EARTHSET AND EVENING STAR

Emmanuel Rubin, whose latest mystery novel was clearly proceeding smoothly,

lifted his drink with satisfaction and let his eyes gleam genially through his thick-lensed glasses. "The mystery story," he pontificated, "has its rules which, when broken, make it an artistic failure, whatever success it may have in the market place."

Mario Gonzalo, whose hair bad been recently cut to allow a glimpse of the back of his neck, said, as though to no one, "It always amuses me to hear a writer describe something he scrawls on paper as art." He looked with some complacency at the cartoon he was making of the guest for that month's banquet session of the Black Widowers. "If what you do is the definition of art," said Rubin, "I withdraw the term in connection with the writer's craft. -One thing to avoid, for instance, is the idiot plot." "In that case," said Thomas Trumbull, helping himself to another roll and buttering it lavishly, "aren't you at a disadvantage?"

Rubin said loftily, "By 'an idiot plot,' I mean one in which the solution would come at once if an idiot investigator would but ask a logical question, or in which an idiot witness would but tell something he knows and which he has no reason to hide."

Geoffrey Avalon, who had left a neatly cleaned bone on his plate as the only witness of the slab of roast beef that had oflerrsted there, said, "But no skilled practitioner would do that, Manny. What you do is set up some reason to prevent the asking or telling of the obvious." "Exactly," said Rubin. "For instance, what I've been writing is essentially a short story if one moves in a straight line. The trouble is the line is so straight, the reader will see its end before I'm halfway. So I have to hide one crucial piece of evidence, and do it in such a way that I don't make an idiot plot out of it. So I invent a reason to hide that piece, and in order to make the reason plausible I have to

build a supporting structure around it-and I end with a novel, and a damn good one." His sparse beard quivered with self-satisfaction.

Henry, the perennial waiter at the Black Widowers' banquets, removed the plate from in front of Rubin with his usual dexterity. Rubin, without turning, said, "Am I right, Henry?"

Henry said softly, "As a mystery reader, Mr. Rubin, I find it more satisfying to have the piece of information delivered to me and to find that I have been insufficiently clever and did not notice." "I just read a mystery," said James Drake in his softly hoarse smoker's voice, "in which the whole point rested on character i being really character 2, because the real character i was dead. I was put on to it at once because, in the list of characters at the start, character iL was not listed. Ruined the story for me." "Yes," said Rubin, "but that wasn't the author's fault. Some flunky did that. I once wrote a story which was accompanied by one illustration that no one thought to show me in advance. It happened to give away the point."

The guest had been listening quietly to all this. His hair was just light enough to be considered blond and it bad a careful wave in it that looked, somehow, as though it belonged there. He turned his rather narrow but clearly good-humored face to Roger Halsted, his neighbor, and said, "Pardon me, but since Manny Rubin is my friend, I know be is a mystery writer. Is this true of the rest of you as well? Is this a mystery writer organization?"

Halsted, who bad been looking with somber approval at the generous slab of Black Forest torte that had been placed before him as dessert, withdrew his attention with some difficulty and said, "Not at all. Rubin is the only mystery writer here. I'm a mathematics teacher myself; Drake is a chemist; Avalon is a lawyer; Gonzalo is an

artist; and Trumbull is a code expert with the government. "On the other band," he went on, "we do have an interest in this sort of thing. Our guests often have problems they bring up for discussion, some sort of mystery, and we've been rather lucky-"

The guest leaned back with a small laugh. "Nothing of the sort here, alas. Of the mystery, the murder, the fearful hand clutching from behind the curtain, there is nothing in my life. It is all very straightforward, alas; very dull. I am not even married." He laughed again.

The guest bad been introduced as jean Servais and Halsted, who bad attacked

the torte with vigor, and who felt a friendly glow filling him in consequence, said, "Does it matter to you if I call you John?" "I would not strike you, sir, if you did, but I pray you not to. It is not my name. jean, please."

