Over My Dead Body

Chapter Twelve

I descended a flight to Wolfe's room, tapped on the door, and entered. He was in bed, propped up against three pillows, just ready to attack the provender on the breakfast table which straddled his mountainous ridge under the black silk coverlet. This was orange juice, eggs au beurre noir, two slices of broiled Georgia ham, hashed brown potatoes, hot blueberry muffins, and a pot of steaming cocoa.

He snapped at me, "I haven't eaten!"

"Neither have I," I said bitterly. "I'm in no better humour than you are, so let's call it a tie. I just went up to take our guest some coffee-"

"How is she?"

"I don't know."

"Is she asleep?"

"I don't know."

"What the devil-"

"I was starting to tell you and you interrupted me. Please don't interrupt. She's gone. She didn't even lie down. She went by the window and the fire escape, and presumably found her way to 34th Street by the passage we use sometimes. Since she descended the fire escape, she went right past that window"-I pointed-"facing you, and it must have been daylight."

"I was asleep."

"So it seems. I thought maybe with a woman in the house, and possibly a murderess, you might have been on the qui vive-"

"Shut up."

He took some of the orange juice, frowned at me half a minute, and took some more.

"Phone Mr Cramer. Give him everything."

"Including my trip to the love nest?"

He grimaced. "Don't use terms like that when my stomach's empty. Including everything about Madame Zorka, Mr Barrett, and Miss Reade, except the subject of my threat to Mr Barrett."

"Bosnian forests."

"All of that to be deleted. If he wants a transcript of our talk with Madame Zorka, furnish it; he's welcome to it. He has resources for investigating those people and for finding Madame Zorka. If he wants to see me, eleven o'clock."

"Your daughter's coming at eleven."

"Then noon for Mr Cramer if he wants it." He swallowed more orange juice. "Phone Seven Seas Radio and ask if they have anything for me. If they haven't tell them to rush it to me when it comes. Make an appointment for me to talk with Mr Hitchcock in London at nine o'clock."

"Do you want a record-"

"No. Who is downstairs?"

"No one has come yet. They ought to be here any minute."

"When Saul comes, put the envelope in the safe. I'll see them as soon as I'm through talking to Mr Hitchcock. Send Saul up first, then Fred, then Orrie. Have you had your breakfast?"

"You know damn well I haven't."

"Good heavens. Get it."

I went down to the kitchen and did that, after first calling Seven Seas Radio and arranging for a wire to London at nine. With my breakfast I consumed portions of the Times, specializing on the report of the Ludlow murder. They had my name spelled wrong, and they were pretty stale for a paper that had gone to press at midnight, for they said that the police were looking for me. As Cramer had predicted, they had the low-down on Ludlow's being an agent of the British Government, but there wasn't any hint of Montenegro or Bosnian forests or Balkan princesses. On an inside page there was a spread of pictures and a two-column piece about the murder in Paris that the col de mart had figured in some years before.

When Saul and Fred and Orrie came I shooed them into the front room to wait, since I had jobs to do. After my second cup of coffee and what preceded it, I felt better and was almost cheerful by the time I got Inspector Cramer on the wire to relate the sad story. He hadn't had much more sleep than I, and was naturally disgruntled when he learned that we had had Zorka in our clutches for a couple of hours without bothering him about it, and he got rude and vulgar at the news that she had left before breakfast, but I applied the salve by reminding him how many presents he was getting absolutely gratis. He had no news to speak of himself, or if he had he wasn't handing it out, but he said he would drop in around noon if he could make it, and in the meantime he would like me to type a report, not only of our session with Zorka, but also of the one with Barrett and of my visit on Madison Avenue. That was sweet of him. I felt a lot like a hard morning at the alphabet piano, no I didn't.

As it turned out I didn't get much typing done. The talk with Hitchcock in London took place at nine o'clock as scheduled, and of course I didn't listen in, since Wolfe had said no record. Then I sent Saul up to meet Wolfe in the plant rooms, having first procured the envelope and stowed it away in the safe. The instructions for Saul must have been complicated, for fifteen minutes passed before he came back down and calmly requested fifty bucks expense money. I whistled and asked who he was going to bribe and he said the District Attorney. Wolfe rang me on the house phone and said to keep Fred in storage for the present and to send Orrie Cather up. Orrie's schedule must have been a simple one, for he returned in no time at all, marched over to me and said:

"Give me about three thousand dollars in threes."

"With pleasure. I'm busy. How much in cold cash?"

"Nothing, my dear fellow."

"Nothing?"

"Right. And please don't disturb me. I shall be spending the day on research at the public library. Hold yourself in readiness-"

He dodged the notebook I threw, and danced out.

I put a sheet in the typewriter and started, without any enthusiasm, on the report for Cramer, but had only filled a third of a page when it occurred to me that it would be fun to locate Zorka without moving from my desk. I pulled the phone over and dialled a number. The ringing signal was in my ear a long while before there was a voice. It sounded disconsolate.

"Hullohuuuuuuuuu!"

I made mine vigorous but musical. "Hello, Belinda?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Guess."

"I'm in no condition to guess."

"It's Archie. Archie the good-looking bum. I want to warn-"

"How did you get this number? It's private and it's not listed."

"I know, but I can read, can't I? I saw it on your phone when I used it. I want to say three things. First, that I think you're very beautiful and if you ever ask me to come and read aloud to you I will. Second, I forgot to thank you for the drinks. Third, I want to warn you about Zorka. About a thousand cops are looking for her, and if they come and find her there it will get you in a lot of trouble, and I'd be glad to-"

"What are you talking about? How are they going to find her here when you took her away?"

