“It's a lot of bunk!” When Sperling stood in front of her, Wolfe and I couldn't see her. Wolfe stated to Sperling's back, “I've barely started, you know. I've merely given you the background. Now I must explain the situation.” Gwenn was on her feet at once, saying firmly, “You won't need me for that. I know what the situation is well enough.” They all started talking. Madeline had hold of Gwenn's arm. Sperling was out of her depth but was flapping. Jimmy was being completely ignored but kept trying.
Wolfe allowed them a couple of minutes and then cut in sharply.
“Confound it, are you a bunch of ninnies?” Sperling wheeled on him. “You shouldn't have done it like this! You should have told me! You should—” “Nonsense! Utter nonsense. For months you have been telling your daughter that Mr Rony is a Communist, and she has quite properly challenged you to prove it.
If you had tried to tell her this she would have countered with the same challenge, and where would you have been? I am better armed. Will you please get out of the way so I can see her?—Thank you.—Miss Sperling, you were not afraid to challenge your father to show you proof. But now you want to walk out. So you're afraid to challenge me? I don't blame you.” “I'm not afraid of anything!” “Then sit down and listen. All of you. Please?” They got back to their chairs. Gwenn wasn't so sure now that all she needed was a simple and steadfast refusal to believe a word. Her lower lip was being held tight by her teeth, and her eyes were no longer straight and stubborn at Wolfe.
She even let me have a questioning, unsure glance, as if I might contribute something that would possibly help.
Wolfe focused on her. “I didn't skimp on the background, Miss Sperling, because without it you can't decide intelligently, and, though your father is my client, the decision rests with you. The question that must be answered is this: am I to proceed to assemble proof or not? If I—” “You said you had proof!” “No, I didn't. I said I could prove it, and I can—and if I must I will. I would vastly prefer not to. One way out would be for me simply to quit—to return the retainer your father has paid me, shoulder the expense of my outlay on this job and restoration of my damaged property, and let X know that I have scuttled.
That would unquestionably be the sensible and practical thing to do, and I do not brag that I'm not up to it. It is a weakness I share with too many of my fellow men, that my self-conceit will not listen to reason. Having undertaken to do a job offered to me by your father in good faith, and with no excuse for withdrawal that my vanity will accept, I do not intend to quit.
“Another way out would be for you to assume that I am not a liar; or that if I am one, at least I am incapable of such squalid trickery as the invention of this rigmarole in order to earn a fee by preventing you from marrying a man who has your affection and is worthy of it. If you make either of those assumptions, it follows that Mr Rony is a blackguard, and since you are plainly not a fool you will have done with him. But—” “You said you could prove it!” Wolfe nodded. “So I can. If my vanity won't let me scuttle, and if you reject both those assumptions, that's what I'll have to do. Now you see why I gave you so full a sketch of X. It will be impossible to brand Mr Rony without bringing X in, and even if that were feasible X would get in anyway. Proof of that already exists, on the roof of my house. You may come with me and take a look at it—by the way, I failed to mention another possibility.” Wolfe looked at our client. “You, sir, could of course pay me my bill to date and discharge me. In that event I presume your daughter would consider my indictment of Mr Rony as unproven as yours, and she would proceed—to do what? I can't say; you know her better than I do. Do you want to send me home?” Sperling was slumped in his chair, his elbow resting on its arm and his chin propped on his knuckles, with his gaze now on Gwenn and now on Wolfe. “Not now,” he said quietly. “Only—a question—how much of that was straight fact?” “Every word.” “What is X's name?” “That will have to wait. If we are forced into this, and you still want me to work for you, you will of course have to have it.” “All right, go ahead.” Wolfe went back to Gwenn. “One difficulty in an attempt to expose X, which is what this would amount to, will be the impossibility of knowing when we are rubbing against him. I am acquainted, more or less, with some three thousand people living or working in New York, and there aren't more than ten of them of whom I could say with certainty that they are in no way involved in X's activities. None may be; any may be. If that sounds extreme, Miss Sperling, remember that he has been devising and spreading his nets all your lifetime, and that his talents are great.