Halsted nodded. "I'll try. I can manage that zh sound, but getting it properly nasal is another thing. Zhobng," be said. "But that is excellent. Most formidable." "You speak English very well," said Halsted, returning the politeness. "Europeans require linguistic talent," said Servais. "Besides, I have lived in the United States for nearly ten years now. You are all Americans, I suppose. Mr. Avalon looks British somehow." "Yes, I think he likes to look British," said Halsted. And with a certain hidden pleasure he said, "And it's Avalon. Accent on the first syllable and nothing nasal at the end."

But Servais only laughed. "Ah yes, I will try. When I first knew Manny, I called him 'roo-bang' with the accent on the last syllable and a strong nasalization. He corrected me very vigorously and at great length. He is full of pepper, that one."

The conversation had grown rather heated by this time over a general dispute concerning the relative merits of Agatha Christie and Raymond Chandler, with Rubin maintaining a rather lofty silence as though be knew someone who was better than either but would not mention the name out of modesty.

Rubin seemed almost relieved when, with the coffee well in progress and Henry ready to supply the postprandial brandy, the time came or im to tap t e water ass wit is spoon an say, o it, cool it, gentlemen. We are coming now to the time when our guest, jean Servais, is to pay for his dinner. Tom, it's all yours."

Tom scowled and said, "If you don't mind, Mr. Servais," giving the final s just enough of a hiss to make his point, "I'm not going to try to display my French accent and make the kind of jackass of myself that my friend Manny Rubin does. -Tell me, sir, how do you justify your existence?" "Why, easily," said Servais pleasantly. "Did I not exist, you would be without a guest today." "Please leave us out of it. Answer in more general terms,:'- "In general, then, I build dreams. I design things that cannot be built, things I will never see, things that may never be." "All right," said Trumbull, looking glum, "you're a science fiction writer like Manny's pal what's-his-name-uh-Asimov." "No friend of mine," said Rubin swiftly. "I just help him out now and then when he's stuck on some elementary scientific point."

Gonzalo said, "Is be the one you once said carried the Columbia Encyclopedia around with him because be was listed there?" "It's worse now," said Rubin. "He's bribed someone at the Britan-

nica to put him into the new 15th edition and these days he drags the whole set with him wherever he goes." "The new 15th edition-" began Avalon. "For God's sake," said Trumbull, "will you let our guest speak?" "No, Mr. Trumbull," said Servais, as though there bad been no interruption at all, "I am no science fiction writer, though I read it sometimes. I read Ray Bradbury, for instance, and Harlan Ellison." (He nasalized both names.) "I don't think I have ever read Asimov." "I'll tell him that," muttered Rubin, "he'll love it." "But," continued Servais, "I suppose you might call me a science fiction engineer." "What does that mean?" asked Trumbull. "I do not write of Lunar colonies. I design them." "You design them!" "Oh yes, and not Lunar colonies only, though that is our major task right now. We work in every field of imaginative design for pnivate industry, Hollywood, even NASA."

Gonzalo said, "Do you really think people can live on the Moon?" "Why not? It depends on what mankind is willing to do, how large an initial investment it is ready to make. The environment on the Moon can be engineered to the precise equivalent of Earth, over restricted underground areas, except for gravity. We must be content with a Lunar gravity that is one sixth our own. Except for that, we need only allow for original supplies from Earth and for clever en-

gineering-and that is where we come in, my partner and L" "You're a two-man firm?" "Essentially. -While my partner remains my partner, of course." "Are you breaking up?" "No, no. But we quarrel over small points. It is not surprising. It is a bad time for him. But no, we will not break up. I have made up my mind to give in to him, perhaps. Of course, I am entirely in the right and it is a pity to lose what I would have."

Trumbull leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and said, "Will you tell us what the argument is all about? We can then state

our own preferences, whether for you or for your partner." "It would not be a bard choice, Mr. Trumbull, for the sane," said Servais. "I swear it. -This is the way it is. We are designing a full Lunar colony, in complete detail. It is for a motion picture company and it is for a good fee. They will make use of some of it in a grand science fiction spectacle they are planning. We naturally supply far more than they can use but the idea is that if they have a totally selfconsistent picture of what may be-and for a wonder they want it as

