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difficulty. Then he said, "What rifle? I told you over and over that a rifle was out of the question. I expected no rifle. The would-be assassin in his letter spoke of getting me 'in his sights' and of 'getting off a clear shot.' The English language is such that this could refer to a camera as well as a rifle and there are a thousand cameras at every commencement. Anyone could carry a camera onto the field. So I kept watching the people in front of me. When someone lifted a camera in my direction—someone who had taken no pictures at all earlier—my man saw him at once and nabbed him."
    Jennings said, "You mean he just intended to take a picture of you?" "Not quite," said Griswold. "If he had had the chance to push the button, a poisoned dart would have shot from the camera. It would probably have missed me, but if not, it might have poisoned me. The man was held for observation and is still in a mental hospital, I believe."
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Irresistible to Women
    Baranov sighed. "I wouldn't want to imply that I have not been adequately successful in my relationship with the fair sex, but I must admit that there is usually an exertion of charm required. It's becoming almost more trouble than it's worth."
    The august confines of the Union Club were not often the sounding board of amatory reminiscences, I imagine, and I wasn't sure I wanted Baranov's.-I said, "It needn't be trouble. With some people, the exertion of charm is second nature." I preened a little.
    Jennings, however, said in a very snide way, "I've seen you at work and watched the women scatter. I'd try something else, if I were you."
    And from the depths of the armchair, from which I could have sworn there had come the faint suspiration of placid snoring, Griswold's voice sounded. "I knew a man once who was irresistible to women. No question of charm at all. Just by existing, he found them gathering about."
    "Lucky devil," said Baranov.
    "It depends on your definition of luck," said Griswold. "One of the women in question killed him—"
    I won't mention his name [said Griswold] or the names of the women involved. The incident made a medium-sized splash several decades ago, but it is now forgotten and might as well remain so. No need to revive the unpleasant past for survivors and descendants.
    I was called in on the case by the police, by the commissioner, in fact, who was a close friend of mine and who knew my facility for seeing to the heart of a matter, where lesser men would fail.
    "Griswold," he said, "there are four women involved and any one of them could have been the murderess. Every one of them had the motive, means and opportunity, and it's just a matter of picking out the one among them who did it."
    "The police can do that, can't they, if they dig around sufficiently? They have so limited a number of suspects."
    The commissioner said, "Yes, but it will take time and manpower, something it will be difficult to spare at the moment. If you will simply interview each of the women, I'm sure you will be able to spot the guilty party at once."
    I was always glad to help out the police, so I agreed to devote a day to it—something not lightly to be granted for I was a busy man in those days.
    I can differentiate the four women for you easily, for one had black hair, one brown, one red, and one blond. They were apparently not the only women in his life, but they were the four who had each visited him in the course of the afternoon and early evening of the fatal day. Each of them had been more or less firmly put to one side and dismissed, for Irresistible had found a new woman and was, temporarily at least, abandoning the competition. Naturally, each of the four was considerably upset.
    One of the four was sufficiently disturbed to return in the late evening in order to reason or plead with him. Apparently, she had found him adamant in his refusal, so she snatched up a kitchen knife, which was lying about the apartment, and sheathed it very neatly in his chest.