Littlemore considered telling the mayor about the trunk he and Younger had found in the caisson but decided against it, since the trunk had revealed nothing conclusive so far, and since he wasn't supposed to have gone down to the caisson in the first place. 'I just heard from Gidow, sir, in Chicago. He's checked with the police. He went through the whole city directory. He looked at the blue book. She didn't come from Chicago, sir. No one's ever heard of Elizabeth Riverford in Chicago.'
McClellan looked long and hard at the detective. 'I was with George Banwell Sunday night,' he said. 'I've told you that three times.'
'I know, sir. And I'm sure Miss Riverford couldn't have been there with you, wherever you were, without your knowing it, right, sir?'
'What?'
'I'm sure Mr Banwell didn't secretly bring Miss Riverford with him, sir, and kill her around midnight, and then bring her back with him to the city and put her in the apartment, making it look like she was killed there. If you follow me, Your Honor.'
'Good Lord, Detective.'
'It's just that I don't know where you were, sir, or how Mr Banwell got there, or whether you were together the whole time.'
McClellan took a deep breath. 'Very well. On Sunday night, Mr Littlemore, I dined with Charles Murphy at the Grand View Hotel near Saranac Inn. The dinner was arranged that very day — by George Banwell. Mr Haffen was another of the guests.'
Littlemore was startled. Boss Murphy was the head of Tammany Hall. Louis Haffen, a Tammany man, had been borough president of the Bronx — until last Sunday. 'But you just had Haffen kicked out of office, sir. By Governor Hughes.'
'Hughes was down the road, at Mr Colgate's, with Governor Fort.'
'I don't understand, sir.'
'I was there, Detective, to hear what conditions Murphy would demand in exchange for making me Tammany's mayoral candidate.'
Littlemore said nothing. The news astonished him.
Everyone knew the mayor had declared himself the enemy of Tammany Hall. He had sworn to have no dealings with the likes of Murphy.
McClellan went on. 'George persuaded me to go. He argued that, with Haffen's dismissal, Murphy might be willing to deal. He was. Murphy desired me to install Haffen in the office of the comptroller. Not right away, but in a month or two. If I agreed, Justice Gaynor would stand down. I become the nominee, and the election is mine. They claimed that Hughes wanted me nominated, which rather surprised me, and they volunteered to commit themselves before the governor that very night, if only I would give them my word.'
'What did you say, sir?'
'I told him that Mr Haffen was not in need of a new post, having already embezzled a quarter of a million dollars from the city in his last one. George was quite disappointed. He wanted me to accept. No doubt he has profited from our friendship, Littlemore, but he has earned every dollar the city paid him. In fact, I gave him his last payment this week, not a penny more than his original bid. And no, I don't see how he could have killed Miss Riverford at Saranac Inn. We left the Grand View at nine- thirty or ten, dropped in at Colgate's, and returned to the city together. We rode in my car, arriving in Manhattan at seven in the morning. I don't believe Banwell was out of my sight for more than five or ten minutes at a time the entire night. Why he would misrepresent the location of Miss Riverford's family is a mystery to me — if he did.
He may have meant that Riverford lives in one of the surrounding towns.'
'We're checking them now, sir.'
'At any rate, he could not have killed her.'
'I don't believe he did, Your Honor. I wanted to rule him out. But I'm close, sir. Real close. I have a good lead on the murderer.'
'Good heavens, Littlemore. Why didn't you say so? Who is it?'
'If you don't mind, sir, I'll know if my lead pans out tonight. If I could just wait until then.'
The mayor agreed. But before he dismissed Littlemore, he gave the detective a card with a telephone number on it. 'That is the telephone in my house,' he said. 'Call me at once, at any hour, if you discover anything.'
At eight-thirty Friday evening, Sigmund Freud responded to a knock at his hotel room door. He was dressed in a bathrobe, with dinner trousers, white shirt, and black tie beneath it. Outside his door was a tall young man, looking both physically and morally exhausted.
'Younger, there you are,' said Freud. 'My goodness, you look terrible.'
Stratham Younger made no reply. Freud could see immediately that something had happened to him. But Freud's store of sympathy was greatly depleted. The boy's dishevelment signified for him the general disarray into which things had descended since his arrival in New York. Must every American be involved in some kind of disaster? Couldn't at least one of them keep his shirt tucked in?
'I came to see how you were, sir,' said Younger.
'Apart from having lost both my digestion and my most important follower, I am quite well, thank you,' replied Freud. 'The cancelation of my lectures at your university will of course also be a source of satisfaction. Altogether a most successful journey to your country.'
'Did Brill go to the Times, sir?' asked Younger. 'Did he find out if the article is genuine?'
'Yes. It is genuine,' Freud said. 'Jung gave the interview.'
'I will go to President Hall tomorrow, Dr Freud. I read the article. It is gossip, anonymous gossip. I am sure I can persuade Hall not to cancel. Jung says nothing against you.'
'Nothing against me?' Freud laughed derisively, recollecting his last exchange with Jung. 'He has repudiated Oedipus. He has rejected the sexual aetiology. He denies even that a man's childhood experiences are the source of his neuroses. As a result, your medical establishment has thrown its weight behind him, rather than me. And your President Hall apparently intends to follow suit.'
The two men remained at the threshold of Freud's hotel room, one on either side. Freud did not invite Younger in. Neither spoke.
Younger broke the silence. 'I was twenty-two when I first read your work, sir. The moment I read it, I knew the world would never be the same. Yours are the most important ideas of the century. America is hungry for them. I am certain of it.'
Freud opened his mouth to answer, but his reply died on his lips. He softened. 'You're a good boy, Younger,' he said, sighing. 'I'm sorry. As for hunger, I should not stake too much on it: a hungry man will eat anything. Speaking of which, we are going to Brill's again for dinner. Ferenczi is just on his way. You'll join us?'
'I can't,' Younger replied. 'I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes open.'
'For heaven's sake, what have you been doing all this time?' asked Freud.
'It would be hard to describe my last twenty-four hours, sir. Most recently, I have been with Miss Acton.'
'I see.' Freud observed that Younger hoped to be asked in, but he did not feel up to it. In fact Freud felt as exhausted as Younger looked. 'Well, you will tell me all about it tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow — right,' Younger replied, making to leave.
Perceiving Younger's disappointment, Freud added, 'Ah, I meant to tell you. Clara Banwell, we must think about her.'
'Sir?'
'All family life is organized around the most damaged person in it. We know that Nora has essentially substituted the Banwells for her own parents. The question then becomes which person in this constellation has suffered the greatest psychological injuries.'
'You think it might be Mrs Banwell?'
'We mustn't assume that it is Nora. Mrs Banwell is a compelling figure, as narcissists often are, but the men in her life have undoubtedly mistreated her in some profound way. Her husband, certainly. You heard what she said.'
'Yes,' said Younger. 'She told me more about that.'
'At Jelliffe's?'