"But she went back there."

"She did not. Where is she?"

"She started for your place about five o'clock."

"Well, she didn't get here."

"That's funny. What do you suppose happened to her?"

"I have no idea."

A click in my ear ended it. So much for that. It sounded very much as if Zorka had not returned to Madison Avenue. I wrote three more lines of the report and the door bell rang and I went to the front and opened up. It was Rudolph Faber.

I admit it was Wolfe's house and I was employed there, and courtesy is courtesy, but he hung up his coat himself. That was the effect that guy had on me. I let him precede me into the office because I didn't want him behind me, and he required no invitation to take a chair. I had explained in the hall that Mr Wolfe was never available in the morning until eleven o'clock, but I seated myself at my desk and rang up the plant rooms, and in a moment Wolfe answered.

I told him, "Mr Rudolph Faber is here."

"Indeed. What does he want?"

"To see you. He says he'll wait."

"I doubt if I can see him before lunch."

"I told him so."

"Well. Let's see." A pause. "Come up here. Better still, call on Mr Green. Before leaving, give him a good book to read, and see what happens."

"A really good book?"

"The best you can find."

I hung up and swivelled to face the caller. "Mr Wolfe needs me upstairs, and he suggested that I should give you a book to amuse yourself with while I'm gone."

I went to the shelves and got down United Yugoslavia and returned and handed it to him. "I think you'll find it very interesting, especially-"

He stood up and threw the book on the floor and started for the exit.

I trotted around and got between him and the door, faced him, and said urgently, "Pick it up!" I knew at the time that it was childish, but in the first place the impulse to make some kind of alteration on the supercilious look of his face was absolutely irresistible, and in the second place I had been permanently impressed by what I had been reading in the papers about certain things being done by certain people in certain parts of the world. I did give him a second chance by telling him again to pick it up, but he kept right on coming, apparently expecting me to melt into a grease spot. I said calmly, "Look out, here it is," and put it there. I didn't aim for the chin because there wasn't any and I didn't want to pay a hospital bill. Instead, I took his left eye with a right hook and most of me behind it.

The door connecting with the front room opened a crack and Fred Durkin stuck his head in.

"Hey, need any help?"

"Come on in. What do you think?"

He walked over and stood looking down at Faber. "I'll be darned. How many times did you hit him?"

"Once."

"I'll be darned. And you with a name like Goodwin. Sometimes I'm inclined to think-was your mother ever in Ireland?"

"Go suck an orange. Stand back and give him room."

Faber got up by degrees. First on his hands, then on his hands and knees, and then slow but sure on up. He turned slowly, and looked at me, and I looked away on account of the expression in his eyes. It embarrassed me so much it damn near scared me, to see such an expression in the eyes of a man who had merely been knocked down. Naturally, it had been my intention to request him to pick the book up when he got upright again, but I didn't do it. When he got under headway towards the door I stepped aside and let him go, and asked Fred to go to the hall and let him out. I picked up the book and put it away and sat down and rubbed my knuckles and worked my Fingers open and shut a few times, and then phoned Wolfe a communiquй. All he did was grunt.

I worked my fingers limber enough so I could resume at the typewriter, but that report was hoeing a hard row. In addition to my deep-seated reluctance to spoiling white paper just to furnish a cop with reading matter, there were constant interruptions. A phone call from Miltan the йpйe champion. All he wanted was information and I had none to give him. One from a guy in town from St Louis who wanted to discuss orchids with Wolfe, and an appointment was made for the next day. One from Orrie Cather for Wolfe, and, a little later, one from Saul Panzer, both of which I was invited to keep out of.

Towards eleven o'clock there was a phone call from the Emperor of Japan. At least it might as well have been. First a woman asked for Mr Wolfe, and I asked who was it and she said Mr Barrett and I said put him on and she said hold the wire. I waited a while. Then a man said he wanted Mr Wolfe, and I said is this Mr Barrett, and he said authoritatively, no, it isn't, put Mr Wolfe on, please, and I asked who it was that wanted to talk to Mr Wolfe, and he said Mr Barrett, and I said put him on and he said hold the wire. That kind of a shenanigan. There was more to it than that, but after a terrific and exhausting struggle I finally heard something definite, in a leisurely cultivated male voice: "This is Barrett, Mr Wolfe?"

"Donald Barrett?"

"No, no, John P. Barrett."

"Oh, Donald's father. Of Barrett amp; De Russy?"

"That's right, Mr Wolfe, could you-"

"Hold it. This is Archie Goodwin, Mr Wolfe's confidential assistant."

"I thought I had Wolfe."

"Nope. I wore 'em out. Mr Wolfe will be engaged until eleven o'clock. I'll take any message."

"Well." Hesitation. "That will do, I suppose. I would like to have Mr Wolfe call at my office as soon after eleven as possible."

"No, sir. I'm sorry. He never makes calls."

"But this is important. In fact, urgent. It will be well worth his while-"

"No, sir. There's no use prolonging it. Mr Wolfe transacts business only at his office. He wouldn't go across the street to receive the keys to the Bank of England."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Yes, sir. I've always said so. But there's no use discussing it except as an interesting case of cussedness."

For ten seconds I heard nothing. Then, "Where is your office?"

"506 West 35th Street."

"Mr Wolfe is there throughout the day?"

"And night. Office and home."

"Well. I'll see. Thank you."

