QUICKER THAN THE EYE

Thomas Trumbull, who worked for the government as a cryptologist, was clearly uneasy. His tanned and wrinkled face was set in a carved attitude of worry. He said, "He's a man from the department; my superior, in fact. It's damned important, but I don't want Henry to feel the pressure."

He was whispering and be couldn't resist the quick look over his shoulder at Henry, the waiter at the Black Widower monthly banquets. Henry, who was several years older than Trumbull, had a face that was unwrinkled, and, as he quickly set the table, he seemed tranquil and utterly unaware of the fact that five of the Black Widowers were huddled quietly at the opposite end of the room. Or, if not unaware, then certainly undisturbed.

Geoffrey Avalon, the tall patent lawyer, bad, under the best of conditions, difficulty in keeping his voice low. Still, stirring his drink with a middle finger on the ice cube, he managed to impart sufficient hoarseness. "How can we prevent it, Tom? Henry is no fool." "I'm not sure anyone from the federal administration qualifies as a guest, Tom," said Emmanuel Rubin in a swerving non sequitur. His sparse beard bristled truculently and his eyes flashed through the thick lenses of his glasses. "And I say that even though you're in the category. Eighty per cent of the tax money I pay to Washington is expended in ways of which I strongly disapprove." "You've got the vote, haven't you?" said Trumbull testily. "And a fat lot of good that does, when the manipulation-" began Rubin, quite forgetting to keep his voice low.

Oddly enough, it was Roger Halsted, the mathematics teacher, whose quiet voice had sufficient difficulty in controlling a junior high school class, who managed to stop Rubin in mid-roar. He did it by placing his hand firmly over the smaller man's mouth. He said, "You don't sound very happy about your boss coming here, Tom." "I'm not," said Trumbull. "It's a difficult thing. The point is that

I've gotten considerable credit on two different occasions over matters that were really Henry's insights. I've had to take the credit, damn it since what we say here in this room is confidential. Now something has come up and they're turning to me, and I'm as stuck as the rest of them. I've bad to invite Bob here without really explaining why."

James Drake, the organic chemist, coughed over his cigarette and fingered his walrus-head bolo-tie. "Have you been talking too much about our dinners,

Tom?"

I suppose it could be viewed in that way. What bothers me is Henry, though. He enjoys the game, I know, when it is a game, but if there's real pressure and he won't-or can't-under that pressure-" "Then you'll look bad, eh, Tom?" said Rubin with just a touch; perbaps, of malice.

Avalon said frigidly, "I have said before and I will say it again that what began as a friendly social -get-together is becoming a strain on us all. Can't we have one session with just conversation?" "I'm afraid not this one," said Trumbull. "All right, here's my boss. -Now let's carry all the load we can and put as little as possible on Henry."

But it was only Mario Gonzalo walking noisily up the stairs, uncharacteristically late, and resplendent in his long hair, a crimson jacket, and subtly matching striped shirt, to say nothing of a flowing scarf meticulously arranged to display the effect of casualness. "Sorry I'm late, Henry-" But the proper drink was in his hand before he could say more. "Thanks, Henry. Sorry, fellows, trouble with getting a taxi. That put me in a grim mood and when the driver began to lecture me on the crimes and misdemeanors of the mayor I argued with him." "Lord help us," said Drake. "I always argue every tenth time I hear that kind of crap. Then be managed to get lost, and I didn't notice and it took us a long time to pull out. -I mean, he was giving me this business about welfare recipients being a bunch of lazy, free-loading troublemakers ltdT how no decent person should expect a handout but instead they should work for what they get and earn every cent. So I said what about sick people and old people and mothers with young children and be started telling me what a hard life he had led and he had never gone to anyone for a handout. "Anyway, I got out and the fare came to $4.80, and it was a good half dollar more than it should have been because of getting lost, so

I counted out four singles and then spent some time getting the

exact eighty cents change and I handed it to him. He counted it over, looked surprised, and I said, just as sweetly as I could, 'That's what you earned, driver. You looking for a handout too?"'

