"But then you had no motive," said Gonzalo.
"I can't say that. The theft might have been carried out as long as two weeks before the discovery. No one looked in that particular drawer in the safe for that period of time-except the thief, of course. It could be argued that after I took the assets the horse came through and made the theft unnecessary-too late."
"It might be argued," said Halsted, "that you took the money in order to place a large bet on the horse that came in."
"The bet wasn't that large, and I had other sources, but it could be argued so, yes."
Trumbull broke in, "But if you still have your job, as I suppose you do, and if your uncle isn't prosecuting you, as I assume he isn't… Has he gone to the police at all?"
"No, he can absorb the loss and he feels the police will only try to pin it on me. He knows that what I have told him is true."
"Then what's the problem, for God's sake?"
"Because there's no one else who can have done it. My uncle can't think of any other way of accounting for the theft. Nor can I. And as long as he can't, there will always be the residuum of uneasiness, of suspicion. He will always keep his eye on me. He will always be reluctant to trust me. I'll keep my job, but I'll never be promoted; and I may be made uncomfortable enough to be forced into resignation. If I do, I can't count on a wholehearted recommendation, and from an uncle, a halfhearted one would be fatal."
Rubin was frowning. "So you came here, Mr. Sand, because Gonzalo said we solved mysteries. You want us to tell you who really took the stuff."
Sand shrugged. "Maybe not. I don't even know if I can give you enough information. It's not as though you're detectives who can make inquiries. If you could tell me just how it might have been done-even if it's farfetched,that would help. If I could go to my uncle and say, 'Uncle, it might have been done this way, mightn't it?' Even if we couldn't be sure, even if we couldn't ever get the assets back, it would at least spread the suspicion. He wouldn't have the eternal nagging thought that I was the only possible guilty party."
"Well," said Avalon, "we can try to be logical, I suppose. How about the other people who work with you and your uncle? Would any of them need money badly?"
Sand shook his head. "Enough to risk the possible consequences of being caught? I don't know. One of them might be in debt, or one might be undergoing blackmail, or one might be greedy, or just have the opportunity and act on impulse. If I were a detective I could go about asking questions, or I could track down documents, or whatever it is they do. As it is-"
"Of course," said Avalon, "we can't do that either… Now you had both means and opportunity, but did anyone else?"
"At least three people could have gotten to the safe more easily than I and gotten away with it more easily, but not one of them had the combination, and the safe wasn't broken into; that's certain. There are two people besides my uncle and myself who have the combination, but one had been hospitalized over the period in question and the other is such an old and reliable member of the firm that to suspect him seems unthinkable."
"Aha," said Mario Gonzalo, "there's our man right there."
"You've been reading too many Agatha Christies," said Rubin at once. "The fact of the matter is that in almost every crime on record, the most suspicious person is indeed the criminal."
"That's beside the point," said Halsted, "and too dull besides. What we have here is a pure exercise in logic. Let's have Mr. Sand tell us everything he knows about every member of the firm, and we can all try to see if there's any way in which we can work out motive, means, and opportunity for some one person."
"Oh, hell," said Trumhull, "who says it has to be one person? So someone's in a hospital. Big deal. The telephone exists. He phones the combination to a confederate."
"All right, all right," said Halsted hastily, "we're bound to think up all sorts of possibilities and some may be more plausible than others. After we've thrashed them out, Mr. Sand can choose the most plausible and use it, too-"
"May I speak, sir?" Henry spoke so quickly, and at a sound level so much higher than his usual murmur, that everyone turned to face him.
Henry said, softly once more, "Although not a Black Widower-"
"Not so," said Rubin. "You know you're a Black Widower. In fact, you're the only one who's never missed a meeting."
"Then may I point out, gentlemen, that if Mr. Sand carries your conclusions, whatever they may be, to his uncle, he will be carrying the proceedings of this meeting beyond the walls of this room."
There was an uncomfortable silence. Halsted said, "In the interest of saving the ruin of an innocent person's life, surely-"
Henry shook his head gently. "But it would be at the cost of spreading suspicion to one or more other people, who might also be innocent."
Avalon said, "Henry's got something there. We seem stymied."
"Unless," said Henry, "we can come to some definite conclusion that will satisfy the club and will not involve the outside world."
"What do you have in mind, Henry?" asked Trumbull.
"If I may explain… I was interested to meet someone who, as Mr. Gonzalo said before dinner, never tells a lie."
"Now come, Henry," said Rubin, "you're pathologically honest yourself. You know you are. That's been settled."
"That may be so," said Henry, "but I tell lies."
"Do you doubt Sand? Do you think he's lying?" said Rubin.
"I assure you-" began Sand, almost in anguish. "No," said Henry, "I believe that every word Mr. Sand has said is true. He didn't take the money or the bonds. He is, however, the logical one against whom suspicion may rest. His career may be ruined. His career, on the other hand, may not be ruined if some reasonable alternative can be found, even if that does not actually lead to a solution. And, since he can think of no reasonable alternatives himself, he wants us to help him find some for him. I am convinced, gentlemen, that this is all true." Sand nodded. "Well, thank you."
"And yet," said Henry, "what is truth? For instance, Mr. Trumbull, I think that your habit of perpetually arriving late with a cry of 'Scotch and soda for a dying man' is rude, unnecessary, and, worse yet, has grown boring. I suspect others here feel the same."
Trumbull flushed, but Henry went on firmly. "Yet if, under ordinary circumstances, I were asked if I disapproved of it, I would say I did not. Strictly speaking, that would be a lie, but I like you for other reasons, Mr. Tram-bull, that far outweigh this trick of yours, so the telling of the strict truth, which would imply a dislike for you, would end by actually being a great lie. Therefore I lie to express a truth-my liking for you."
Trumbull muttered, "I'm not sure I like your way of liking, Henry."
Henry said, "Or consider Mr. Halsted's limerick on the first book of the Iliad. Mr, Avalon quite rightly said that Achilleus is the correct name of the hero, or even Akhil-leus with a 'k,' I suppose, to suggest the correct sound. But then Mr. Rubin pointed out that the truth would seem like a mistake and ruin the effect of the limerick. Again, truth creates a problem.
"Mr. Sand said that all lies arise out of a desire for self-protection or out of respect for social convention. But we cannot always ignore self-protection and social convention. If we cannot lie, we must make the truth lie for us."
Gonzalo said, "You're not making sense, Henry."
"I think I am Mr Gonzalo. Few people listen to exact words, and many a literal truth tells a lie by implication. Who should know that better than a person who carefully always tells the literal truth?"
Sand's pale cheeks were less pale, or his red tie was reflecting light upward more efficiently. He said, "What the hell are you implying?"
"I would like to ask you a question, Mr. Sand. If the club is willing, of course."