“So I can't match him in ubiquity, no matter how many millions your father contributes to the enterprise, but I must match his inaccessibility, and I shall. I shall move to a base of operations which will be known only to Mr Goodwin and perhaps two others; for it is not a fantasy of trepidation, but a painful fact, that when he perceives my objective, as he soon will, he will start all his machinery after me. He has told me on the telephone how much he admires me, and I was flattered, but now I'll have to pay for it. He will know it is a mortal encounter, and he does not underrate me—I only wish he did.” Wolfe lifted his shoulders and let them down again. “I'm not whimpering—or perhaps I am. I shall expect to win, but there's no telling what the cost will be. It may take a year, or five years, or ten.” He gestured impatiently. “Not for finishing your Mr Rony; that will be the merest detail. It won't be long until you'll have to talk with him through the grill in the visitors' room, if you still want to see him. But X will never let it stop there, though he might want me to think he would. Once started, I'll have to go on to the end. So the cost in time can't be estimated.
“Neither can the cost in money. I certainly haven't got enough, nothing like it, and I won't be earning any, so your father will have to foot the bill, and he will have to commit himself in advance. If I stake my comfort, my freedom, and my life, he may properly be expected to stake his fortune. Whatever his resources may be—” Wolfe interrupted himself. “Bah!” he said scornfully. “You deserve complete candour. As I said, Mr Rony is a mere trifle; he'll be disposed of in no time, once I am established where I can be undisturbed. But I hope I have given you a clear idea of what X is like. He will know I can't go in without money and, when he finds he can't get at me, will try to stop the source of supply. He will try many expedients before he resorts to violence, for he is a man of sense and knows that murder should always be the last on the list, and of course the murder of a man of your father's position would be excessively dangerous; but if he thought it necessary he would risk it. I don't—” “You can leave that out,” Sperling cut in. “If she wants to consider the cost in money she can, but I'll not have her saving my life. That's up to me.” Wolfe looked at him. “A while ago you told me to go ahead. What about it now? Do you want to pay me off?” “No. You spoke about your vanity, but I've got more up than vanity. I'm not quitting and I don't intend to.” “Listen, Jim—” his wife began, but to cut her off he didn't even have to speak.
He only looked at her.
“In that case,” Wolfe told Gwenn, “there are only two alternatives. I won't drop it, and your father won't discharge me, so the decision rests with you, as I said it would. You may have proof if you insist on it. Do you?” “You said,” Madeline exploded at me, “it would be the best you could do for her!” “I still say it,” I fired back. “You'd better come down and look at the plant rooms too!” Gwenn sat gazing at Wolfe, not stubbornly—more as if she were trying to see through him to the other side.
“I have spoken,” Wolfe told her, “of what the proof, if you insist on it, will cost me and your father and family. I suppose I should mention what it will cost another person Mr Rony. It will get him a long term in jail. Perhaps that would enter into your decision. If you have any suspicion that it would be necessary to contrive a frame-up, reject it. He is pure scoundrel. I wouldn't go to the extreme of calling him a cheap filthy little worm, but he is in fact a shabby creature. Your sister thinks I'm putting it brutally, bu
t how else can I put it?
Should I hint that he may be not quite worthy of you? I don't know that, for I don't know you. But I do know that I have told you the truth about him, and I'll prove it if you say I must.” Gwenn left her chair. Her eyes left Wolfe for the first time since her unsure glance at me. She looked around at her family.
“I'll let you know before bedtime,” she said firmly, and walked out of the room. Chapter Eight
More than four hours later, at nine o'clock in the evening, Wolfe yawned so wide I thought something was going to give.
We were up in the room where I had slept Saturday night, if it can be called sleep when a dose of dope has knocked you out. Immediately after Gwenn had ended the session in the library by beating it, Wolfe had asked where he could go to take a nap, and Mrs Sperling had suggested that room. When I steered him there he went straight to one of the three-quarter beds and tested it, pulled the coverlet off, removed his coat and vest and shoes, lay down, and in three minutes was breathing clear to China. I undressed the other bed to get a blanket to put over him, quit trying to fight temptation, and followed his example.
