Free The Return of the Black Widowers by Isaac Asimov Page A

other hand, your brother-in-law might break down if faced with it. You'll have to consider whether you wish to go to the police, sir."
    "I?" said Gonzalo hesitantly.
    "It was your sister, sir," said Henry softly.
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THE OBVIOUS FACTOR
    T
    homas Trumbull looked about the table and said, with some satisfaction, "Well, at least you won't get yourself pen-and-inked into oblivion, Voss. Our resident artist isn't here. . . . Henry!"
    Henry was at Trumbull's elbow before the echo of the bellow had died, with no sign of perturbation on his bright-eyed and unlined face. Trumbull took the scotch and soda the waiter had on his tray and said, "Has Mario called, Henry?"
    "No, sir," said Henry calmly.
    Geoffrey Avalon had reduced his second drink to the halfway point and swirled it absently. "After last month's tale about his murdered sister, it could be that he didn't—"
    He did not complete the sentence, but put down his glass carefully at the seat he intended to take. The monthly banquet of the Black Widowers was about to begin.
    Trumbull, who was host, took the armchair at the head of the table and said, "Have you got them all straight, Voss? At my left is James Drake. He's a chemist and knows more about pulp fiction than about chemistry, and that probably isn't much. Then Geoffrey Avalon, a lawyer who never sees the inside of a courtroom; Emmanuel Rubin, who writes in between talking, which is practically never; and Roger Halsted. . . . Roger, you're not inflicting another limerick on us this session, are you?"
    "A limerick?" said Trumbull's guest, speaking for the first time. It was a pleasant voice, light and yet rich, with all consonants carefully pronounced. He had a white beard, evenly cut from
    53 temple to temple, and white hair, too. His youthful face shone pinkly within its fence of white. "A poet, then?"
    "A poet?" snorted Trumbull. "Not even a mathematician, which is what he claims to be. He insists on writing a limerick for every book of the Iliad."
    "And Odyssey ," said Halsted, in his soft, hurried voice. "But, yes, I have my limerick."
    "Good! It's out of order," said Trumbull. "You are not to read it. Host's privilege."
    "Oh, for heaven's sake," said Avalon, the flat lines of his well-preserved face set in disappointment. "Let him recite the poor thing. It takes thirty seconds and I find it fun."
    Trumbull pretended not to hear. "You've all got it straight about my guest now? He's Dr. Voss Eldridge. He's a Ph.D. So is Drake, Voss. We're all doctors, though, by virtue of membership in the Black Widowers." He then raised his glass, gave the monthly invocation to Old King Cole, and the meal was officially begun.
    Halsted, who had been whispering to Drake, passed a paper to him. Drake rose and declaimed:
    "Next a Lycian attempted a ruse With an arrow — permitted by Zeus.
    Who will trust Trojan candor, as
    This sly deed of Pandarus Puts an end to the scarce-proclaimed truce?"
    "Damn it," said Trumbull. "I ruled against reading it." "Against my reading it," said Halsted. "Drake read it." "It's disappointing not to have Mario here," said Avalon. "He would ask what it means."
    "Go ahead, Jeff," said Rubin. "I'll pretend I don't understand it and you explain."
    But Avalon maintained a dignified silence while Henry presented the appetizer and Rubin fixed it with his usual suspicious stare.
    "I hate stuff," he said, "that's so chopped up and drowned in goop that you can't see what the ingredients are."
    Henry said, "I think you'll find it quite wholesome."
    "Try it; you'll like it," said Avalon.
    Rubin tried it, but his face showed no signs of liking it. It was noted later, however, that he had finished it.
    Dr. Eldridge said, "Is there a necessity of explaining these limericks, Dr. Avalon? Are there tricks to them?"
    "No, not at all, and don't bother with the doctorate. That's only for formal occasions, though it's good of you to humor the club idiosyncrasy. It's just that Mario has never read the