e. forbes smiley iii couldn't stop coughing. no matter how he tried to suppress it it broke out into a hacking cough drawing glances from the pate trons sitting around him. the glass fish bowl at the library at yale university was quiet, except for the low mum of the air conditioning and the clicking of fingers on key boards, making smiley painfully aware of the noise he was making. at one point he pulled a hanker chief out of his pocket to uffle the size, and an blade fell onto the floor. he folded the cloth and put it back in his pocket, oblivious to hat had just happened. when people thought of forbes smiley, as he was universally known by friends, dealers, lie brarnse and clients, a few words sprang to mind. gregarious, jolly, larger than life. he spoke with a resonance of an italian tenor mangled by. his voice, was full of money. when he made phone calls he made sure to announce he was calling from the vine yard. his upper crust were tempered by a charming self deppry cation. he ingratiated himself with many librarians by i