scientifically accurate as possible-they can choose what they wish of it for Use." "I'll bet they bollix it up," said Drake pessimistically, "no matter how careful you are. They'll give the Moon an atmosphere." "Oh no," said Servais, "not after six Lunar landings. That error we need not fear. Yet I have no doubt they will make mistakes. They will find it impossible to handle low-gravity effects properly throughout and the exigencies of the plot will force some infelicities. "Still that cannot be helped and our job is merely to supply them with material of the most imaginative possible. This is my point as you will see in a moment. -We plan a city, a small city, and it will be against the inner lip of a crater. This is unavoidable because the plot of the movie demands it. However, we have our choice as to the identity and location of the crater, and my partner, perhaps because he is an American, goes for the obvious with an American directness. He wishes to use the crater Copernicus. "He says that it is a name that is familiar; that if the city is called Camp Copernicus that alone will breathe the Moon, exotic adventure, and so on. Everyone knows, be says, the name of the astronomer who first placed the Sun at the center of the planetary system and it is a name, moreover, that sounds impressive.

1, on the other hand, am not impressed with this. As seen from Copernicus, the Earth is high in the sky and stays there. As you all know, the Moon faces one side always to the Earth, so that from any spot on the Moon's surface the Earth is always more or less in the same spot in the sky."

Gonzalo said suddenly, "If you want the Lunar city to be on the other side of the Moon so that the Earth isn't in the sky, you're crazy. The audience will absolutely want the Earth there."

Servais held up his hand in agreement. "Absolutely! I agree. But if it is always there, it is almost as though it is not there. One gets too used to it. No, I choose a more subtle approach. I wish the city to be in a crater that is on the boundary of the visible side. From there of course, you will see the Earth at the horizon. "Consider what this introduces. The Moon does not keep the same side to the Earth exactly. It swings back and forth by a very small amount. For fourteen days it swings one way and then for fourteen days it swings back. This is called 'libration"'-be had paused here as though to make sure he was pronouncing it correctly in English-"and it comes about because the Moon does not move in a perfect circle about the

Earth. "Now, you see, if we establish Camp Babyee in the crater of that name, the Earth is not only at the horizon but it moves up and

down in a twenty-eight-day cycle. Properly located, the Lunar colonists will see the Earth rise and set, slowly, of course. This lends itself to imaginative exploitation. The characters can arrange for some important action at Earthset and the different positions of the Earth can indicate passage of time and raise the suspense. Some terrific special effects are possible, too. If Venus is near the Earth and Earth is in a fat crescent stage, Venus will then be at its brightest; and when Earth sets, we can show Venus, in the airless sky of the Moon, to be a very tiny crescent itself." "Earthset and evening star, and one clear call for me," muttered Avalon.

Gonzalo said, "Is there really a crater called Babyee?" "Absolutely," said Servais. "It is, in fact, the largest crater that can be seen from the Earth's surface. It is 29o kilometers across-180 miles." "It sounds like a Chinese name," said Gonzalo. "French!" said Servais solemnly. "A French astronomer of that name was mayor of Paris in .1789 at the time of the Revolution." "That wasn't a good time to be mayor," said Gonzalo. "So be discovered," said Servais. "He was guillotined in 1793."

Avalon said, "I am rather on your side, Mr. Servais. Your proposal lends scope. What was your partner's objection?"

Servais shrugged in a gesture that was more Gallic than anything he had yet said or done. "Foolish ones. He says that it will be too complicated for the movie people. They will confuse things, be says. He also points out that the Earth moves too slowly in the Moon's sky. It would take days for the Earth to lift its entire globe above the horizon, and days for it to lower entirely below the horizon." "Is that right?" asked Gonzalo. "It's right, but what of that? It will still be interesting."

Halsted said, "T'hey can fudge that. Make the Earth move a little faster. So what?"

Servais looked discontented. "That's not so good. My partner says this is precisely what the movie people will do and this alteration of astronomical fact will be disgraceful. He is very violent about it, finding fault with everything, even with the name of the crater, which be says is ridiculous and laughable so that he will not endure it in our report. We have never had arguments like this. He is like a madman." "Remember," said Avalon, "you said you would give in." "Well, I will have to," said Servais, "but I am not pleased. Of course, it is a bad time for him."