Gonzalo burst out laughing, but no one joined him. Drake said, "That's a dirty trick on the poor guy just because you egged him into arguing."

Avalon stared down austerely from his lean height and said, "You might have gotten beaten up, Mario, and I wouldn't blame him." 'That's a hell of an attitude you fellows are taking," said Gonzalo, aggrieved-and at that point Trumbull's boss did arrive.

Trumbull introduced the newcomer all round, looking uncommonly subdued as he did so. The guest's name was Robert Alford Bunsen and he was both heavy and large. His face was pink and his white hair was sleeked back from an old-fashioned part down the middle. "What will you have, Mr. Bunsen?" said Avalon, with a small and courtly bend at the middle. He was the only one present who was taller than the newcomer.

Bunsen cleared his throat. "Glad to meet you all. No-no-I've had my alcoholic calories for today. Some diet drink." He snapped his fingers at Henry. "A diet cola, waiter. If you don't have that, a diet anything."

Gonzalo's eyes widened and Drake, whispering philosophically through the curling smoke of the cigarette stub be held between his tobacco-stained fingers, said, "Oh well, he's government." "Still," muttered Gonzalo, "there's such a thing as courtesy. You don't snap your fingers. Henry isn't a peon." "You're rude to taxi drivers," said Drake. "This guy's rude to waiters." "That's a different thing," said Gonzalo vehemently, his voice rising. "That was a matter of principle."

Henry, who had shown no signs of resentment at being fingersnapped, bad returned with a bottle of soft drink on a tray and had presented it solemnly for inspection. "Sure, sure," said Bunsen, and Henry opened it and poured half its contents into an ice-filled glass and let the foam settle. Bunsen took it and Henry left the bottle.

The dinner was less comfortable than many in the past bad been. The only one who seemed unsubdued over the fact that the guest was a high, if a not very well known, official of the government was Rubin. In fact, he seized the occasion to attack the government in

the person of its surrogate by proclaiming loudly that diet drinks were one

of the great causes of overweight in America. -

"Because you drink a lot of them and the one calorie per bottle mounts up?" asked Halsted, with as much derision as he could pack into his colorless voice. 'They've got more than one calorie per bottle now that cyclamates have been eliminated on the basis of fallacious animal ex- periments," said Rubin hotly, "but that's not the point. Diet any thing is bad psychologically. Anyone overweight who takes a diet drink is overcome with virtue. He has saved two hundred calories, so he celebrates by taking another pat of butter and consuming three hundred calories. The only way to lose weight is to stay hungry. The hunger is telling you that you're getting less calories than you're expending-"

Halsted, who knew very well that there was a certain softness in his abdominal region, muttered, "Oh well." "But he's right, though," said Bunsen, attacking the veal Marengo with gusto. "The diet drinks don't do me any good, but I like the taste. And I approve of looking at matters from the psychological angle."

Gonzalo, frowning, showed no signs of listening. When Henry bent over him to fill his coffee cup, he said, "What do you think, Henry? I mean about the taxi driver. Wasn't I right?"

Henry said, "A gratuity is not quite a handout, Mr. Gonzalo. Personal service is customarily rewarded in a small way and to equate that with welfare is perhaps not quite just." "You're just saying that because you-!' began Gonzalo, and then he stopped abruptly.

Henry said, "Yes, I benefit in the same way as the taxi driver does, but despite that I believe my statement to be correct."

Gonzalo threw himself back in his chair and chafed visibly.

"Gentlemen," said Trumbull, tapping his empty water glass with a fork, as Henry poured the liqueur, "this is an interesting oWsion. Mr. Bunsen, who is my superior at the department, has a s61 puzzle to present to us. Let's see what we can make of it." Again, he cast a quick glance at Henry, who had replaced the bottle on the sideboard and now stood placidly in the background.

Bunsen, wiping his mouth with his napkin and wheezing slightly, also cast an anxious glance at Henry, and Trumbull leaned over to say, "Henry is one of us, Bob."

Trumbull went on, "Bob Bunsen is going to present merely the bare bones,

to keep from distorting your view of the matter with un-

necessary knowledge to begin with. I will remain out of it myself since I know too much about the matter."

