by Rex Stout
He was serious. "I know it is, Archie. I thought possibly you might need it."
"No, thanks. I bit their jugulars. It's a trick."
Fritz giggled and handed me the gun, and went to the kitchen. I strolled into the office. Clara Fox was gone, and I was reflecting that she might be looking at herself in the mirror with my silk pajamas on. I had tried them on once, but had never worn them. I had no more than got inside the office when the doorbell rang. As I returned to the entrance and opened the door, leaving the bolt and chain on, I wondered if it was the tenor calling me back to get my kick. But this time it was Saul Panzer. He stooc? there and let me see him. I asked him through the crack, "Did you find her?"
"No. I lost her. Lost the trail."
"You're a swell bird dog."
I opened up and let him in, and took him to the office. Wolfe was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. The tray had been moved back to its usual position, and there was a glass on it with fresh foam sticking to the sides, and two bottles. He was celebrating the hot number he was putting on.
I said, "Here's Saul."
"Good." The eyes stayed shut. "All right, Saul?"
"Yes, sir."
"Of course. Satisfactory. Can you sleep here?"
"Yes, sir. I stopped by and got a toothbrush."
"Indeed. Satisfactory. The north room, Archie, above yours. Tell Fred he is expected at eight in the morning, and send him home. If you are hungry, Saul, go to the kitchen; if not, take a book to the front room. There will be instructions shortly."
I went to the kitchen and pried Fred Durkin out of his chair and escorted him to the hall and let him out, having warned him not to stumble over any foreign objects that might be found on the stoop. But the dick had left the stoop and was propped against a fire plug down at the curb. He jerked himself up to take a stare at Fred, and I was hoping he'd be dumb enough to suspect it was Clara Fox with pants on, but that was really too much to expect. I barricaded again and returned to the office.
Saul had gone to the front room to curl up with a book. Wolfe stayed put behind his desk. I went to the kitchen and negotiated for a glass of milk, and then went back and got into my own swivel and started sipping. When a couple of minutes passed without any sign from Wolfe, I said indifferently, "That commotion in the hall a while ago was the Mayor and the Police Commissioner calling to give you the freedom of the city prison. I cut their throats and put them in the garbage can."
"One moment, Archie. Be quiet."
"Okay. I'll gargle my milk. It'll probably be my last chance for that innocent amusement before they toss us in the hoosegow. I remember you told me once that there is no moment in any man's life too empty to be dramatized. You seem to think that's an excuse for filling life up with-"
"Confound you." Wolfe sighed, and I saw his eyelids flicker. "Very well. Who was it in the hall?"
"Two city detectives, one a sergeant no less, with a warrant for the arrest of Clara Fox sworn to by Ramsey Muir. They tried to take us by storm, and I repulsed them single-handed and single-footed. Satisfactory?"
Wolfe shuddered. "I grant there are times when there is no leisure for finesse. Are they camping?"
"One's out there on a fire plug. The sergeant went to telephone. They're going to cover the back. It's a good thing Walsh and Hilda Lindquist got away. I don't suppose-"
The phone rang. I circled on the swivel and put down my milk and took it. "Hello, this is the office of Nero Wolfe." Someone asked me to wait. Then someone else: "Hello, Wolfe? Inspector Cramer."
I asked him to hold it and turned to Wolfe. "Cramer. Up at all hours of the night."
As Wolfe reached for the phone on his desk he tipped me a nod, and 1 kept my receiver and reached for a pencil and notebook.
Cramer was snappy and crisp, also he was surprised and his feelings were hurt. He had a sad tale. It seemed that Sergeant Heath, one of the best men in his division, in pursuance of his duty to make a lawful arrest, had attempted to call at the office of Nero Wolfe for a consultation and had been denied admittance. In fact, he had been forcibly ejected. What kind of co-operation was that?
Wolfe was surprised too, at this protest. At the time that his assistant, Mr. Goodwin, had hurled the intruders into the street single-handed, he had not known they were city employees; and when that fact was disclosed, their actions bad already rendered their friendly intentions open to doubt. Wolfe was sorry if there had been a misunderstanding.
Cramer grunted. "Okay. There's no use trying to be slick about it. What's it going to get you, playing for time? I want that girl, and the sooner the better."