When we were called to dinner at seven o'clock I was conscripted for courier duty, to tell Mrs Sperling that under the circumstances Mr Wolfe and I would prefer either to have a sandwich upstairs or go without, and it was a pleasure to see how relieved she was. But even in the middle of that crisis she didn't let her household suffer shame, and instead of a sandwich we got jellied consomme, olives and cucumber rings, hot roast beef, three vegetables, lettuce and tomato salad, cold pudding with nuts in it, and plenty of coffee. It was nothing to put in your scrapbook, but was more than adequate, and except for the jellied consomme, which he hates, and the salad dressing, which he made a face at, Wolfe handled his share without comment.
I wouldn't have been surprised if he had had me take him home as soon as the library party was over, but neither was I surprised that he was staying. The show that he had put on for them hadn't been a show at all. He had meant every word of it, and I had meant it along with him. That being so, it was no wonder that he wanted the answer as soon as it was available, and besides, he would be needed if Gwenn had questions to ask or conditions to offer. Not only that, if Gwenn said nothing doing I don't think he would have gone home at all. There would have been a lot of arranging to do with Sperling, and when we finally got away from Stony Acres we wouldn't have been headed for Thirty-fifth Street but for a foxhole.
At nine o'clock, after admiring Wolfe's yawn, I looked around for an excuse to loosen up my muscles, saw the coffee tray, which had been left behind when the rest of the dinner remains had been called for, and decided that would do. I got it and took it downstairs. When I delivered it to the kitchen there was no one around and, feeling in need of a little social contact, I did a casual reconnoitre. I tried the library first. The door to it was open and Sperling was there, at his desk, looking over some papers. When I entered he honoured me with a glance but no words.
After I had stood a moment I informed him, “We're upstairs hanging on.” “I know it,” he said without looking up.
He seemed to think that completed the conversation, so I retired. The living-room was uninhabited, and when I stepped out to the west terrace no one was to be seen or heard. The gamesroom, which was down a flight, was dark, and the lights I turned on disclosed no fellow beings. So I went back upstairs and reported to Wolfe.
“The joint is deserted, except for Sperling, and I think he's going over his will. You scared 'em so that they all scrammed.” “What time is it?” “Nine twenty-two.” “She said before bedtime. Call Fritz.” We had talked with Fritz only an hour ago, but what the hell, it was on the house, so I went to the instrument on the table between the beds and got him.
There was nothing new. Andy Krasicki was up on the roof with five men, still working, and had reported that enough glass and slats were in place for the morning's weather, whatever it might be. Theodore was still far from cheerful, but had had a good appetite for dinner, and so on.
I hung up and relayed the report to Wolfe, and added, “It strikes me that all that fixing up may be a waste of our client's money. If Gwenn decides we've got to prove it and we make a dive for a foxhole, what do glass and slats matter?
It'll be years before you see the place again, if you ever do. Incidentally, I noticed you gave yourself a chance to call it off, and also Sperling, but not me. You merely said that your base of operations will be known only to Mr Goodwin, taking Mr Goodwin for granted. What if he decides he's not as vain as you are?” Wolfe, who had put down a book by Laura Hobson to listen to my end of the talk with Fritz, and had picked it up again, scowled at me.
“You're twice as vain as I am,” he said gruffly.
“Yeah, but it may work different. I may be so vain I won't want me to take such a risk. I may not want to deprive others of what I've got to be vain about.” Tfui. Do I know you?” “Yes, sir. As well as I know you.” “Then don't try shaking a bogey at me. How the devil could I contemplate such a plan without you?” He returned to the book.
