by Rex Stout
Wolfe had leaned back and closed his eyes. They all looked at him. Cramer got out another cigar and bit off the end and fingered his tongue for the shreds. Hombert demanded, “Well, are you asleep?”
Wolfe didn’t move, but he spoke. “About that visit Mr. Walsh made at the Seaboard Products Corporation. Do you know who he saw there?”
“No, how could I? Stebbins didn’t go in. Even if there had been any reason—the office was closed by the time I got Stebbins’s report. What difference does it make?”
“Not much.” Wolfe’s tone was mild, but to me, who knew it so well, there was a thrill in it. “No, not much. There are cases when a conjecture is almost as good as a fact—even, sometimes, better.” Suddenly he opened his eyes, sat up, and got brisk. “That’s all, gentlemen. It is past two o’clock, and Mr. Goodwin is yawning. You will hear from me tomorrow—today, rather.”
Skinner shook his head wearily. “Oh, no no no. Honest to God, Wolfe, you’re the worst I’ve ever seen for trying to put over fast ones. There’s a lot to do yet. Could I have another highball?”
Wolfe sighed. “Must we start yapping again?” He wiggled a finger at the District Attorney. “I offered you a bargain, sir. I said if I could get replies to a few questions I would consider them and would then do what I could for you. Do you think I can consider them properly at this time of night? I assure you I cannot. I am not quibbling. I have gone much further than you gentlemen along the path to the solution of this puzzle, and I am confronted by one difficulty which must be solved before anything can be done. When it will be solved I cannot say. I may light on it ten minutes from now, while I am undressing for bed, or it may require extended investigation and labor. Confound it, do you realize it will be dawn in less than four hours? It was past three when I retired last night.” He put his hands on the edge of his desk and pushed his chair back, arose to his feet, and pulled at the corners of his vest where a wide band of canary yellow shirt puffed out. “Daylight will serve us better. No more tonight, short of the rack and the thumbscrew. You will hear from me.”
Cramer got up too, saying to Hombert, “He’s always like this. You might as well stick pins in a rhinoceros.”
When, about a quarter after nine Wednesday morning, I went up to the plant rooms with a message, I thought that Wolfe’s genius had at last bubbled over and he had gone nuts for good. He was in the potting room, standing by the bench, with a piece of board about four inches wide and ten inches long in each hand. He paid no attention to me when I entered. He held his hands two feet apart and then swiftly brought them together, flat sides of the two pieces of board meeting with a loud clap. He did that several times. He shook his head and threw one of the boards down and began hitting things with the other one, the top of the bench, one of its legs and then another one, the seat of a chair, the palm of his hand, a pile of wrapping paper. He kept shaking his head. Finally, deciding to admit I was there, he tossed the board down and turned his eyes on me with ferocious hostility.
“Well, sir?” he demanded.
I said in a resigned tone, “Cramer phoned again. That’s three times. He says that District Attorney Skinner got tight after he left here and is now at his office with a hangover, cutting off people’s heads. As far as that’s concerned, I’ve had four hours sleep two nights in a row and I’ve got a headache. He says that the publisher of the Gazette told the Secretary of State to go to hell over long distance. He wants to know if we have seen the morning papers. He says that two men from Washington are in Hombert’s office with copies of cables from London. He says that Hombert saw Clivers at his hotel half-an-hour ago and asked him about his visit to our office yesterday afternoon, and Clivers said it was a private matter and it will be a nice day if it don’t rain. He says you have got to open up or he will open you. In addition to that, Miss Fox and Miss Lindquist are having a dogfight because their nerves are going back on them. In addition to that, Fritz is on the warpath because Saul and Johnny hang out in the kitchen too much and Johnny ate up some tambo shells he was going to put mushrooms into for lunch. In addition to that, I can’t get you to tell me whether I am to go to the Hotel Portland to look at Clivers’ documents which came on the Berengaria. In addition to that …”
I stopped for breath. Wolfe said, “You badger me. Those are all trivialities. Look at me—” he picked up the board and threw it down again “—I am sacrificing my hours of pleasure in an effort to straighten out the only tangle that remains in this knot, and you harass me with these futilities. Did the Secretary of State go to hell? If so, tell the others to join him there.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m telling you, they’re all going to be around here again. I can’t hold them off.”