Halsted leaned over to whisper to Drake, "I think it won't look good for Tom in the department if this doesn't work."

Drake shrugged, and mouthed rather than said, "He brought it on himself."

Bunsen, having adjusted the position of the breadbasket unnecessarily (he had earlier prevented Henry from removing it), began. "I will give you those bare bones of a story. There's a man. Call him Smith. We want him, but not just him. He's of little account. Clever at what he does, but of little account. If we get him, we learn nothing of importance and we warn off men of greater importance. If, however, we can use him to lead us to the men of greater importance-" "We all understand," interrupted Avalon.

Bunsen cleared his throat and made a new start. "Of course, we weren't sure about Smith to begin with. It seemed very likely, but we weren't sure. If he was indeed a link in the apparatus we were trying to break up, then we reasoned that he transferred the information at a restaurant be regularly frequented. Part of the reasoning was based on psychology, something I imagine Mr. Rubin would approve. Smith bad the appearance and patina of a well-bred man about town who always did the correct social thing. On that basis, we-"

He paused to think, then he said, "No, I'm getting off the subject and it's more than you need. We laid a trap for him." For a moment be reddened as though in bashfulness and then he went on firmly, "I laid the trap and it was damned complicated. We managed to beat down his caution, never mind how, and we ended with Smith having in his hand something he had to transfer. It was a legitimate item and would be useful to them, but not too useful. It would be well worth the loss to us if we had gained what we hoped to gain."

Bunsen looked about him, clearing his throat, but no one made a sound. Henry, standing by the sideboard, seemed a quiet statue. Even the napkin be held did not move.

Bunsen said, "Smith walked into the restaurant with the object on his person. After be left the restaurant he did not have the object on his person. We know therefore that he transferred the object. What we don't know is the exact moment at which he transferred it, how, and to whom. We have not been able to locate the object anywhere. Now ask your questions, gentlemen."

Trumbull said, "Let's try this one at a time. Mario?" Gonzalo thought a moment

and then shrugged. Twiddling his

brandy glass between thumb and forefinger, be said, "What did this object-as you call it-look like?" "About an inch across and flat," said Bunsen. "It had a metallic shine so it was easy to see. It was too large to swallow easily; heavy enough to make a noise if it were dropped; too thick to place in a crack; too heavy to stick easily to anything; not iron so there could be no tricks with magnets. The object, as I still call it, was carefully designed to make the task of transferring, or hiding, difficult" "But what did he do in the restaurant? He ate a meal, I suppose?" said Gonzalo. "He ate a meal as he always did." "Was it a fancy restaurant?" "A fairly elaborate one. He ate there regularly." "I mean, there's nothing phony about the restaurant?" "Not as far as we know, although in general that is not enough to allow us to display a blind trust in it and, believe me, we don't." "Who was with him at the-meal?" "No one." Bunsen shook his head gravely. "He ate alone. That was his custom. He signed the check when he was through, as he always did. He had an account in the restaurant, you see. Then he left, took a taxi and after a while he was stopped and taken into custody. The object was no longer in his possession." "Wait, now," said Gonzalo, his eyes narrowing. "You say he signed the check. What was it he wrote? Would you know?" "We know quite well. We have the check. He added a tip-quite the normal amount and we could find nothing wrong with that-and signed his name. That's all. Nothing more. He used the waiter's pencil and he returned that pencil. Nor did he pass along anything else, and the waiter did not escape scrutiny, I assure you."

Gonzalo said, "I pass." Drake, stubbing out his cigarette, lifted a gray eyebrow as Tmmbull's finger gestured at him. "I suppose Smith was kept under close surveillance while he was in the restaurant." "As close as though he were a coat and we were the lining. We had two men in that restaurant, each at a table near him. 41 rey were trained men and capable ones and their entire task was to note every movement he made. He could not scratch himself without being noticed. He couldn't fumble at a button, crook a finger, shift a leg, or raise a buttock without being noted." "Did he go to the men's room at any time?" "No, he did not. If he had, we would have managed to follow." "Were you there yourself, Mr. Bunsen?" "I? No, I'm no good for that kind of surveillance. I'm too noticea-

ble. What's needed to keep a man in view is a shadow with a good, gray face and an overwhelming lack of distinction in form and feature. I'm too big, too broad; I stand out."