"Indeed." Wolfe was doing slow motion. "You want a girl?"
"You know I do. Goodwin saw the warrant."
"Yes, he told roe he saw a warrant. Larceny, he said it was. But isn't this unusual, Mr. Cramer? Here it is nearly midnight, and you, an inspector, in a vindictive frenzy over a larceny-"
"I'm not in a frenzy. But I want that girl, and I know you've got her there. It's no use, Wolfe. Less than half an hour ago I got a phone call that Clara Fox was at that moment in your office."
"It costs only a nickel to make a phone call. Who was it?"
"That's my business. Anyhow, she's there. Let's talk turkey. If Heath goes back there now, can he get her? Yes or no."
"Mr. Cramer." Wolfe cleared his throat. "I shall talk turkey. First, Heath or anyone else coming here now will not be permitted to enter the house without a search warrant."
"How the hell can I get a search warrant at midnight?"
"I couldn't say. Second, Miss Clara Fox is my client, and, however ardently I may defend her interests, I do not expect to violate the law. Third, I will not for the present answer any question, no matter what its source, regarding her whereabouts."
"You won't. Do you call that cooperation?"
"By no means. I call it common sense. And there is no point in discussing it."
There was a long pause, then Cramer again: "Listen, Wolfe. This is more important than you think it is. Can you come down to my office right away?"
"Mr. Cramer!" Wolfe was aghast. "You know I cannot."
"You mean you won't. Forget it for once. I shouldn't leave here. I tell you this is important."
"I'm sorry, sir. As you know, I leave my house rarely, and only when impelled by exigent personal considerations. The last time I left it was in the taxicab driven by Dora Chapin, for the purpose of saving the life of my assistant, Mr. Goodwin."
Cramer cussed a while. "You won't come?"
"No."
"Can I come there?"
"I should think not, under the circumstances. As I said, you cannot enter without a search warrant."
"To hell with a search warrant. I've got to see you. I mean, come and talk with you."
"Just to talk? You are making no reservations?"
"No. This is straight. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Very well." I saw the creases in Wolfe's cheeks unfolding. "I'll try to restrain Mr. Goodwin."
We hung up. Wolfe pushed the button for Fritz. I shut my notebook and tossed it to the back of the desk, and picked up the glass and took a sip of milk. Then, glancing at the clock and seeing it was midnight, I decided I had better reinforce my endurance and went to the cabinet and poured myself a modicum of bourbon. It felt favorable going down, so I took another modicum. Fritz had brought Wolfe some beer, and it was already flowing to its destiny.
I said, "Tell me where Mike Walsh is and I'll go and wring his neck. He must have gone to the first drug store and phoned headquarters. We should have had Fred tail him."
Wolfe shook his head. "You always dive into the nearest pool, Archie. Some day you'll hit a rock and break your neck."
"Yeah? What now? Wasn't it Walsh that phoned him?"
"I have no idea. I'm not ready to dive. Possibly Mr. Cramer will furnish us a sounding. Tell Saul to go to bed and come to my room for instructions at eight o'clock."
I went to the front room and gave Saul
the program, and bade him good night, and went back to my desk again. There was a little white card lying there, fallen out of my notebook, where I had slipped it some hours before and forgotten about it. I picked it up and looked at it. Francis Horrocks.
I said, "I wonder how chummy Clara Fox got with that acquaintance she made. The young diplomat that sent her the roses. It was him that got her in to see his boss. Where do you suppose he fits in?"
"Fits in to what?"
So that was the way he felt. I waved a hand comprehensively. "Oh, life. You know, the mystery of the universe. The scheme of things."
"I'm sure I don't know. Ask him."
"Egad, I shall. I just thought I'd ask you first. Don't be so damn snooty. The fact is, I feel rotten. That Harlan Scovil that got killed was a good guy. You'd have liked him; he said no one could ever get to know a woman well enough to leave her around loose. Though I suppose you've changed your mind, now that there's a woman sleeping in your bed-"
"Nonsense. My bed-"
"You own all the beds in this house except mine, don't you? Certainly it's your bed. Is her door locked?"
"It is. I instructed her to open it only to Fritz's voice or yours."