“Lock the door. Keep them out. I will not be hounded!”
He turned away, definitely. I threw up my hands and beat it. On my way downstairs I stopped a second at the door of the south room, and heard the voices of the two clients still at it. In the lower hall I listened at the kitchen door and perceived that Fritz was still shrill with fury. The place was a madhouse.
Wolfe had been impossible from the time I first went to his room around seven o’clock, because he hadn’t taken his phone when I buzzed him, to report the first call from Cramer. I had never seen him so actively unfriendly, but I didn’t really mind that, knowing he was only peeved at himself on account of his genius not working right. What got me on edge was first, I had a headache; second, Fritz and the clients had to unload their troubles on me; and third, I didn’t like all the cussings from outsiders on the telephone. It had been going on for over two hours and it was keeping up.
After taking another aspirin and doing a few morning chores around the office, I sat down at my desk and got out the plant records and entered some items from Horstmann’s reports of the day before, and went over some bills and so on. There were circulars and lists from both Richardt and Hoehn in the morning mail, also a couple of catalogues from England, and I glanced over them and laid them aside. There was a phone call from Harry Foster of the Gazette, who had found out somehow that we were supposed to know something, and I kidded him and backed him off. Then, a little after ten o’clock, the phone rang again, and the first thing I knew I was talking to the Marquis of Clivers himself. I had half a mind to get Wolfe on, but decided to take the message instead, and after I rang off I gathered up the catalogues and circulars and reports and slipped a rubber band around them and proceeded upstairs.
Wolfe was standing at one side of the third room, frowning at a row of seedling hybrids in their second year. He looked plenty forbidding, and Horstmann, whom I had passed in the tropical room, had had the appearance of having been crushed to earth.
I sailed into the storm. I flipped the rubber band on my little bundle and said, “Here’s those lists from Richardt and also some from Hoehn, and some catalogues from England. Do you want them or shall I leave them in the potting room? And Clivers just called on the telephone. He says those papers came, and if you want to go and look at them, or send me, okay. He didn’t say anything about his little mix-up with the police last night, and of course I was too polite—”
I stopped because Wolfe wasn’t listening. His lips had suddenly pushed out a full half-an-inch, and he had glued his eyes on the bundle in my hand. He stood that way a long while and I shut my mouth and stared at him.
Finally he murmured, “That’s it. Confound you, Archie, did you know it? Is that why you brought it here?”
I asked courteously, “Have you gone cuckoo?”
He ignored me. “But of course not. It’s your fate again.” He closed his eyes and sighed a deep sigh, and murmured, “Rubber Coleman. The Rubber Band. Of course.” He opened his eyes and flashed them at me. “Saul is downstairs? Send him up at once.”
“What about Clivers?”
He went imperious. “Wait in the office. Send Saul.”
Knowing there was no use pursuing any inquiries, I hopped back down to the kitchen door and beckoned Saul out into the hall. He s
tuck his nose up at me and I told him:
“Wolfe wants you upstairs. For God’s sake watch your step, because he has just found the buried treasure and you know what to expect when he’s like that. If he requests anything grotesque, consult me.”
I went back to my desk, but of course plant records were out. I lit a cigarette, and took my pistol out of the drawer and looked it over and put it back again, and kicked over my wastebasket and let it lay.
There were steps on the stairs, and Saul’s voice came from the door: “Let me out, Archie. I’ve got work to do.”
“Let yourself out. What are you afraid of?”
I stuck my hands in my pockets and stretched out my legs and sat on my shoulder blades and scowled. Ten minutes after Saul had left the phone rang. I uttered a couple of expletives as I reached for it, thinking it was one of the pack with another howl, but Saul Panzer’s voice was in my ear:
“Archie? Connect me with Mr. Wolfe.”
I thought, now that was quick work, and plugged and buzzed. Wolfe’s voice sounded:
“Nero Wolfe.”