Wolfe came down from the plant room a few minutes later, and after he had run through the mail, tested his pen, rung for beer, and glanced at the three pages of the report I had managed to finish, I told him about it. He listened impressively and thanked me with a disinterested nod. Thinking a little prodding was in order, I observed that he was in the case anyway, on account of family obligations, spending money right and left, and that it was therefore shortsighted and unintelligent not to permit Miss Tormic to have a co-client, when the co-client was of the nature of John P. Barrett, obviously anxious to join in the fun and ready to ante. I told him about the hundred bucks of Barrett dough which had already passed through our hands and said what a pity it would be to stop there, but before I could really get worked up about it I was interrupted by the arrival of the client herself. Fritz announced Miss Neya Tormic and escorted her in.

She greeted Wolfe in a hurry and me not at all, and without taking time to sit down, demanded of him: "The paper? Have you got the paper?"

She looked drawn and she acted jerky.

Wolfe said, "Yes, it's here. Please sit down, won't you?"

"I. the paper!"

"Give it to her, Archie."

I went to the safe and got it. It was still in the envelope addressed to Saul Panzer. I removed it, tossed the envelope in the waste-basket, and handed the paper to her. She unfolded it and inspected it.

Wolfe said, extending his hand, "Let me see it, please."

That didn't appeal to her. She made no move to comply. He frowned at her and repeated his request in a crisper tone, and she handed it over but kept her eyes glued to it. He gave it a glance, folded it up, and asked her:

"Where is Miss Lovchen?"

"I suppose she's at the studio. She said she was going there."

"Surely there'll be no fencing lessons there to-day."

"I don't know. That's what she said."

"You saw her this morning?"

"Of course. We live together in a little flat on 38th Street." She put her hand out. "Give me-"

"Wait a minute. I don't know why I assumed that Miss Lovchen would accompany you here this morning-it was stupid of me to do so, but I did. Anyway, it was she who left this paper here, and I'd rather return it to her. If she-"

"I'll take it to her."

"No. I think not. Here, Archie. Go along with Miss Tormic to Miltan's and deliver this to Miss Lovchen. I like it better that way-"

"That's absurd!" the client protested. "What's the difference whether it's me or Carla?"

"None, perhaps. But this suits me better. It's neater." He handed the thing to me and then regarded her gloomily. "I hope you know what you're doing. I hope you have some idea of what's going on. I haven't. Mr Faber has come here twice for the purpose of getting hold of that paper."

"Oh." She compressed her lips. "He has?"

"Yes. The second time was only a little more than an hour ago, and Mr Goodwin lost his temper and hit him in the eye. So. I presume you girls realize that possession of that document-"

"We realize it."

"Very well. Do you still expect to complete your. errand. to-day?"

"Yes."

"When and where?"

She shook her head.

He shrugged. "Did you keep your appointment with Mr Cramer this morning?"

"Yes, but not with Mr Cramer. A man came and took me down there, and two men talked with me. That's where I came from, here."

"You told about finding those things in your pocket and so on."

"Yes."

"Did they ask about your political mission-anything of that sort?"

"Why, no, they don't know anything about that."

"Were you followed when you left there?"

"I-" She bit it off. In a moment she said, "I don't think so." Her head jerked at me and back at him. "If you're going to insist-I haven't much time. I must see Carla anyway, but if he's going-"

Wolfe nodded. "All right. Pfui. Archie, give that paper to Miss Lovchen in the presence of Miss Tormic."

I suggested, "Fred's in the front room-"

"No. You do it."

"Cramer's due in half an hour."

"I know. Hurry back."

I ushered her out. That roadster was still at the kerb in front where I had left it. We climbed in and I warmed up the engine a minute, and rolled. She was completely don't-touch-me. Whatever her mind was on, it certainly wasn't on me, and during the short ride to 48th Street I accepted that as the status quo.

Across the street from Miltan's a little group was collected on the sidewalk, and in front of the entrance a flatfoot was pacing a short beat. He gave us an eye as we went in, but made no attempt to interfere. Inside was no sign of life in the hall or reception room; but a murmur came from the rear and we went back there to the large office. Jeanne Miltan was in a chair at a desk, with two squad dicks, each with a notebook, seated facing her. Her husband, looking haggard and hopeless, was pacing the floor, shaking his head at himself. As we entered one of the dicks looked up and barked:

"What do you want?"

I waved a friendly hand. "Okay, private business."

Neya intercepted Miltan and asked, "Is Miss Lovchen upstairs?"

He groaned. "No one is upstairs. We are deserted. We are ruined. Mr Goodwin, can you tell me-"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you a darned thing. Has Miss Lovchen been here this morning?"

"She came and stayed a while, but she left."

"How long ago?"

"Oh, my God, I don't know-half an hour." He clapped a hand to his head and stared at Neya. "She said to tell you something if you came-"

Jeanne Miltan's voice sounded: "She went home, Miss Tormic."

"That's it," Miltan agreed. "She said to tell you she went home. That was all. She went home."

"What do you want with her?" a dick demanded.

"Sell her a chance on a turkey raffle. Come on, Miss Tormic."

We went back out to the sidewalk. Halting there, I asked her, "You said 38th Street? East or west?"

She smiled at me. "It's silly for you to go. It's so silly. Why don't you just give it to me?"

"I'd love to," I assured her. I didn't see any sense in antagonizing her if she was my future wife. "I really would." We were moving along to the roadster. "But here's my car and I have to go downtown anyway. Besides, if I don't follow instructions I'll get fired. What's the address?"

"404 East 38th."

"Okay, that'll only take-excuse me a minute." I had caught a glimpse of something comical. "Climb in," I told her, "I'll be right back."

