I took it in, and pinned to the blanket inside was a slip of paper. She got her bag from the stand and opened it, and by the time she had the paper out I was there to take it. A glance was enough to read what was on it, but instead of handing it to Wolfe across his desk I circled around to him for another look as he held it. It was a four-by-six piece of ordinary cheap paper, and the message on it, in five crooked lines, printed with one of those rubber-stamp outfits for kids, was brief and to the point: MRS. RICHARD VALDON, THIS BABY IS FOR YOU BECAUSE A BOY SHOULD LIVE IN HIS FATHERS HOUSE.

There were two pinholes near a corner. Wolfe put it on his desk, turned to her, and asked a question. Indeed?

I don't know, she said. Of course I don't. But it could be true.

Is it likely or merely credible?

I guess it's likely. She closed the bag and returned it to the stand. I mean it's likely that it could have happened. She gestured with the hand that sported a wedding ring. Her eyes came to me and back to Wolfe. This is in confidence, you know.

Yes.

Well… since I'm telling you I want you to understand. Dick and I were married two years ago it will be two years next month. We were in love, I still think we were, but I admit that for me there was this too, that he was a famous man, that I would be Mrs. Richard Valdon. And for hint there was my well, who I was. I was an Armstead. I didn't know how much that meant to him until after we were married, when he realized that I was sick and tired of being an Armstead.

She took a breath. He had a sort of a Don Juan reputation before he married me, but it was probably exaggerated those things often are.