Come and have dinner with me." He looked at me. "You too. Sometimes it helps to have people around, I don't know why."

"I doubt," Wolfe said, "if it would help to have Mr. Goodwin and me around. We're in a pickle. I wrote you that I would appreciate it if you would call at my office. I retract that. I don't appreciate it at all."

"I suppose not." He turned and sort of wandered toward the hall, but stopped and swung around. "The pickle you're in is nothing to mine. I thought I had my father plain and clear, and now this! I'm going to see it-I don't know when, but I will. I have to."

I had circled around him and was in the hall, but he didn't see me as he came to the front, where I had the

door open. I shut the door after him, returned to the office, and stood looking down at Wolfe. With his chin down he had to have his eyes wide open to glare at the globe. After ten seconds of that he raised his head to growl at me. "Sit down. Confound it, you know I like eyes at a level."

"Yeah. Shall I get the darts out?"

"No. How much have we spent?"

That was dangerous. That question meant, If I return the retainer and drop it, how much am I out? That hadn't happened often, but it wasn't unthinkable. I went to my chair and sat. "I admit," I said, "that we've never had a tougher one, and it may be too tough even for you, but why can't we just hang on until Eugene sees it? He'll tell us, and we'll check it and hand it to the client, and she'll think-"

"Shut up!"

That was better. There wasn't going to be a battle about

quitting. He scowled at me and demanded, "Do we aban

don that wretch?" ''

I thought that was hitting below the belt, to call a vice-president a wretch just because he couldn't impregnate a woman. "Yes," I said, "any odds you want. Of course I'll see that doctor, but we might as well cross him off now."

"Do we also abandon Mr. McCray?"