I left her and went down the sidewalk to where a taxi had parked twenty feet behind the roadster. My glimpse had been of the passenger inside ducking out of our sight. As I lifted a foot to the running-board the driver said:

"Busy."

"Yeah, so I see." I stretched my neck to get a better view of Fred Durkin huddled on the seat. So Wolfe was putting a tail on his own client. "I just wanted to save you some trouble. 404 East 38th Street."

I returned to the roadster and got in and started off, telling Neya that I had merely exchanged the time of day with a Russian nobleman friend of mine who was driving a taxicab for his health. She said nothing. Apparently she was concentrating again on Balkan history, or whatever kind it was she was making. I retaliated by concentrating on my driving.

There was space for me directly in front of 404. It was an old house, one of a row, that had been done over into inexpensive flats by blocking off the stairs and sticking in some partitions. Eight steps up to the stoop, then a vestibule with mailboxes and bell buttons, then the door into the narrow hall. It wasn't even necessary for Neya to use her key on the door because it had stopped an inch short of closing and all I had to do was push it open. I let her go ahead. She led me up two flights of stairs with just enough light to keep you from groping, went to a door towards the front, and opened her bag and started fishing for a key. Then she thought better of that and pushed the button, and I could hear a bell ringing inside. But nothing else was heard, though after an interval she rang the bell again, and then again.

She muttered, "He said she was coming home."

"So he did. Got a key?"

She opened her bag again, and this time produced the key. She used it herself, pushed the door open, went in four paces with me on her heels, and stopped in her tracks, jerking her head up and freezing there. Over her shoulder I could see what she saw: the body of a man sprawled on the floor in a very unlikely attitude; and the face, which was the one I had undertaken to alter with my fist two hours previously.

Before I could stop her she jerked her head up higher and yowled in to space: "Carla!"

Chapter Thirteen I said resentfully, "Will you kindly close your trap?"

She didn't move. I got in front of her and took a look at her face. She didn't seem to be preparing for more clamour, so I went and squatted for a quick survey of the corpus. A quick one was enough. I glanced up at her again and saw that she was breathing through her nose. I rocked on my heels for half a minute, gazing at the chinless wonder and using my brain up to capacity. Then I stood up and said:

"The first and worst thing seems to be that I've got that goddam paper in my pocket."

She met my eye and said with her lips barely moving, "Give it to me."

"Sure. That'd be swell."

I walked around a table to get at one of the windows, which fronted on 38th Street, and opened it and poked my head out, and saw what I hoped to see. I pulled my head in and asked her, "How's your nerve?"

"My nerve's all right."

"Then come over here."

She came, nice and steady, and I told her to look out the window with me.

"See the grey and white taxi-cab at the kerb in the middle of the block?"

"Yes."

"Go down there and you'll find a man inside. Ask him if his name is Fred Durkin, and he'll say it is. Tell him I want him up here quick, but no more than that, because the driver will hear you. Come back up with him and use your keys. I'll be watching from the window, and if you get an impulse to scoot off-"

"I won't."

"Okay. Step on it. You're a good, brave girl."

She went. In a few seconds, from my post at the window, I saw her descend the stoop, trot to the taxi, open the door and speak to its inhabitant, and come back with Fred. Not sure of what a Montenegrin female might do under stress, I stayed at the window until they both entered the room. Fred stopped short at sight of the casualty on the floor.

"I'll be darned," he said, and looked at me.

"No," I said, "not guilty this time. Nobody will ever sock him again." I pulled the paper from my pocket. "Here's something important. I discovered this corpse and I can't leave it, and after certain events that happened yesterday they're apt to frisk me to the skin when they come. Take this-hey, you little devil!"

Neya had lunged like a champion with an йpйe, grabbed the paper from my fingers and sprung back. She stood there clutching it.

"Jesus," I said, "you're like a streak of lightning! But you're dumb. You've got to stay here too, and I'll see that you do. When the cops come they'll go through this place, including us, extra special for to-day considering yesterday. They would love to have that paper, and they'll have it. Hand it to Fred. Well?"

Her breast heaved.

"Don't be dumb, damn it! The only chance of getting out of here is for him to take it! Hand it over!"

Fred stuck out a hand. "Gimme, lady."

"What will he do with it?"

"Take care of it." She didn't move. I stepped over and yanked it out of her fingers and passed it to Fred. "Go down and dismiss your taxi," I told him, "and take the roadster and go to the office. If Wolfe's alone, give him that paper. If he isn't, go to the kitchen and have Fritz bring Wolfe to the kitchen and give him the paper there."

"Do I tell him-?"

"I'll phone him. If and when you're questioned, tell them just what happened, leaving out the paper. I'm sending you to the office because I know I'll be held up here God knows how long, and with me absent Wolfe will need you. Okay?"

"Okay." He turned to go.

"Hold it. Stay there by the door a minute." I began darting around. I took a look behind a sofa and even under it, and opened a closet door for a glance inside, and had my hand on the knob of another door leading to the rear of the flat when Fred growled:

"Hey, what about prints?"

"To hell with prints. I've got a right to look for a murderer, haven't I?" I went on through, and kept moving, bothering only with places big enough to hide a man or woman. It didn't take long, since there was only a bath, a kitchenette, and two small bedrooms. I trotted back to the front and told Fred, "All right, one, two, three, go," and he beat it.

I looked at Neya. "You're starting to tremble. You'd better sit down."

She shook her head. "I'm all right. But I. I. Carla. Where is she?"

"Search me." I had gone around the table to where the phone was and lifted it from its cradle.

"But wait-please! Why can't we. just leave? Just go and find her?"