Rubin said, "You've said that twice now, jean. I've never met your

partner, so I can't judge the personalities involved. Why is it a bad time?"

Servais shook his head. "A month ago, or a little more, his wife killed herself. She took sleeping pills. My partner was a devoted busband, most uxorious. Naturally, it is terrible for him and, just as naturally, be is not himself."

Drake coughed gently. "Should be be working?" "I would not dare suggest he not work. The work is keeping him sane."

Halsted said, "Why did she kill herself?" Servais didn't answer in words but gestured with his eyebrows in a fashion that might be interpreted in almost any way.

Halsted persisted. "Was she incurably ill?" "Who can say?" said Servais, sighing. "For a while, poor Howard-" He paused in embarrassment. "It was not my intention to mention his name."

Trumbull said, "You can sa anything here. Whatever is mentioned in this room is completely confidential -Our waiter, too, before you ask, is completely trustworthy." "Well," said Servais, "his name doesn't matter in any case. It is Howard Kaufman. In a way, work has been very good for him. Except at work, he is almost dead himself. Nothing is any longer important to him." "Yes," said Trumbull, "but now something is important to him. He wants his crater, not your crater." "True," said Servais. "I have thought of that. I have told myself it is a good sign. He throws himself into something. It is a beginning. And perhaps all the more reason, then, that I should give in. Yes, I will. -It's settled, I will. There's no reason for you gentlemen to try to decide between us. The decision is made, and in his favor."

Avalon was frowning. "I suppose we should go on to question you further on the work you do and I suppose, moreover, that we should not intrude on a private misfortune. Here at the Black Widowers, however, no questions are barred, and there is no Fifth Amnent to plead. I am dissatisfied, sir, with your remarks concerning the unfortunate woman who committed suicide. As a happily married man, I am puzzled at the combination of love and suicide. You said she wasn't ill?" "Actually, I didn't," said Servais, "and I am uncomfortable at discussing the matter."

Rubin struck the empty glass before him 'witb his spoon. "Host's privilege," he said vigorously. There was silence. "Jean," be said, "you are my guest and my friend. We can't force

you to answer questions, but I made it clear that the price of accepting our hospitality was the grilling. If you have been guilty of a criminal act and don't wish to discuss it, leave now and we will say notbing. If you will talk, then, whatever you say, we will still say nothing." "Though if it is indeed a criminal act," said Avalon, "we would certainly strongly advise confession."

Servais laughed rather shakily. He said, "For one minute there, for one frightened minute, I thought I bad found myself in a Kafka novel and would be tried and condemned for some crime you would

rag ou o me agains my wi . en emen, ave commi e no crime of importance. A speeding ticket, a bit of creative imagination on my tax return-all that is, so I bear it said, as American as apple pie. But if you're thinking I killed that woman and made it look like suicide-please put it out of your heads at once. It was suicide. The police did not question it."

Halsted said, "Was she ill?" "All right, then, I will answer. She was not ill as far as I know. But after all, I am not a doctor and I did not examine her."

Halsted said, "Did she have children?" "No. No children. -Ah, Mr. Halsted, I suddenly remember that you spoke earlier that your guests had problems which they brought up for discussion, and I said I had none. I see you have found one anyway."

Trumbull said, "If you're so sure it was suicide, I suppose she left a note." "Yes," said Servais, "she left one." "What did it say?" "I couldn't quote it exactly. I did not myself see it. According to Howard, it was merely an apology for causing unhappiness but that she could not go on. It was quite banal and I assure you it satisfied the police."

Avalon said, "But if it was a happy marriage, and there was no illness and no complications with children, then- Or were there complications with children? Did she want children badly and did her husband refuse-"

Gonzalo interposed. "No one kills themselves because they don't have kids." "People kill themselves for the stupidest reasons," said Rubin. "I remember-"

Trumbull cried out with stentorian rage, "Damn it, you guys, Jeff has the floor."

Avalon said, "Was the lack of children a disturbing influence?" "Not as

far as I know," said Servais. "Look, Mr. Avalon, I am careful in what I say,

and I did not say it was a happy marriage." "You said your partner was devoted to his wife," said Avalon gravely, "and vou used that fine old word 'uxorious' to describe him." "Love," said Servais, "is insufficient for happiness if it flows but one way. I did not say that she loved him."

