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to support it and you may get yourself into serious trouble.”
    Stellar said impatiently, “I wish all of you would take it for granted that an experienced writer is aware of what libel and slander are. —Is there a telephone handy, Henry?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Henry. “I can bring one to the table. —May I also suggest caution?”
    “Don't worry,” said Stellar as he dialed. He waited a moment, then, “Hello, Mrs. Bercovich? This is Mort Stellar, one of the writers for your husband's magazine. May I speak to Joel? —Oh, sure, I'll wait” He did not look up from the telephone as he waited. “Hello, Joel, sorry to call you at home, but I've been going over the piece on formality. You don't have it scheduled, do you? —Well, all right, I didn't feel like waiting on this because I didn't want to weaken. You can shorten it if you want. —Oh, sure, that's all right. —No, Joel, just a minute, no. I don't want you to do it. I've got some things I -want cut out and maybe that will satisfy you. —For instance, that time I have about eating the salt, instead of the meat isn't funny, now that I think of it. —Yes, that's right. Suppose I cut out that part about the woman refusing the salted meat. Will you publish it if I cut that out?”
    There was a pause at this moment and now Stellar looked up at the others, grinning. Then he said, “All right, Joel. —Sure I can do it. How about 11 A.M.? —Okay, see you then.”
    Stellar looked complacent. “It hit him right between the eyes. He repeated the line to me. You can't tell me that he remembered that passage, in an article he bought two years ago, right off the top of his head, unless it had special meaning to him. I'll bet you're right after all, Henry. —Well, I'll cut it. The important thing is that I'll get my article into print.”
    Avalon frowned and said with heavy dignity, “I should say that, from the standpoint of public morality, the really important thing is that a man may have tried to kill his wife and may even have actually done so and will get away with it.”
    Trumbull said, “Don't get virtuously aggrieved, Jeff. If Henry is right, then there's no way of proving that he did anything, or that if he did tamper with the salt it actually contributed to her death, so what is there to do? In fact, what do we have to do? The really important thing is that Stellar has done it all. He's given the man two years of agony, first by writing the article and then by being constantly after him to publish it.”
    Henry said, 'The really important thing, sir, may be that Mr. Bercovich will, as a result of all this, be discouraged from attempting similar experiments in the future. After all, he has a second wife now, and he may grow tired of her too.”

    1    Afterword

    I am sometimes asked whether any of the regular members of the Black Widowers is modeled on me. The answer is, No! Definitely not!
    Some people have thought that talkative know-it-all Manny Rubin is the author in disguise. Not at all! He is actually reminiscent of someone else, someone who is a dearly loved (talkative, know-it-all) friend of mine.
    In “When No Man Pursueth” (which appeared first in the March 1974 issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine) I took the liberty of introducing myself as the guest. Mortimer Stellar is as close as I could get to myself in appearance, profession, attitude, and so on.
    I showed the story to my wife, Janet, after I had written it and asked her how well she thought I had caught the real me. She said, “But the character you drew is arrogant, vain, nasty, petty, and completely self-centered.”
    I said, “See how close I got?”
    She said, “But you're not like Mortimer Stellar at all. You're—” And she went on to list a string of nice adjectives I won't bore you with.
    “Who'd believe that?” I said, and let the story stand as written.
    Incidentally, since I introduced myself into the story, I had better make sure no unwarranted conclusions are