"Sure. Splendid." I started dialling. "You certainly get charming ideas. Like the one yesterday, stuffing that junk in my pocket. Just lock up and go, huh? With those babies at Miltan's knowing we started for here and Fred's taxi-driver-"

The phone told me: "This is Nero Wolfe."

I kept my voice down. "Hallo, boss. Let's be discreet."

"Oh, yes."

"Cramer there?"

"Yes."

"Well, leave it open so that if you want to you can say it was the Salvation Army. We went to Miltan's and Carla had been there, but left for home. We came on here, 404 East 38th. Got the address?"

"Yes."

"Old house, walk-up, two flights. Neya let us in with her key. Rudolph Faber was lying on the floor dead. Hole through his coat, left breast. Shirt soaked with blood inside. No weapon. Carla not around on quick inspection I'm phoning from right here, this room, and Neya is standing here-"

"One moment. I was empowered without reservation-"

"That's all right. Fred was tailing us and Neya went down for him and I gave it to him and he's on his way with it now. He can be traced here easy, and so can we. The place has been frisked by someone in a hurry-drawers standing open, things scattered on the floor, and so on. The number of this phone is Hammond 3-4505. Do you want me to keep on talking?"

"No."

"Do you want to ring off and let your genius work and I'll call again in three minutes?"

"No. You had better stay there, both of you. Mr Cramer is here, and I'll tell him about it. Hold the wire."

I heard him telling Cramer, and I heard noises which were presumably the inspector turning somersaults. Then a voice in my ear not Wolfe's.

"Goodwin!" Cramer yapped.

"Yes, sir, speaking."

"You stay there, hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

That was all, except the click I hung up and walked to Neya, took her elbow and steered her to a chair, and put her in it.

"They'll be here in five minutes. Or less. This time Inspector Cramer will get here first. And this time you're connected up. Here in your own front room. What are you going to tell him?"

Her eyes met mine. They didn't waver, but she was having trouble with her chin. She shook her head. "What can I tell him?"

"I don't know. What can you?"

"Nothing."

"Not enough. Under the circumstances. Did your friend Carla do it?"

"I don't know."

"Did you?"

"You know I didn't!"

"I do not Is there a lot of stuff around here about Bosnian forests and Barrett amp; De Russy and secret codes-"

"No, nothing. I am very careful."

"Yeah, this looks like it. All I'm saying, if you try telling Cramer that you know nothing about Faber and you can't imagine why in the world he came here to get killed, you'll find yourself out on a limb If you tell the truth, that won't be it, and if you decide on lies, you'll have to do a lot better than that. One little fact is that whoever killed Faber deprived you of your alibi for the murder of Ludlow. I'm not trying to scare you, I'm only trying to make you grab hold-"

The phone rang and I went and got it.

"This is Hammond 3-45-"

"Archie. Mr Cramer will be there shortly."

"Goody!"

"How is Miss Tormic?"

"She's all right. She says her mind's a blank."

"Shock?"

"No, just ignorance."

"When she is questioned about anything except her movements since ten o'clock this morning-which is the time Mr Faber left this house alive-she will decline to reply except in the presence of her attorney. That is amply justified in the circumstances."

"I'll tell her that."

"Do so. I'll arrange for Mr Parker to represent her. What does she say about Miss Lovchen?"

"More ignorance. The first thing she did when she entered the room and looked at the floor was let out a yell for Carla."

"I see. That's too bad. By the way, where did you put those germination records on the oncidium hybrids? I want to check them over."

"Christalmighty," I said bitterly. "Here's your daughter sizzling on a spot, and here am I with blood on my fingers off of Faber's shirt, and you prate-why don't you try doing a little work for a change-?"

"I can't work with nothing to work on. Get away as soon as you can. Where did you put those records?"

I told him. He thanked me and rang off. I looked at Neya, sitting there with her jaw clamped and her fingers twisted, and observed grimly, "You certainly picked a lulu for an adopted daddy. Do you know what he's doing? Checking up on orchid seeds he planted a year ago! Incidentally, he says you are to answer any questions the cops ask about your movements since ten o'clock this morning. All other questions, refuse to answer until you see a lawyer. He's getting one."

"A lawyer for me?"

"Yes."

A police siren sounded through the window I had left open.

Chapter Fourteen At five minutes past two Wolfe sipped the last drop of his luncheon coffee, put down his cup, and made two distinct and separate oral noises. The first was meant to express his pleasure and satisfaction in the immediate past, the hour spent at the table; the second was a grunt of resigned dismay at the prospect of the immediate future, which was embodied in the bulky figure of Inspector Cramer, planted in a chair in the office. He had arrived on the stroke of two and was waiting.

Wolfe and I went in and sat down. The end of the unlighted cigar in Cramer's mouth described a figure-eight.

"I hate to hurry your meal," he said sarcastically.

Wolfe eructed.

The inspector turned the sarcasm on me. "Have you had any new ideas about the purpose of your going there with Miss Tormic?"

I shook my head. "No, sir. As I told you, we merely went there to get Miss Lovchen."

"And what were you going to do with her?"

"We were going to bring her to see Mr Wolfe. To go over things."

"Had she suddenly developed paralysis of the legs?"

"Please, Mr Cramer," Wolfe murmured. "That's childish, and you know it is. Flopping your arms around is no way to discuss anything. If Archie and Miss Tormic were engaged on a mysterious errand, you don't suppose you're going to squeeze it out of him, do you?"

With his fingers entwined, Cramer rubbed his thumb-tips together, back and forth, with the cigar in his mouth aimed at the ceiling.

Finally he said, "I've been sitting here thinking."