“Yes, sir. This is Saul. I’m ready.”
“Good. Archie? You don’t need to take this.”
I hung up with a bang and a snort. My powers of dissimulation were being saved from strain again. But that kind of thing didn’t really get me sore, for I knew perfectly well why Wolfe didn’t always point out to me the hole he was getting ready to crawl through: he knew that half the time I’d be back at him with damn good proof that it couldn’t be done, which would only have been a nuisance, since he intended to do it anyway. No guy who knows he’s right because he’s too conceited to be wrong can be expected to go into conference about it.
Five minutes after that phone call from Saul the fun began. I got a ring from Wolfe upstairs:
“Try for Lord Clivers.”
I got the Hotel Portland and got through to him, and Wolfe spoke: “Good morning, sir. I received your message … Yes, so I understand … No, he can’t go … If you will be so good—one moment—a very important development has taken place, and I don’t like to discuss details on the telephone. You may remember that on the phone yesterday afternoon Mr. Walsh spoke to you regarding a certain person whom he had just seen … Yes, he is both dangerous and desperate; moreover, he is cornered, and there is only one person open to you that can possibly prevent the fullest and most distasteful publicity on the whole affair … I know that, that’s why I want you to come to my office at once … No, sir, take my word for it, it won’t do, I should have to expose him immediately and publicly … Yes, sir … Good. That’s a sensible man. Be sure to bring those papers along. I’ll expect you in fifteen minutes …”
Clivers rang off, but Wolfe stayed on.
“Archie. Try for Mr. Muir.”
I got the Seaboard Products Corporation, and Miss Barish, and then Muir, and buzzed Wolfe.
“Mr. Muir? Good morning, sir. This is Nero Wolfe.… One moment, sir, I beg you. I have learned, to my great discomfiture, that I did an act of injustice yesterday, and I wish to rectify it … Yes, yes, quite so, I understand … Yes, indeed. I prefer not to discuss it on the telephone, but I am sure you will find yourself as satisfied as you deserve to be if you will come to my office at half-past eleven this morning, and bring Mr. Perry with you … No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Miss Fox will be here … Yes, she is here now … No, half-past eleven, not before, and it will be necessary to have Mr. Perry present … Oh, surely not, he has shown a most active interest … Yes, it’s only a short distance …”
I heard Muir’s click off, and said into my transmitter, “That will bring that old goat trotting up here without stopping either for Perry or his hat. Why didn’t you—”
“Thanks, Archie. Try for Mr. Cramer.”
I got headquarters, and Cramer’s extension and his clerk. Then the inspector. Wolfe got on:
“Good morning, Mr. Cramer … Yes, indeed, I received your message, but I have been occupied to good purpose … So I understand, but could I help that? Can you be at my office at half-past eleven? I shall be ready for you at that time … The fact is, I do not intend merely to give you information, I hope to deliver a finished case … I can’t help that either; do you think I have the Moerae running errands for me?… Certainly, if they wish to come, bring them, though I think it would be well if Mr. Hombert went back to diapers … Yes, eleven-thirty …”
Cramer was off. I said, “Shall I try for the Cabinet?”
“No, thanks.” Wolfe was purring, “When Lord Clivers arrives, bring him up here at once.”
I let Saul Panzer in when he came. There was no longer any reason why I shouldn’t relinquish the job of answering the door, which normally belonged to Fritz, but it seemed tactful to give him time to cool off a little; and besides, if I left him to his own devices in the kitchen a while longer without interruption, there was a chance that he would bounce a stewpan on Johnny’s bean, which would have done them both good.
So I let Saul in and parked him in the front room, and also, a little later, I opened up for the Marquis of Clivers. Whereupon I experienced a delightful surprise, for he had his nephew along. Apparently there was no wedding on today; Horrocks looked sturdy and wholesome in a sack suit that hung like a dream, and I got so interested looking at it that I almost forgot it was him inside of it. I suggested him towards the office and said to Clivers:
“Mr. Wolfe would like to see you upstairs. Three flights. Climb, or elevator?”