Drake lit another cigarette. "Ah," he said, "the plot thickens." Avalon said, "Then it is your opinion that that had something to do with the suicide."

arasse is ore an my op nion, sir. now it had something to do with the suicide." "Would you tell us the details?" asked Avalon, unbending just slightly from his usual stiff posture as though to convert his question into a courtly invitation.

Servais hesitated, then said, "I remind you that you have promised me all is confidential. Mary-Madame Kaufman and my partner were married for seven years and it seemed a comfortable marriage, but who can tell in affairs of this sort? "There was another man. He is older than Howard and to my eyes not as good-looking-but again, who can tell in affairs of this sort? What she found in him is not likely to be there on the surface for all to see."

Halsted said, "How did your partner take that?" Servais looked up and flushed distinctly. "He never knew. Surely, you are not of the opinion that I told him this? I am not the type, I assure you. It is not for me to interfere between husband and wife. And frankly, if I bad told Howard, be would not have believed me. It is more likely he would have attempted to strike me. And then what was I to do? Present proof? Was I to arrange matters so as to have them caught under conditions that could not be mistaken? No, I said nothing." "And be really didn't know?" asked Avalon, clearly embarrassed. "He did not. It had not been going on long. The pair were excessively cautious. The husband was blindly devoted. What woul4-bu?" "ne husband is always the last to know," said Gonzalo sententiously.

Drake said, "If the affair was so well hidden, bow did vou find out, Mr. Servais?" "Purest accident, I assure you," said Servais. "An incredible stroke of misfortune for her in a way. I bad a date for the evening. I did not know the girl well and it did not, after all, work out. I was anxious to be rid of her, but first-wbat would you have, it would not be gentlemanly to abandon ber-I took her home in an odd corner of the

city. And, having said good-by in a most perfunctory manner, I went into a nearby diner to have a cup of coffee and recover somewhat. And there I saw Mary Kaufman and a man. "Alas, it jumped to the eye. It was late; her husband, I remembered at once, was out of town, her attitude toward the man- Accept my assurances that there is a way a woman has of looking at a man that is completely unmistakable, and I saw it then. And if I were at all unsure, the expression on her face, when she looked up and saw me frozen in surprise, gave it all away.

941 left at once, of course, with no greeting of any kind, but the damage was done. She called me the next day, in agony of mind, the fool, fearful that I would carry stories to her husband, and gave me a totally unconvincing explanation. I assured her that it was a matter in which I did not interest myself in the least, that it was something so unimportant that I had already forgotten it. -I am glad, however, I did not have to face the man. Him, I would have knocked down."

Drake said, "Did you know the man?" "Slightly," said Servais. "He moved in our circles in a very distant way. I knew his name; I could recognize him. -It didn't matter, for I never saw him after that. He was wise to stay away."

Avalon said, "But why did she commit suicide? Was she afraid her husband would find oui?" "Is one ever afraid of that in such a case?" demanded Servais, with a slight lifting of his lip. "And if she were, surely she would end the affair. No, no, it was something far more common than that. Something inevitable. In such an affair, gentlemen, there are strains and risks which are great and which actually add an element of romance. I am not entirely unaware of such things, I assure you. "But the romance does not continue forever, whatever the story books may say, and it is bound to fade for one faster than for the other. Well then, it faded for the man in this case before it did for the woman-and the man took the kind of action one sometimes does in such affairs. He left-went-disappeared. And so the lady killed herself." "Trumbull drew himself up and frowned ferociously. "For that reason?" "I assume for that reason, sir. It has been known to happen. I did not know of the man's disappearance, you understand, till afterward. After the suicide I went in search of him, feeling he was in some way responsible, and rather promising myself to relieve my feelings by bloodying his nose-I have a strong affection for my partner, you understand, and I felt his sufferings-but I

discovered the fine lover

had left two weeks before and left no forwarding address. He bad no family and it was easy for him to leave, that blackguard. I could have tracked him down, I suppose, but my feelings were not strong enough to push me that far. And yet, I feel the guilt-" "What guilt?" asked Avalon. "It occurred to me that when I surprised them-quite unintentionally, of course-the element of risk to the man became unacceptably high. He knew I knew him. He may have felt that sooner or later it would come out and he did not wish to await results. If I had not stumbled into that diner they might still be together, she might still be alive, who knows?"