Drake nodded. "Do you suppose Smith knew he was being watched?" "He may have. People in his line of work don't last long if they don't assume at every moment that they might be watched. In fact, to be truthful, at one point I got a clear impression he felt he was watched. I was across the street at a window, with a pair of binoculars. I could see him come out from the corner entrance of the restaurant. "The doorman held the taxi door open for him and Smith paused for just a minute. He looked about him as though trying to identify those who might be watching. And be smiled, a tight smile, not amusement, it seemed to me, as much as bravado. At that moment, I was sure we had lost. And, as it turned out, we had." "And you really are sure," said Drake, "that he had it on him when he walked into the restaurant and that he didn't have it on him when he left." "We really are sure. When he walked in, there was what amounted to a pickpocketing, an inspection, and a replacement. He had it; you can take that as given. When he left and took a taxi, that taxi driver was one of our men who came, when the doorman hailed him, in a completely natural manner. Smith got in with no hint of suspicion. We are positive about that. The driver, one of our best men, then- But never mind that. The point is that Smith found himself in a kind of minor trouble that had, apparently, nothing to do with us. He was arrested, taken to the police station, and searched. Later, when it became obvious that we couldn't find the object anywhere, he was searched more thoroughly. Eventually we used X rays."

Drake said, "He might have left the object in the taxi." "I doubt he could have done that with our man driving, and in any case, the taxi was searched. See here," said Bunsen heavily, "there's no point in thinking we are incompetent in our business. When I say we watched, I mean that we watched with professional attention. Wben I say we searched, I mean we searched with professional thoroughness. You won't catch us on details." "All right," said Drake, nodding, "but you missed, didn't you? The object was there and then it wasn't there, so either we call upon the supernatural or we must admit that somewhere you failed. Somewhere you blinked when you were watching or skipped when you were searching. Right?"

Bunsen looked rather as though he had bitten into a lemon. "There's no way of avoiding that conclusion, I suppose." Then, belligerently, "But show me where."

Drake shook his head, but Halsted intervened rapidly, his high forehead pink with excitement. "Now wait, the hand is quicker than the eye. The thing you're looking for was shiny and heavy, but did it have to stay that way? Smith might have pushed it into a lump of clay. 'Men he had something dull and shapeless which he could push against the bottom of the table or drop on the floor. It might still be there."

Bunsen said, "The hand is quicker than the eye when you have an audience that doesn't know what to watch for. We know all the tricks and we know what to expect. Smith couldn't have put the object into clay without our men knowing he was doing something.' He couldn't have placed it under the table or on the floor without our men knowing he was doing something." "Yes," said Halsted ' "but irf these quicker-tban-the-eye things, a diversion is usually created. Your men were looking somewhere else." "Phere was no diversion, and in any case the restaurant was searched quite thoroughly as soon as he left." "You couldn't have searched it thoroughly," protested Halsted. "There were still people eating there. Did you make them all leave?" "We searched his table, his area, and eventually all the restaurant. We are quite certain that he did not leave the object behind anywhere. He did not leave anything behind anywhere."

Avalon had been sitting stiffly in his chair, his arms folded, his forehead creased in a portentous frown. His voice boomed out now. "Mr. Bunsen," be said, "I am not at all comfortable with this account of yours. I recognize the fact that you have told us very little and that neither places, names, occasions, nor identifications have been given. "Nevertheless, you are telling me more than I want to know. Have you permission from your superiors to tell us this? Are you quite certain in your mind that each one of us is to be trusted? You rn 'i:gbt get into trouble as a result and that would be regrettable, bAt I must admit that that is not the point I am most concerned with at the moment. What is important is that I do not wish to become the object of questioning and investigation because you have seen fit to honor me with confidences I have not asked for."

