I didn't put it in my notes that Miss Nieder had disapproved of Mrs. Daumery, but I could have, and signed it.

"Helen's death broke my uncle up completely," Cynthia went on. "I never saw anything like it. I was still living in his apartment. He didn't say a word to me for three days – not a single word – nor to anyone else, and he didn't leave the apartment day or night – right in the middle of getting ready for the showings of the fall line – and then he said he was going away for a rest, and he went. Four days later the news came that he had committed suicide, and under the circumstances it didn't occur to me to question it."

When she paused Wolfe inquired, "Do you question it now?"

"I certainly do," she said emphatically. "I wasn't surprised, either, at the way he did it. He was always keyed up and dramatic, about everything. He was by far the best designer in New York, and he was the best showman, too. So you would expect him to do something startling about killing himself, no matter how unhappy he was. He took all his clothes off and jumped into a geyser in Yellowstone Park."

Wolfe let out a mild grunt. I gave her an admiring eye for her calm voice and manner in dishing out a fact like that, but of course it was a year old for her.

"Under the surface of that geyser," she said, "down below, the pressure in the pipe from above keeps the temperature far above the boiling point, according to an article about it I read in a newspaper."

"That seems conclusive," Wolfe murmured. "Why do you now question it?"

"Because he didn't die. Because he's not dead. I saw him last week, here in New York, alive."