But Clayton wasn't that either, thought Kintyre. Something of the brash young salesman (where was it he started, Indianapolis? Some such place) and the construction-gang foreman of worsening days and the minor executive in a Midwestern wholesale house--something of what Margery would label "Babbitt," with all of her own class's glibness in labeling--remained in the transoceanic entrepreneur. Yes. But something else must have developed too. Kintyre had never quite discovered what. It was one reason he accepted most of Clayton's invitations. "Okay, lunch will be on its way. Siddown, Bob." Kintyre crossed his legs by the window and took out a cigarette. Clayton chose a cigar. "Do the police have a lead on Bruce's murder?" he asked. "How should I know?" "You were his best friend." Clayton's eyes locked with Kintyre's and held steady. "The boy wasn't killed for fun. Somehow, he asked for it. If we knew what he was doing in, say, the last week of his life--" "Hm. You have a point. He was seeing a good deal of you also, wasn't he?" "Yes. That's the main reason I asked you over today, Bob. Perhaps between us we could reconstruct most of his movements." Clayton chuckled. "Not that I think we'd solve the crime ourselves or any such nonsense, but organized information might help the police." "Well--" Kintyre's memory walked backward into darkness. "Let me think.... We were pretty busy till last week, with term's end and the start of final exams. After that it gets irregular, if you're on a faculty. You might have two exams on one day, and then none for three days. So Bruce had a certain amount of leisure all week. Huh--a week ago last Sunday--didn't he mention something about having gone across the Bay to see you?" "He did." Clayton looked at a note pad. "He came up to my apartment to ask if I couldn't fix his older brother up with a job." "So?" "So I know that type. I'd met him, once before. I said no. Bruce got mad when I wouldn't even interview this Guido character." Kintyre smiled. "I know what you mean. It's a side of him that not many people saw. He seldom lost his temper, but when it happened, it was awesome. I hope you kept yours." "It wasn't easy," said Clayton. "Actually, this was not the first time we'd talked about the brother. There was once, some months ago--but I don't recall the details." "I believe I remember. It came up _à propos des bottes_ in my office, when you and he and I were discussing the Book of Witches, didn't it? He mentioned having this brother who spoke Italian. You doubted Guido would be qualified for any very responsible position. Yes, it comes back to me now, you got almost obnoxiously smug about how you had started from zero and so could anyone else." "Less than zero in my case," said Clayton. His mouth twitched downward, ever so faintly. "It riled Bruce," said Kintyre. "But he got over his mad fast enough. He was almost too reasonable for his own good."