Trumbull had vainly tried to break in and managed to say finally, "Come on,

Jeff. Don't act like the rear end of a horse." Bunsen raised a massive and pudgy band. "That's all right, Tom. I see Mr. Avalon's point and, in a way, he's right. I am exceeding my

authority and things will be sticky for me if some people decide they need a scapegoat. This little exercise of mine tonight, however, may get me off the book if it works. To my way of thinking, it's worth the gamble. Tom assured me it would be."

9'What you're saying," said Trumbull, forcing a smile, "is that if the department jumps on you, you'll jump on me." "Yes," said Bunsen, "and I weigh a lot." He picked up a breadstick and munched on it. "One more point. Mr. Avalon asked if I were sure you could each be trusted. Aside from the fact that Tom assured me you Could be-not that I consider it safe to trust to personal as-

surances from close friends-There has been a little bit of investigation. Nothing like a full-scale affair, you understand, but enough to give me some confidence."

It was at this point that Henry cleared his throat gently, and at once every face but that of Bunsen turned toward him. Bunsen turned only after he was aware of the shift of attention.

Truml)ull said, "Have you got something, Henry?" Bunsen turned a clearly astonished look in Trumbull's direction, but Trumbull said urgently, "Have you, Henry?" "I only want to know," said Henry softly, "if I have been cleared also. I suspect I have not and that I should retire."

But Trumbull said, "For God's sake, nothing critical is being said."

Bunsen said, "Besides, the damage is done. Let him stay." "It seems to me," said Henry, "that the damage is indeed done. Surely there is no longer any purpose to the investigation. The man you call Smith must know he is being watched. By the time you began to use X rays on him, be must have guessed that he bad been set up for a kill. -Is he still in custody, by the way?" ,,No, we had no grounds to keep him. He's released." ,,Then the organization of which he is a part must undoubtedly know what has happened, and they will change their modus operandi. He will not be used further, perhaps; others involved will disappear. Things will be entirely rearranged."

Bunsen said impatiently, "Yes, yes. Nevertheless, knowledge is important in itself. If we find out exactly bow he transferred the object, we will know something about a mode of operation we didn't know before. We will, at the least, get an insight into a system of thought. -It is always important to know."

Henry said, "I see." Trumbull said, "Is that all you see, Henry? Do you have any ideas?"

Henry shook his head. "It may be, Mr. Trumbull, that what has happened is complex and subtle. That would not be for me." "Bull, Henry," said Trumbull. "But it might be for Mr. Rubin," said Henry gravely. "I believe be is anxious to speak." "Darn right," said Rubin loudly, "because I'm annoyed. Now, Mr. Bunsen, you talk about watching carefully and searching thoroughly, but I think you'll agree with me when I say that it is very easy to overlook something which becomes obvious only after the fact. I can describe a way in which Smith could have transferred the object without any trouble and no matter how many people were watching him." "I would love to bear that description," said Bunsen. "Okay, then, I will describe exactly what might have happened. I don't say it did happen, but it could have happened. Let me begin by asking a question-" Rubin 'pushed his chair away from the table and, though he was short and small-boned, be seemed to tower. "Mr. Bunsen," he said, "since your men watched everything, I presume they took note of the details of the meal he ordered. Was it lunch or dinner, by the way?" "It was lunch and you are right. We did notice the details." "Then isn't it a fact that he ordered a thick soup?"

Bunsen's eyebrows raised. "A score for you, Mr. Rubin. It was cream of mushroom soup. If you want the rest of the menu, it consisted of a roast beef sandwich with a side order of french fried potatoes, a piece of apple pie with a slice of cheese, and coffee." "Well," muttered Drake, "we can't all be gourmets."

Rubin said, "Next, I would suggest that he finished only about half his soup."