Wolfe nodded sympathetically. "It's a good room to think in. The faint sounds from the street are just right."

Silence.

Cramer said, "I'm not a fool."

Wolfe nodded again. "We all feel like that occasionally. The poison of conceit. It's all right if you keep an antidote handy."

"Hell, I'm not conceited." The inspector removed the cigar. "What I chiefly meant about not being a fool, I meant that I'm sitting here because I doubt very much if I'll get a start on this case anywhere except right here in this room."

"Well, as I say, it's a good room to think in."

"Yeah. I'm not talking about thinking. I'm talking about you. This case is a hush-hush and I don't know why, and as sure as God made little apples you do know why. I don't expect you to blurt it out, but you've given me a hint before and you might do it again. I wouldn't be surprised if you know right now who killed Ludlow and who killed Faber."

"You're wrong. I don't."

"Well, you know something about it that I don't know. Take your client, for instance. Why is that girl your client? Can she pay the kind of fee you charge? She cannot. Then who's going to pay you? You know that, don't you? You're damn right you do. You go in for fancy tricks only when someone makes it well worth your while. For example, that Durkin that works for you that was there in the taxi. And Goodwin admits he called him up to that room and then sent him away in his car. Your car. I'm betting the Lovchen girl went with him."

"Nonsense. Fred came directly here alone."

"You say."

"Well, ask Fritz who opened the door-"

"Nuts. What good does it do to ask questions of anybody who works for you? But we'll find Lovchen, and we'll find Zorka too, don't think we won't."

"You've found no trace of them?"

"Not yet. We will. We had a tail on Lovchen, but he hasn't reported and we don't know where he is. Another thing, you had Zorka right here in this house, on the grill-"

"She was drunk."

"She wasn't too drunk to climb down a fire escape. According to you." Cramer brandished the cigar at him. "Do you realize that this time I could actually slap a charge of obstructing justice on you?"

"I doubt it. Why don't you try?"

"For a damn good reason. Because the commissioner and the district attorney are both on the soft pedal."

Wolfe's brows went up. "They are?"

"Yes. Didn't I say it's a hush-hush? It's exactly the kind of thing that makes my guts turn over. I'm a cop. I am paid a salary to go and look at dead people and decide if they died as the result of a crime and, if they did, find the criminal and fasten it on him so it will stick. That's the job I'm paid to do. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred I get official co-operation as required, but once in a while a bunch of politicians or influential citizens will try to rope me off. I don't like being roped off by anyone whatever." He stuck the cigar in his mouth and laid his heavy fists on the chair arms. "I do not like it."

"And you are being roped off from this case?"

"I am. The British Consul phoned the commissioner to express his deep concern at the violent death of a British subject, and his earnest hope and so forth. The commissioner saw him at eleven o'clock last night, and the consul was communicating with London as soon as possible. This morning I ask the commissioner for the dope, and he says the consul can furnish no information regarding Ludlow's activities, but of course it is to be hoped that justice will be done. Like it is to be hoped we'll have a mild winter. Then, a little later, talking with the district attorney, I suggested that he might phone the British embassy in Washington, and he vetoes it and says he doubts if it would be fruitful to pursue an investigation along that line. I damn near went ahead and phoned Washington myself!"

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I'm too old to look for another job. Besides, it wouldn't have been fruitful. But what I did this morning, within five minutes after I got there on 38th Street, I phoned right from that room to the German Consul-General and asked him about Faber, and he had the brass to tell me that he hadn't the faintest notion what Faber was doing in New York! After telling me last evening, in connexion with Ludlow, that he could vouch for Faber absolutely! I phoned-the German embassy in Washington then and there, and got the same run-around. What the hell right have countries got to send guys to other countries to do things they're ashamed to talk about? Even when the guys get murdered?"

Wolfe shook his head.

Cramer glared at him a while in silence and then announced abruptly, "I sent a cable to a place in Yugoslavia called Zagreb."

Wolfe murmured, "Indeed."

"Yes, indeed. That's the town those two girls came from. It's the address on their passports. They say they came over here because America is a land of opportunity. They were asked, in that case, why didn't they enter on the quota instead of visitors' visas? They said they wanted to see what it was like first."

"Cautious." Wolfe grunted. "You cabled, of course, to learn if they might be suspected of a grudge against the British Empire. I doubt if you'll get much. If they're working for the Yugoslav government, of course you won't. If for someone else-Zagreb is the Croatian capital, and the authorities there certainly wouldn't help you any. May I ask why you picked on those two girls especially?"

"I didn't. I picked on everybody. But it isn't surprising if I pick on 'em now, is it? With one of 'em evaporated? And Faber stabbed to death right in their flat? Is Tormic still your client?"

"She is."

"If she's innocent it's a mistake not to let her talk."

"I don't think so."

"I do." Cramer discarded his cigar and leaned back. "I'll tell you frankly, I don't think she did it. Chiefly for two reasons, and one is that she's your client. I admit that's a reason. The other is that Faber's death takes away her alibi for Ludlow. She wouldn't be that dumb. She left headquarters at a quarter past ten this morning and she was tailed. She took a taxi. At Canal Street she suddenly hopped out of the taxi and into the subway. It was so unexpected that the tail lost her in the shuffle because a train was just pulling in and she made it and he didn't. So what did she do between then and the time she got to your office, ten after eleven?"

"What does she say?"

"She says she told the taxi driver to take her to your place, but she suddenly decided that she would have time to go to Miltan's and see Miss Lovchen about something if she took the subway, so she did. Then she decided she wouldn't have time after all, so she got out at Grand Central and phoned Miss Lovchen instead, and then took a taxi here."