Rubin said, "That is farfetched, jean. You can't deal rationally with the ifs of history. -But I have a thought." "Yes, Manny?" "After the suicide your partner was very quiet, nothing is important to him. I think you said that. But now he is quarreling with you violently, though he has never done that before, I gather. Something may have happened in addition to the suicide. Perhaps now he has discovered his wife's infidelity and the thought drives him mad."

Servais shook his head. "No, no. If you think I have told him, you are quite wrong. I admit I think of telling him now and then. It is difficult to see him, my dear friend, wasting away over a woman who, after all, was not worthy of him. It is not proper to pine away for one who was not faithful to him in life. Ought I not tell him this? Frequently, it seems to me that I should and even must. He will face the truth and begin life anew. -But then I think and even know that be will not believe me, that our friendship will be broken, and he will be worse off than before."

Rubin said, "You don't understand me. Might it not be that someone else has told him? How do you know you were the only one who knew?"

Servais seemed a bit startled. He considered it and said, "No. He would, in that case, certainly have told me the news. And I assure you, he would have told it to me with the highest degree of baftna- tion and informed me that he at once attempted to strike the villain who would so malign his dead angel." "Not," said Rubin, "if be bad been told that you were his wife's lover. Even if be refused to believe it, even if he beat the informant to the ground, could he tell you the tale under such circumstances? And could he be entirely certain? Would he not find it impossible to avoid picking

fights with you in such a case?"

Servais seemed still more startled. He said slowly, "It was, of course, not 1. No one could possibly have thought so. Howard's wife

did not in the least appeal to me, you understand." He looked up and said fiercely, "You must accept the fact that I am telling you the truth about all this. It was not 1, and I will not be suspected. If anyone had said it was I, it could only be out of deliberate malice." "Maybe it was," said Rubin. "Might it not be the real lover who would make the accusation-out of fear you would give him away? By getting in his story first-" "Why should he do this? He is away. No one suspects him. No one pursues him." "He might not know that," said Rubin. "Pardon me." Henry's voice sounded softly from the direction of the sideboard. "May I ask a question?" "Certainly," said Rubin, and the odd silence fell that always did when the quiet waiter, whose presence rarely obtruded on the festivities, made himself heard.

Servais looked startled, but his politeness held. He said, "Can I do anything for you, waiter?"

Henry said, "I'm not sure, sir, that I quite understand the nature of the quarrel between yourself and your partner. Surely there must have been decisions of enormous complexity to make as far as the technical details of the colony were concerned." "You don't know even a small part of it," said Servais indulgently. "Did your partner and you quarrel over all those details, sir?" "N-no," said Servais. "We did not quarrel. There were discussions, of course. It is useless to believe that two men, each with a strong will and pronounced opinions, will agree everywhere, or even anywhere, but it all worked out reasonably. We discussed, and eventually we came to some conclusion. Sometimes I had the better of it, sometimes he, sometimes neither or both." "But then," said Henry, "there was this one argument over the actual location of the colony, over the crater, and there it was all different. He attacked even the name of the crater fiercely and, in this one case, left no room for the slightest compromise." "No room at all. And you are right. Only in this one case."

Henry said, "Then I am to understand that at this time, when Mr. Rubin suspects that your partner is being irritated by suspicion of you, he was completely reasonable and civilized over every delicate point of Lunar engineering, and was wildly and unbearably stubborn only over the single matter of the site-over whether Copernicus or the other crater was to be the place where the colony was to be built?" "Yes," said Servais with satisfaction. "That is precisely how it was and I see the point you are making, waiter. It is quite unbelievable to

suppose that he would quarrel with me over the site out of ill-humor over suspicions that I have placed horns on him, when he does not quarrel with me on any other point. Assuredly, he does not suspect me of ill-dealing. I thank you, waiter."