I knew he thought he was handing me a compliment which should make me beam with pleasure, so I went and flopped on the bed to beam. I didn't like any part of it, and I knew Wolfe didn't either. I had a silly damn feeling that my whole future depended on the verdict of a fine freckled girl, and while I had nothing against fine girls, freckled or unfreckled, that was going too far. But I wasn't blaming Wolfe, for I didn't see how he could have done any better. I had brought a couple of fresh magazines up from the living-room, but I never got to look at them, because I was still on the bed trying to decide whether I should hunt up Madeline to see if she couldn't do something that would help on the verdict, when the phone buzzed. I rolled over to reach for it.
It was one of the helps saying there was a call for Mr Goodwin. I thanked her and then heard a voice I knew.
“Hello, Archie?” “Right. Me.” “This is a friend.” “So you say. Let me guess. The phones here are complicated. I'm in a bedroom with Mr Wolfe. If I pick up the receiver I get an outside line, but on the other hand your incoming call was answered downstairs.” “I see. Well, I'm sitting here looking at an Indian holding down papers. I went out for a walk, but there was too much of a crowd, so I decided to ride and here I am. I'm sorry you can't keep the date.” “So am I. But I might be able to make it later if you'll sit tight. Okay?” “Okay.” I hung up, got to my feet, and told Wolfe, “Saul started to go somewhere, found he had a tail on him, shook it off, and went to the office to report. He's there now. Any suggestions?” Wolfe closed the book on a finger to mark the place. “Who was following him?” “I doubt if he knows, but he didn't say. You heard what I told him about the phone.” Wolfe nodded and considered a moment. “How far will you have to go?” “Oh, I guess I can stand it, even in the dark. Chappaqua is seven minutes and Mount Kisco ten. Any special instructions?” He had none, except that since Saul was in the office he might as well stick there until he heard from us again, so I shoved off.
I left the house by the west terrace because that was the shortest route to the place behind shrubbery where I had parked the car, and found a sign of life.
Paul and Connie Emerson were in the living-room looking at television, and Webster Kane was on the terrace, apparently just walking back and forth. I exchanged greetings with them on the fly and proceeded.
It was a dark night, with no stars on account of the clouds, but the wind was down. As I drove to Chappaqua I let my mind drift into a useless habit, speculating on who Saul's tail had been—state or city employees, or an A, B, C, or D. After I got to a booth in a drugstore and called Saul at the office and had a talk with him, it was still nothing but a guess. All Saul knew was that it had been a stranger and that it hadn't been too easy to shake him. Since it was Saul Panzer, I knew I didn't have to check any on the shaking part, and since he had no news to report except that he had acquired a tail, I told him to make himself comfortable in one of the spare rooms i
f he got sleepy, treated myself to a lemon coke, and went back to the car and drove back to Stony Acres.
Madeline had joined the pair in the living-room, or maybe I should just put it that she was there when I entered. When she came to intercept me the big dark eyes were wide open, but not for any effect they might have on me. Her mind was obviously too occupied with something else for dallying.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
I told her to Chappaqua to make a phone call. She took my arm and eased me along through the door into the reception hall, and there faced me to ask, “Have you seen Gwenn?” “No. Why, where is she?” “I don't know. But I think—” She stopped. I filled in, “I supposed she was off in a corner making up her mind.” “You didn't go out to meet her?” “Now I ask you,” I objected. “I'm not even a worm, I just work for one. Why would she be meeting me?” “I suppose not.” Madeline hesitated. “After dinner she told Dad she would let him know as soon as she could, and went up to her room. I went in and wanted to talk to her, but she chased me out, and I went to Mother's room. Later I went back to Gwenn's room and she let me talk some, and then she said she was going outdoors. I went downstairs with her. She went out the back way. I went back up to Mother, and when I came down again and found you had gone out I thought maybe you had me her.” “Nope.” I shrugged. “She may have had trouble finding the answer in the house and went outdoors for it. After all, she said before bedtime and it's not eleven yet. Give her time. Meanwhile you ought to relax. How about a game of pool?” She ignored the invitation. “You don't know Gwenn,” she stated.
Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe - Second Confession Page 6