"She phoned Miss Lovchen where? Miltan's?"

"Yes. And she did. Miltan answered the phone himself and recognized her voice and called Miss Lovchen. About a quarter to eleven."

"What does she say she phoned Miss Lovchen about?"

"She says it's none of my business."

Wolfe sighed. "Well, disprove it."

"Sure. I know. I said frankly, I don't think she did it."

"Who do you think did? Miss Lovchen?"

"How the hell do I know?" Cramer sat up and made fists again. "Haven't I made it plain that I don't know a damn thing? I can't even put anyone in that room between ten o'clock, the time that Faber left here on his feet, and the time that Goodwin and Miss Tormic were there and found him. We can't find anyone that saw anybody go in or out of the building. We're still trying it, but you know that game."

He banged a fist and demanded, "And what if we do? What if I had stood there on the sidewalk myself and saw her go in with Faber and come out again without him? What good would that do me? When the question comes up, what did she kill him for, or Ludlow either, what do I say then? Huh? Or anybody else! It is customary, before you turn a murder case over to a jury and ask them for a conviction, to give them some slight hint of what the motivation was. They like it better that way. And where it stands now, I could give just as good a motive for Goodwin here, and say he did it with his jackknife when he went there with Miss Tormic, as I could for anybody else."

I protested, "I don't carry a jackknife. A penknife."

"Maybe your field's too narrow," Wolfe suggested. "Have you considered-"

"I haven't got any field. As far as I'm concerned, it's wide-open. Naturally, we're checking up on everyone that was at Miltan's last evening. Young Gill was at his office. One out. Miltan and his wife were at their place. Three out. That leaves six in, of that bunch. Driscoll went for a walk at half past ten and got to his office at eleven-thirty. Donald Barrett says he was at his office, Barrett amp; De Russy, but it hasn't been confirmed yet to make it tight. Lovchen and Tormic and Zorka. Two of those disappeared. Belinda Reade left her apartment shortly after ten o'clock to go shopping and has been located."

"The weapon?"

"Hasn't been found. He was stabbed in the left breast with a blade long enough to reach the heart, and it was withdrawn in a few minutes, but not immediately, judging from the amount of bleeding. He was also struck a severe blow, before he was stabbed, on the left eye. A very hard blow with something blunt and hard, and heavy. Very unlikely that he could have got it falling, and anyway, if it had happened at the moment he was stabbed to death it wouldn't look the way it does. It indicates that there was a struggle-what's the idea?"

I had doubled up my right fist and displayed it in front of his nose.

"Blunt and hard, and heavy," I declared.

"Huh? What-"

"Yes, sir. It was me. He got obnoxious here in this office and I plugged him. I tell it because you may dig up someone who saw him soon after, and I don't want to be accused of withholding evidence."

Cramer's chin slowly sunk to his breastbone. It looked like a slow-motion of Jack Dempsey preparing to wade in. Then, also slowly, he put the tip of a forefinger to his nose and rubbed up and down, gently and rhythmically, meanwhile surveying me through narrowed lids. It was quite a while before he said thoughtfully:

"You wouldn't stab a guy."

"No, sir," I agreed brightly, "it wouldn't be in character-"

"Shut up. But what if you and Tormic went there and found him there going through things. You got mad and socked him. Tormic got mad and stuck a knife in him. You sent for Durkin and made him a gift of the knife and he left with it. You phoned here and I was here."

"It sounds pretty plausible," I conceded, "but you're confronted with the question of motive again. What was it that infuriated Tormic to the point of croaking him? Another trouble is that Fred Durkin was here in the office when I plugged him." I shook my head. "That theory is full of holes. I'm in favour of crossing it off-"

The phone interrupted me. It was a call for Cramer. I gave him room to take it at my desk. He talked for a full ten minutes, everything from non-committal grunts to elaborate detailed instructions, and when it was finished returned to his chair.

He regarded me with a cold eye. "You know, son," he said finally, "you have one or two good qualities. In a way I even like you. In another way I could stand and watch your hide peeling off and not shed any tears. You have undoubtedly got the goddamdest nerve of anybody I know except maybe Nero Wolfe. Tormic is down at headquarters, with that lawyer you got for her, refusing to answer questions. I've got half a notion to try that old gag on her. I think I'll phone Rowcliff to tell her that you have admitted that Faber was on his feet when you and she got there, and you knocked him down."

"Go ahead," I urged him. "It will be interesting to see how it works out. But as far as my nerve is concerned, I never have had, do not now have, and never will have, enough nerve to risk one teeny-weeny chance of sitting in the frying-chair."

"Yesterday afternoon you fled the scene of a murder with the weapon used for the crime."

"Not knowingly. To begin with, I didn't fled, I merely went. And I did not know that culdymore was in my pocket."

Cramer leaned back, sighed, and began rubbing his nose again.

The door opened. Fritz entered, approached, and said:

"Mr Cather, sir."

Wolfe's chin went up. "Show him in."

I could tell from the tone of Wolfe's voice that there was a possibility that Orrie was bringing home a chunk of important bacon, but a glance at Orrie's face told me that he didn't have it. Wolfe obviously reached the same conclusion, for he said, more a statement than a question:

"No result."

Orrie stood with his overcoat on and his hat in his hand. "No, sir."

Wolfe grimaced. "Did you find the-things I suggested?"

"Yes, sir. More too. There were mentions-I saw the name-in a lot of articles and sometimes in headlines, but that was all. Of course I couldn't read-"

"That wouldn't help any. No pictures."

