Again Wolfe stared at Benjamin for a moment. The only sound was the rain beating against the car's windows and roof.
"What do you mean," he asked, speaking very slowly, "you've seen the real diary? Why wouldn't you have told me that much sooner?"
"Because I didn't know I'd seen it!" Benjamin answered. He sat back, calmed himself. "At least, I'm fairly certain I have seen it."
"My god, Benjamin, a book that old? How could you not be sure whether you've seen it before or not?"
"Because the book I now believe is the original diary… well, it's not an exact match to the book Seaton showed us. Which is precisely why I think it was the real diary. Look, it's hard to explain. It would be much simpler just to show you. But I need to wait until we're back at the Foundation to be certain. They have a library?"
"An awfully good one," said Wolfe, "for so remote a spot."
"Good," Benjamin said firmly. "Let's get back to the Foundation, so I can be certain."
Wolfe started the car and eased it back onto the road. The rain was letting up slightly, but it was thick enough to make driving on such a narrow and winding road dangerous, and Wolfe devoted his attention to navigating the twists and turns.
After they'd been driving for a few minutes, Benjamin spoke again.
"Oh, and something else. Did you notice that portrait over the mantel?"
"You mean the rather stiff-looking gentleman?" asked Wolfe. "I just assumed he was a Colonial paterfamilias."
"Me, too," said Benjamin. "At first I thought it was a portrait of Gouverneur Morris. Then I realized I'd seen that painting before. It's a portrait of Major General Horatio Lloyd Gates."
"The Newburgh Gates?"
"One and the same," answered Benjamin. "I'd bet my career that painting is based on a sketch done during the war, a sketch I am sure I've seen. It was used as an illustration in a pamphlet he had distributed at Congress, part of his publicity campaign to replace Washington as commander in chief of the Continental Army. But what would a portrait of Gates be doing in the Morris mansion?"
"Ah," sighed Wolfe. "There's no 'X marks the spot' to all this. Not yet, anyway. I said we've been following Fletcher's bread crumbs. Let's keep on the trail and see where it leads. Though these seem dark and tangled woods, indeed."
Benjamin laughed.
"You find that funny?" Wolfe asked, surprised.
"No," said Benjamin. "It's just that the whole 'trail of bread crumbs' theme comes from Hansel and Gretel."
"Yes," said Wolfe.
"Well," said Benjamin, "I was just thinking about what nearly happened to them."
When they returned to the Foundation, Wolfe suggested that he would talk with Arthur while Benjamin pursued his research in the library, and they should meet in the dining hall in an hour.
"About Arthur," Benjamin asked, "you'll tell him about the fake diary?"
Wolfe smiled. "Nothing quite so precipitous. No, I'm largely interested in the first question he'll ask me about our visit to the Morris Estate."
"And what will that be?"
"How should I know," Wolfe said impatiently, "until he asks it?"
With that rather cryptic comment, Wolfe patted his shoulder and headed off to Terrill's office.
Wolfe had told Benjamin that the Foundation library was back behind the laboratory building, so he walked through the manse's foyer and on out into the quad.
The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had begun, but the downpour had left puddles in the grass and on the cobblestone walkway. The copper gables of the dining hall and manse glistened faintly in the dim, gray light.
Benjamin felt a sudden sense of oppression, and realized that his deepest desire was to return to his room and get some sleep. He couldn't believe he'd been at the Foundation for only two days-not even that-and already his life before this seemed a distant memory.
As he crossed the quad, he saw Gudrun sitting on one of the benches. She smiled as he walked up to her. She was dressed in a tailored beige corduroy jacket, crisp white blouse, and tight black slacks, the toes of shiny black dress boots visible beneath the cuff of the pants. Her blond hair was fastened at the back in a ponytail. Benjamin thought she looked every inch the wealthy country gentlewoman out to stroll the grounds of her weekend estate.
"So," she said, rising, "you and Samuel visited the Morris digs?"
"Yes," said Benjamin, surprised. "But how did-"
"I told you, the campus is like a small town," Gudrun said. "So, what did you think?"
"Impressive," he said, keeping it simple.
Gudrun smiled at his understatement. "At the very least. There was a reception there some time ago for the Foundation fellows." She stopped, looked him in the eyes, smiling now as he'd seen her do at dinner the night before-but this time it seemed more genuine. "I imagine their book collection is like King Solomon's treasure for someone like you?"
"Well, we certainly didn't see all of it, but what we did see-"
"Benjamin," she interrupted him, "I know I came on rather strong last night. I just wanted you to know… I do like you, Benjamin. Under other circumstances… well, I just mean, with all this going on, this can't be the best impression of the Foundation for you."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm just saying, Benjamin, you might… what we do here, we believe in it, all of us. Do you understand that?"
"Well, yes, I imagine you do." He hoped he didn't sound too critical.
Gudrun reached into the breast pocket of her jacket, extracted a pack of cigarettes and lighter. She pulled out a cigarette, offered one to Benjamin-he declined-and she lit up. She took a long drag on the cigarette and then turned to him.
"I mean it's easy to become cynical. When your whole life people have treated you as some sort of prodigy…" She took another drag on the cigarette. "Well, you must know that feeling of infallibility."
"Infallibility?" he asked. He shook his head. "Hardly. I'm good at memorizing names and dates, that's about it. That doesn't come close to what Dr. Fletcher did. His work, it's-"
"Benjamin, I lied to you," she said abruptly.
"What?"
Gudrun threw the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.
"I did make an appointment to speak to Jeremy," she said. "I don't know exactly why I lied, I just…" She shook her head. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I just didn't want to be associated with anything… potentially embarrassing. My career is very important to me. This fellowship at the Foundation, it could mean… anyway, I am sorry." She smiled. "Do you believe me?"
"I… understand," Benjamin said.
"Do you?" she asked, sensing his hesitation. "Do you have some time now? We really didn't get a chance to talk last night."
Benjamin hesitated. "Well, I was just on my way to the library…"
"Then later perhaps? This evening, after dinner? We could take up where we left off?" Again she smiled a bright and what seemed to Benjamin an utterly sincere smile. And again he felt flattered by her attention. He nodded.
"All right then," she said. "I'll let you get off to your musty books." She leaned closer and kissed him briefly on the cheek. And she walked off slowly, as though deep in thought.