Bunsen thought for a while, then smiled. It was the first time he had smiled that evening and he revealed white and even teeth that gave a clear indication that there was a handsome man beneath the layers of fat. "You know," he said, "I wouldn't bavc thought you coill k me a single question of fact concerning that episode that I could not instantly have answered, but you've managed. I don't know, offhand, if he finished his soup or not but I'm sure that detail is on record. But let's pretend you are right and he only finished half his soup. Go on." "All right," said Rubin, "we begin. Smith walks into the restaurant with the object. Where does he have it, by the way?" "Left pants pocket, when he walked in. We saw no signs whatever of his changing its position."

"Good," said Rubin. "He walks in, sits down at the table, orders his meal, reads his newspaper-was be reading a newspaper, Mr. Bunsen?" "No," said Bunsen, "be wasn't reading anything; not even the menu. He knows the place and what it has to offer." "Then once the first course was placed before him, be sneezed. A sneeze, after all is a diversion. Roger mentioned a diversion, but I guess be thought of someone rushing in with a gun, or a fire starting in the kitchen. But a sneeze is a diversion, too, and is natural enough to go unnoticed." "It would not have gone unnoticed," said Bunsen calmly. "He didn't sneeze." "Or coughed, or hiccuped, what's the difference?" said Rubin. "The point is that something happened that made it natural for him to pull out a handkerchief-from the left pants pocket, I'm sureand put it to his mouth." "He did no such thing," said Bunsen. "When he took away his hand," said Rubin, overriding the other's remark, "the object that had been in the left pants pocket was in the mouth."

Bunsen said, "I don't think it would have been possible for him to place the object in his mouth without our seeing him do so, or keep it there without distorting his face noticeably, but go ahead- What next?"

"The soup is before him and he eats it. You certainly won't tell me be pushed it away untasted." "No, I'm quite certain he didn't do that." "Or that he drank it from the bowl."

Bunsen smiled. "No, I'm quite sure be didn't do that." "Then there was only one thing he could do. He placed a tablespoon in the soup, brought it to his mouth, brought it back to the soup, brought it to his mouth, and so on. Correct?"

I must agree with that." "And on one of the occasions during which the tablespoon passed from mouth to bowl, the object was in it. It was placed in the soup and, since cream of mushroom soup is not transparent, it would not be seen there. He then drank no more of the soup and someone in the kitchen picked up the object." Rubin looked about at the others triumphantly.

There was a short silence. Bunsen said, "That is all you have to say, sir?" "Don't you agree that's a possible modus operandi?" "No, I don't." Bunsen sighed heavily. "Quite impossible. The hand

is not quicker than the trained eye, and the object is large enough to be an uncomfortable fit in the tablespoon bowl. -Furthermore, you again underestimate our experience and our thoroughness. We bad a man in the kitchen

and no item came back from our man's table without being thoroughly examined. If the soup bowl came back with soup in it, you can be sure it was carefully emptied by a most careful man." "How about the waiter?" interposed Avalon, forced into interest clearly against his will.

Bunsen said, "The waiter was not one of us. He was an old employee, and besides, he was watched too.Rubin snorted and said, "You might have told us you had a man in the kitchen."

I might have," said Bunsen, "but Tom told me it would be best to tell you as little as possible and let you think from scratch."

Avalon said, "If you had incorporated a tiny radio transmitter in the object-" "Then we would have been characters in a James Bond movie. Unfortunately, we must allow for expertise on the other side as well. If we bad tried any such thing, they would have tumbled to it. No, the trap bad to be absolutely clean." Bunsen looked depressed. "I put a hell of a lot of time and effort into it." He looked about and the depression on his face deepened. "Well, Tom, are we through here?"

Trumbull said unhappily, "Wait a minute, Bob. Damn it, Henry--" Bunsen said, "What do you want the waiter to do?" Trumbull said, "Come on, Henry. Doesn't anything occur to you?" Henry sighed gently. "Something did, quite a while back, but I was hoping it would be eliminated." "Something quite plain and simple, Henry?" said Avalon. "I'm afraid so, sir."