He was looking concentrated and sour. He said climb, and I took him up to the plant rooms and showed him Wolfe and left him there.
When I got back down Horrocks was still standing in the hall.
“If you want to wait,” I said, “there’s a place in the office to hold the back of your lap. You know, chair.”
“The back of my lap?” He stared, and by gum, he worked at it till he got it. “Oh, quite. Thanks awfully. But I … I say, you know, Miss Fox got quite a wetting. Didn’t she?”
“Yeah, she was good and damp.”
“And I suppose she is still here, what?”
It was merely a question of which would be less irritating, to let him go on and circle around it for a while, or cut the knot for him and hand him the pieces. Deciding for the latter, I said, “Wait here,” and mounted the stairs again. They seemed to have quieted down in the south room. I knocked and went in and told Clara Fox:
“That young diplomat is down below and wants to see you and I’m going to send him up. Keep him in here. We’re going to be busy in the office, and it gives me the spirit of ’seventy-six to look at him.”
She made a dive for her vanity case, and I descended to the hall again and told Horrocks he knew the way.
It was ten after eleven. There was nothing for me to do but sit down and suck my finger. There was one thing I would have liked to remind Wolfe of before the party began, but I didn’t myself know how important it was, and anyway I had no idea how he intended to stage it. There was even a chance that this was to be only a dress rehearsal, a preliminary, to see what a little panic would do, but that wouldn’t be like him. The only hint he condescended to give me was to ring me on the house phone and tell me he would come down with Clivers after the others had arrived, and until then I was to say nothing of Clivers’ presence. I went in to see if Saul was talking, but he wasn’t, so I went back and sat down and felt my pulse.
The two contingents, official and Seaboard, showed up within three minutes of each other. I let them in. The official came first. I took them to the office, where I had chairs pulled up. Skinner looked bilious, Hombert harassed, and Cramer moderately grim. When they saw Wolfe wasn’t in the office they started to get exasperated, but I silenced them with a few well-chosen phrases, and then the bell rang again and I went for the second batch.
Muir and Perry were together. Perry smiled a tight smile at me and told me good morning, but Muir wasn’t having any amenities; I saw his hand tremble a little as he hung his hat up,
and he could have gone from that right on into permanent palsy without any tears wasted as far as I was concerned. I nodded them ahead.
They stopped dead inside the office door, at sight of the trio already there. Muir looked astonished and furious; Perry seemed surprised, looking from one to the other, and then turned to me:
“I thought … Wolfe said eleven-thirty, so I understood from Muir … if these gentlemen …”
“It’s all right.” I grinned at him. “Mr. Wolfe has arranged for a little conference. Have chairs. Do you know Mr. Hombert, the Police Commissioner? Inspector Cramer? Mr. Ramsey Muir. Mr. Anthony D. Perry.”
I got to the house phone on my desk and buzzed the plant rooms. Wolfe answered, and I told him, “All here.” The two bunches of eminent visitors were putting on a first-class exhibition of bad manners; neither had expected to see the other. Cramer looked around at them, slowly from one face to another, and then looked at me with a gleam in his eyes. Hombert was grumbling something to Perry. Skinner turned and croaked at me, “What kind of damn nonsense is this?” I just shook my head at him, and then I heard the creak of the elevator, and a moment later the door of the office opened and Wolfe entered with another visitor whom none of them had expected to see.
They approached. Wolfe stopped, and inclined his head. “Good morning, gentlemen. I believe some of you have met Lord Clivers. Not you, Mr. Perry? No. Mr. Muir. Mr. Skinner, our District Attorney. I want to thank all of you for being so punctual …”
I was seeing a few things. First, Clivers stood staring directly at Perry, reminding me of how Harlan Scovil had stared at him two days before, and Clivers had thrust his right hand into the side pocket of his coat and didn’t take it out. Second, Perry was staring back, and his temples were moving and his eyes were small and hard. Third, Inspector Cramer had put his weight forward in his chair and his feet back under him, but he was sitting too far away, the other side of Skinner, to get anywhere quick.