and you'll appreciate it better. I'm sure you'll agree that the best way to handle it is to cherish and covet her at a distance, but the question is what distance. A mile is a distance, but so is a yard or even an inch. I wish I knew more about poetry. If I could turn out-'
'Shut up!' Wolfe bellowed.
I turned and said, 'Yes, sir. I was only remarking about the one single aspect of the party that struck me as worthy of remark. Was there any other?'
'No.' He had straightened up.
'Then there's no argument. I might as well go on remarking about Miss Tiger. Two days ago I said there wasn't one sensible thing anybody could do. Now it's even worse; there's not even one unsensible thing.'
'Confound it, don't sit there inventing grotesque words!'
'Shall I go?' Saul asked.
'No. When Archie exhausts inanity he may have a suggestion. I won't. It's hopeless. Whatever Vaughn saw or heard there yesterday is buried beyond recovery. One of those six people either killed him or knows who did, but that key to his identity is undiscoverable. There's another one somewhere, but a hundred men might not find it in a hundred days. Saul?'
'I'm sorry.'
'Archie?'
'Sorry and sad.'
He glared. 'Two highiy trained and highly skilled men, and what good are you? Go somewhere. Do something. Am I to sit here another evening, and go up to bed, contemplating frustration? Reflecting, in desperation, as I did day before yesterday on a diphthong?'
Saul and I exchanged glances. Our genius was going potty on us. To humor him I inquired, 'A diphthong?'
'Yes. Tenuous almost to nullity, it was unworthy of consideration. It still is. But I'm bereft, and it's a fact. Get Mr. Vaughn.'
For half a second I thought he was worse than potty; then, realizing that there was a Mr. Vaughn who was still alive, and that diphthonp might be his hobby, I got at the phone. With his son not yet buried, Samuel Vaughn probably wouldn't be at Heron Manhattan, Inc., but I tried it on the chance, was told that he wasn't in today, and dialed his home number. He wasn't accessible until I made it clear that Nero Wolfe wanted to ask him a question-I didn't say about a diphthong-and in a couple of minutes I had him, and Wolfe took his phone.
'I presume to disturb you, Mr. Vaughn, only because I am concerned with the death of your son in connection with my investigation of the death of Susan Brooke, and I need a bit of information you may be able to supply. According to the published accounts, your son graduated from Harvard in nineteen fifty-nine. Is that correct?'
'Yes. Why do you ask?'
'To lead to the next question. I'd rather not elucidate now, but it's possible that this will be helpful in identifying a murderer. Do you know if your son was acquainted with a fellow student named Richard Ault? A-U-L-T. Perhaps a classmate?'
'I'm afraid I don't- Walt a minute… yes, I do. That was the name of the boy that committed suicide that summer, after they graduated. My son told me about it. Yes, he knew him rather well; they took the same courses. But I don't understand… what possible connection '
'There may be none. I f I find one, you'll understand then. Do you know if your son ever visited Richard Ault at his home-perhaps at vacation time?'
'Where was his home?'
'Evansville, Indiana.'
'Then he didn't. I'm sure he didn't. Have you any reason to think he did?'
'No. I'm obliged to you. Mr. Vaughn, for indulging me. If this leads to anything, the obligation will be canceled.'
As I cradled the receiver my eyes were narrowed at it. I was considering diphthongs. Ch? Gh? Au? Wh? Br? I'd have to look it up. Too many years had passed since the fourth grade, or maybe fifth. I was interrupted by Wolfe saying, 'Get Mr. Drucker.'
Again it took me half a second to catch up; it had been ten days since I had eaten roast beef and apple pie with Otto Dnicker, the distinguished citizen, in my hotel room in Racine. I got his number from the file and put in the call, and when I got him I took time for a few sociable remarks before passing him to Wolfe. He told Wolfe it was a pleasure to speak with a man whose career he had followed with interest and admiration.
Wolfe grunted. 'I may forfeit the admiration by the job I'm on now. You may be able to supply some needed information. I suppose you remember your conversation with Mr. Goodwin?'
'Certainly. Susan Brooke. Are you still on that?'
'I am. I'm floundering. What can you tell me of the young man who shot himself on the porch of the Brooke house?'
'Not much. I told Goodwin all I know. I didn't even remember his name.'
'His name was Richard Ault. Do you know if any member of his family came to Racine? Or any representative of the family?'
'I don't know, but I don't think so. As far as I recollect, they held the body here only a day or two and shipped it. I don't remember that anyone came to get it. I can find out.'