Avalon said, turning to Bunsen, "Henry is an honest man and lacks all trace of the devious mind. When we are through making fools of ourselves over complexities, he picks up the one straight thread we have overlooked." 1-

Henry said thoughtfully, "Are you sure you wish me to speak, Mr. Bunsen?" "Yes. Go on." "Well then, when your Mr. Smith left the restaurant, I assume that your men inside did not follow him out." "No, of course not. They had their own work inside. They had to make sure he had left nothing behind that was significant." "And the man in the kitchen stayed there?" "Yes."

"Well then, outside the restaurant, the taxi driver was your man; but it would seem fair to suppose that be had to keep his eye on the traffic so as to be able to be in a position where he could maneuver himself to the curb just in time to pick up Smith; no sooner, no later." "And a very good job be did. In fact, when the doorman hailed him, he neatly cut out another cab." Bunsen chuckled softly. "Was the doorman one of your men?" asked Henry. "No, be was a regular employee of the restaurant." "Did you have a man on the street at all?" "If you mean actually standing on the street, no." "Then surely there was a moment or two after Smith had left the restaurant, and before be had entered the taxi, when he was not being watched-if I may call it so-professionally."

Bunsen said with a trace of contempt, "You forget that I was across the street, at a window, with a pair of binoculars. I saw him quite well. I saw the taxi man pick him up. From the door of the restaurant to the door of the taxi took, I should say, not more than fifteen seconds, and I had him in view at every moment."

Rubin suddenly interrupted. "Even when you were distracted watching the taxi man maneuver to the curb?"'

He was universally shushed, but Bunsen said, "Even then." Henry said, "I don't forget that you were watching, Mr. Bunsen, but you have said you do not have the proper appearance for that kind of work. You do not watch, professionally." "I have eyes," said Bunsen, and there was more than merely a trace of contempt now. "Or will you tell me the hand is quicker than the eye? "Sometimes even when the hand is quite slow, I think. -Mr. Bunsen, you arrived late and did not hear Mr. Gonzalo's tale. He had paid a taxi driver exactly the fare recorded on the meter, and so customary is it to pay more than that, that every one of us was shocked. Even I expressed disapproval. It is only when the completely customary is violated that the event is noticed. When it takes place, it is apt to be totally ignored."

Bunsen said, "Are you trying to tell me that something was wrong with the taxi driver? I tell you there wasn't." "I am sure of that," said Henry earnestly. "Still, didn't you miss something that you took so entirely for granted that, even looking at it, you didn't see it?" "I don't see what it could have been. I have an excellent memory, I assure you, and in the fifteen seconds that Smith went from restau-

ran to taxi be did nothing I did not note and nothing I do not remember."

Henry thought for a moment or two. "You know, Mr. Bunsen, it must have happened, and if you had seen it happen, you would surely have taken action. But you did not take action; you are still mystified." "Then whatever it was," said Bunsen, "it did not happen." "You mean, sir, that the doorman, a regular employee of the restaurant, hailed a cab for Smith, who was a regular patron for whom be must have performed the same service many times, and that Smith, whom you described as a well-mannered man who always did the correct social thing, did not tip the doorman?" "Of course he-" began Bunsen, and then came to a dead halt.

And in the silence that followed, Henry said, "And if he tipped him, then surely it was with an object taken from the left pants pocket, an object that, fron-L your description, happened to look something like a coin. -Then he smiled, and that you saw."

2 Afterword

"Quicker Than the Eye" first appeared in the May 1974 issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine.

I have to make a confession here. In writing the Black Widower stories I have always been under the impression that I was doing my best to catch the spirit of Agatha Christie, who is my idol as far as mysteries are concerned. When I presented a copy of Tales of the Black Widowers to Martin Gardner (who writes the "Mathematical Recreations" column in Scientific American and who is a recently elected member of the Trap Door Spiders) I told him this and he read it with that in mind.

When he finished, however, he sent me a note to tell heethat in his opinion I had missed the mark. What I bad really done, he said, was to catch some of the flavor of G. K. Chesterton's "Father Brown" stories.

You know, be's right. I was an ardent fan of those stories even though I found Chesterton's philosophy a little irritating, and in writing "Quicker Than the Eye," I was strongly influenced by the great Cbestertonian classic, The Invisible Man.