"Okay. I'm apt to wander in there any time. Is there anything you want to tell me before Cramer gets here? Such as who shot Harlan Scovil and where that thirty grand is and what will happen when they pick Mike Walsh up and he tells them all about our convention this evening? Do you realize that Walsh was here when Saul took Hilda Lindquist away? Do you realize that Walsh may be in Cramer's office right now? Do you realize-"
"That will do, Archie. Definitely." Wolfe sat up and poured beer. "I realize up to my capacity. As I told Mr. Walsh, I am not an alarmist, but I certainly realize that Miss Fox is in more imminent danger than any previous client I can call to mind; if not danger of losing her life, then of having it irretrievably ruined. That is why I am accepting the hazard of concealing her here. As for the murder of Harlan Scovil, a finger of my mind points straight in one direction, but that is scarcely enough for my own satisfaction and totally insufficient for the safety of Miss Fox or the demands of legal retribution. We may leam something from Mr. Cramer, though I doubt it. There are certain steps to be taken without delay. Can Orrie Cather and Johnny Keems be here at eight in the morning?"
"I'll get them. I may have to pull Johnny off-"
"Do so. Have them here by eight if possible, and send them to my room." He sighed. "A riot for a levee, but there's no help for it. You will have to keep to the house. Before we retire certain arrangements regarding Miss Fox will need discussion. And by the way, the letter I dictated on behalf of our other client. Miss Lindquist, should be written and posted with a special-delivery stamp before the early-morning collection. Send Fritz out with it."
"Then I'd better type it now, before Cramer gets here."
"As you please."
I turned and got the typewriter up and opened my notebook, and rattled it off. I grinned as I wrote the "Dear sir," but the grin was bunk, because if Wolfe hadn't told me to be democratic I would have been up a stump and probably would have had to try something like "Dearest Marquis." From the article I had read the day before I knew where he was. Hotel Portland. Wolfe signed it, and I got Fritz and let him out the front door and waited there till he came back. The short dick was still out there.
I was back in the office but not yet on my sitter again, when the doorbell rang. I wasn't taking any chances, since Fred had gone home and Saul was upstairs asleep. I pulled the curtain away from the glass panel to get a view of the stoop, including corners, and when I saw Cramer was there alone I opened up. He stepped in and I shut the door and bolted it and then extended a paw for his hat and coat. And it wasn't so silly that I kept a good eye on him either, since I knew he had been enforcing the law for thirty years.
He mumbled, "Hello, son. Wolfe in the office?"
"Yeah. Walk in."
IX
WOLFE and the inspector exchanged greetings. Cramer sat down and got out a cigar and bit off the end, and held a match to it. Wolfe got a hand up and pinched his nostrils between a thumb and a forefinger to warn the membranes of the assault that was coming. I was in my chair with my notebook on my knee, not bothering to camouflage.
Cramer said, "You know, you're a slick son-of-a-gun. Do you know what I was trying to decide on my way over here?"
Wolfe shook his head. "I couldn't guess."
"I bet you couldn't. I decided it was a toss-up. Whether you've got that Fox woman here and you're playing for time or waiting for daylight to spring something, or whether you've sent her away for her health and you're kidding us to make us think she's here so we won't start nosing for her trail. For instance, I don't suppose it could have been this Goodwin here that phoned my office at half past eleven?"
"I shouldn't think so. Did you, Archie?"
"No, sir. On my honor I didn't."
"Okay." Cramer got smoke in his windpipe and coughed it out. "I know there's no use trying to play poker with you, Wolfe. I quit that years ago. I've come to lay some cards on the table and ask you to do the same. In fact, the Commissioner says we're not asking, we're demanding. We're taking no chances-"
"The Police Commissioner? Mr. Hombert?" Wolfe's brows were up.
"Right. He was in my office when I phoned you. I told you, this is more important than you think it is. You've stepped into something."
"You don't say so." Wolfe sighed. "I was sure to, sooner or later."
"Oh, I'm not trying to impress you. I've quit that too. I'm just telling you. As I told the Commissioner, you're tricky and you're hard to get ahead of, but I've never known you to slip in the mud. By and large, and of course making allowances, you've always been a good citizen."
"Thank you. Let us go on from there."