Henry said, "May I go a little further, sir?" "By all means," said Servais. "Earlier in the evening," said Henry, "Mr. Rubin was kind enough to ask my opinion over the techniques of his profession. There was the question of deliberate omission of details by witnesses." "Yes," said Servais, "I remember the discussion. But I did not deliberately omit any details." "You did not mention the name of Mrs. Kaufman's lover."

Servais frowned. "I suppose I didn't, but it wasn't deliberate. It is entirely irrelevant." "Perhaps it is," said Henry, "unless his name happens to be Bailey."

Servais froze in his chair. Then be said anxiously, "I don't recall mentioning it. Sacred- I see your point again, waiter. If it slips out now without my remembering it, it is possible to suppose that, without quite realizing it, I may have said something that led Howard to suspect-2'

Gonzalo said, "Hey, Henry, I don't recall jean giving us any name." "Nor I," said Henry. "You did not give the name, sir."

Servais relaxed slowly and then said, frowning, "Then how did you know? Do you know these people?"

Henry shook his head. "No, sir, it was just a notion of mine that arose out of the story you told. From your reaction, I take it his name is Bailey?" "Martin Bailey," said Servais. "How did you know?" "The name of the crater in which you wished to place the site is Bahyee; the name of the city would be Camp Babyee."

7y 'Yes. "But that is the French pronunciation of the name of a Freastronomer. How is it spelled?"

Servais said, "B-a-i-l-l-y. -Great God, Bailly!" Henry said, "In English pronunciation, pronounced like the not uncommon surname Bailey. I am quite certain American astronomers use the English pronunciation, and that Mr. Kaufman does too. You hid that piece of information from us, Mr. Servais, because you never thought of the crater in any other way than Bahyee. Even looking at it, you would hear the French sound in your mind and make no connection with Bailey, the American surname."

Servais said, "But I still don't understand." "Would your partner wish to publicize the name, and place the site of a Lunar colony in Bailly? Would he want to have the colony called Camp Bailly, after what a Bailey has done to him?" "But he didn't know what Bailey had done to him," said Servais. "How do you know that? Because there's an old saw that says the husband is always the last to know? How else can you explain his utterly irrational opposition to this one point, even his insistence that the name itself is horrible? It is too much to expect of coincidence." "But if he knew-if he knew- He didn't tell me. Why fight over it? Why not explain?" "I assume," said Henry, "he didn't know you knew. Would he shame his dead wife by telling you?"

Servais clutched at his hair. "I never thought- Not for a moment." "There is more to think," said Henry sadly. ,Avlat?" "One might wonder how Bailey came to disappear, if your partner knew the tale. One might wonder if Bailey is alive? Is it not conceivable that Mr. Kaufman, placing all the blame on the other man, confronted his wife to tell her he had driven her lover away, even killed him, perhaps, and asked her to come back to him-and the response was suicide?" "No," said Servais. "That is impossible." "It would be best, then, to find Mr. Bailey and make sure he is alive. It is the one way of proving your partner's innocence. It may be a task for the police."

Servais bad turned very pale. "I can't go to the police with a story like that." "If you do not," said Henry, "it may be that your partner, brooding over what be has done-if indeed he has done it-will eventually take justice into his own hands." "You mean kill himself?" whispered Servais. "Is that the choice you are facing me with: accuse him to the police or wait for him to kill himself?" "Or both," said Henry. "Life is cruel."

9 Afterword

I got the idea for this one when I was in Newport, Rhode Island, attending a seminar on space and the future, sponsored by NASA. It got in the way, too.

I was listening, in all good faith, to someone who was delivering an interesting speech. Since I was slated to give a talk too, I bad every reason for wanting to listen. And yet, when the craters of the Moon were mentioned, my brain, quite involuntarily, began ticking, and after some fifteen minutes had passed I had "Earthset and Evening Star" in my mind in full detail and had missed

the entire last half of the speech.

Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, alas, thought that the business with the craters was a little too recondite to carry the story and sent it back. I then took the chance that the craters might be just science-fictionish enough to interest Ed Ferman. I sent it to birn, he took it, and it appeared in the October 1975 issue of F & SF.