"Right." Cramer took a puff and knocked off ashes. "I said I'd show you some cards. First, there's the background, I'd better mention that. You know how it is nowadays, everybody's got it in for somebody else, and half of them have gone cuckoo. When a German ship lands here a bunch of Jews go and tear the flag off it and raise general hell. If a Wop professor that's been kicked out of Italy tries to give a lecture a gang of Fascists haul him down and beat him up. When you try your best to feed people that haven't got a job they turn Communist on you and start a riot. It's even got so that when a couple of bank presidents have lunch at the White House, the servants have to search the floor for banana peels that they may have put there for the President to slip on. Everyone has gone nuts."
Wolfe nodded. "Doubtless you are correct. I don't get around much. It sounds bewildering."
"It is. To get down to particulars, when any prominent foreigners come here, we have to watch our step. We don't want anything happening. For instance, you'd be surprised at the precautions we have to take when the German Ambassador comes up from Washington for a banquet. You might think there was a war on. As a matter or fact, there isi No one's ready for a scrap but everyone wants to hit first. Whoever lands at this port nowadays, you can be sure there's someone around that's got it in for him."
"It might be better if everybody stayed at home."
"Huh? Oh. That's their business. Anyway, that's the background. A coupie of weeks ago a man called the Marquis of Clivers came here from England."
"I know. I've read about him."
"Then you know what he came for."
Wolfe nodded. "In a general way. A high diplomatic mission. To pass out slices of the Orient."
"Maybe, I'm not a politician, I'm a cop. I was when I pounded the pavement thirty years ago, and I sdll am. But the Marquis of Clivers seems to be as important as almost anybody. I understand we get the dope on that from the Department of State. When he landed here a couple of weeks ago we gave him protection, and saw him off to Washington. When he came back, eight days ago, we did the same."
"The same? Do you mean you have men with him constantly?"
Cramer shook his head. "Not constantly. All public app
earances, and a sort of general eye out. We have special men. If we notice anything or hear of anything that makes us suspicious, we're on the job. That's what I'm coming to. At five-thirty-five tnis afternoon, just four blocks from here, a man was shot and killed. In his pocket he had a paper-*'
Wolfe showed a palm. "I know all about that, Mr. Cramer. I know the man's name, I know be had left my office only a few minutes before he was killed, and I know that the name of the Marquis of Clivers was on the paper. The detective that was here, Mr. Foltz I believe his name was, showed it to me.
"Oh. He did. Well?"
"Well… I saw the names on the paper. My own was among them. But, as I explained to Mr. Foltz, I had not seen the man. He had arrived at our office, unexpected and unannounced, and Mr. Goodwin had-"
"Yeah." Cramer took his cigar from his mouth and hitched forward. "Look here, Wolfe. I don't want to get into a chinning match with you, you're better at it than I am, I admit it. I've talked with Foltz, I know what you told him. Here's my position: there's a man in this town representing a foreign government on important business, and I'm responsible both for his safety and his freedom from annoyance. A man is shot down on the street, and on a paper in his pocket we find the name of the Marquis of Clivers, and other names. Naturally I wouldn't mind knowing who killed Harlan Scovil, but finding that name there makes it a good deal more than just another homicide. What's the connection and what does it mean? The Commissioner says we've got to find out damned quick or it's possible we'll have a first-rate mess on our hands. It's already been bungled a little. Like a dumb flatfoot rookie, Captain Devore went to see the Marquis of Clivers this evening without first consulting headquarters."
"Indeed. Will you have some beer, Mr. Cramer?"
"No. The marquis just stared at Devore as if he was one of the lower animals, which he was, and said that possibly the dead man was an insurance salesman and the paper was a list of prospects. Later on the Commissioner himself telephoned the marquis, and by that time the marquis had remembered that a week ago today a woman by the name of Clara Fox had called on him with some kind of a wild tale, trying to get money, and he had had her put out. So there's a tie-up. It's some kind of a plot, no doubt about it, and since it's interesting enough so that someone took the trouble to bump off this Harlan Scovil, you couldn't call it tiddly-winks. Your name was on that paper. I know what you told Foltz. Okay. What I've got to do is find those other three, and I should have been in bed two hours ago. First let me ask you a plain straight question: What do you know about the connection between Clara Fox, Hilda Lindquist, Michael Walsh, and the Marquis of Clivers?"