"No, sir. I went through every possible thing at the library, and I tried other places. The Times thought they would have one, but they didn't. I'm on my way to the consulate and I just stopped by here instead of phoning-"

"Don't go to the consulate. I phoned there and it's hopeless. Mr Cramer and I are both out of humour with consulates. Have you been to Second Avenue?"

"No, I was going there last."

"Try it. You might find it there. It is possible that Mr Cramer has arranged that anyone leaving this house shall be followed. If so, shake him. I don't want the police in on this. Not yet."

Orrie grinned. "That will be a pleasure." He tramped out.

Cramer said in a tone of disgust, "Horse feathers."

"It wouldn't be the first time you've tried that stratagem," Wolfe observed mildly. "Anyway, it's not as annoying as your former attempts at bulldozing. Thank heaven, you seem to have given that up. Are you through amusing yourself with Archie?"

"Amusing myself? Good God!"

"You must have been. You couldn't very well have been serious. Will you have some beer?"

"No, thanks-yes, I will too. I'm thirsty."

"Good." Wolfe pushed the button. "Did I understand you to say that you were having Miss Lovchen followed?"

"Yes. A double tail. One of them phoned in at ten-forty that she had left the house at 38th Street and gone to Miltan's, and was in there then, and we haven't heard from them since. Their instructions are to report in every two hours if they can do so without danger of losing contact."

"I see. It's very handy to have so many men."

"Yeah. It would be if more of them were worth a damn. There are over a hundred of them on this case right now. Sitting out up at 38th Street. Looking for the thing he was stabbed with. Getting backgrounds. Tailing. Looking for Lovchen and Zorka. Checking alibis. I'm expecting any minute to be told to pull a bunch of them off. Hush-hush." The inspector set his jaw. "But until I get direct orders to the contrary, I'm going to proceed on the theory that the people who pay my salary don't want any kind of a murderer to get any kind of a break. That's why I'm sitting here chinning with you. This is the one place where I might get a line on whatever it is that the goddam consuls and ambassadors are so bashful about. much obliged."

He took the beer Wolfe had poured for him, gulped, licked the foam from his lips, and gulped again.

He sat back holding the half-filled glass. "Let me ask you something. If you had your pick of everybody, everybody in or near New York, to be brought in here right now, for you to ask questions of about this case, who would it be?"

"Thank heaven," Wolfe declared, "I can answer that unequivocally. Madame Zorka."

The phone rang. It was for Cramer again and he took it at my desk. It was a short conversation this time, and when he disconnected and went back to his chair he had a satisfied grin on his mug.

"Well, well," he said, "I call that pretty good. No sooner asked for. They've got Zorka and I told them to bring her here."

"Indeed." Wolfe was filling his glass again. "Where did they find her?"

"In a room at the Brissenden. Registered phoney. Arrived at ten minutes past five this morning."

"I hope," Wolfe muttered, "that she has something to wear besides that red thing she had on last night."

"Huh? I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. Soliloquy- Yes, Fritz?"

Fritz was in again. He had the salver this time, and crossed to Wolfe. Wolfe took the card, read it and frowned.

"The devil," he said. "Where is he?"

"In the hall, sir."

"Please put him in the front room, close the door, and come back."

As Fritz went Wolfe addressed the inspector:

"I don't suppose you have an errand somewhere else." "Neither do I," Cramer said emphatically. "I've told you ten times I like it here. If I once got out you might not let me in again unless I brought a warrant."

"Very well. Then I'm afraid- Oh, Fritz. Will you please take Mr Cramer up in the elevator and ask Theodore to show him the orchids?" He smiled at the inspector. "You haven't been up there for a long while. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"I'll love it," Cramer declared, and got up and followed Fritz out.

Wolfe handed me the card and I read, "John P. Barrett." The sound came of the elevator door clanging, and Wolfe said, "Bring him in."

Chapter Fifteen The appearance of Donnybonny's father in the flesh fitted the sound of his voice on the telephone. He was the kind many people call distinguished-looking and I call Headwaiter's Dream. He was around fifty, smooth-shaven, with grey eyes that needed to look only once at something, and was wearing $485 worth of quiet clothes. He shook hands with Wolfe in a pleasant manner, as if there could never be any hurry or urgency about anything in the world.

"You're over here by the river in a corner of your own," he observed genially as he sat down.

Wolfe nodded. "Yes, I bought this place a long time ago and I'm hard to move. You must excuse me, Mr Barrett, if I say that I haven't much time to spare. I'm wedging you in. Another caller kindly went up to my plant rooms for an interlude. Mr Cramer of the police."

"Cramer?"

"Inspector Cramer of the Homicide Bureau."

"Oh." Barrett's tone was nonchalant, but his eyes, for an instant, were not. "I came to see you on account of some remarks you made last night to my son. Regarding Bosnian forests, credits held by my firm, and the Donevitch gang. That was your word, I believe-gang."

"I believe it was," Wolfe admitted. "Was there something wrong with my remarks?"

"Oh, no. Nothing wrong. May I smoke?"

Permission received, he got a cigarette from a case which boosted his freight loading from $485 up to around eight hundred berries, lit, and thanked me for the ash tray I provided.

"My son," he said in a tone of civilized exasperation, "is a little bit green. It's unavoidable that youth should arrange people in categories, it's the only way of handling the mass of material at first to avoid hopeless confusion, but the sorting out should not be too long delayed. My son seems to be pretty slow at it. He overrates some people and underrates others. Perhaps I've tried to rush it by opening too many doors for him. A father's conceit can be a very disastrous thing."

He tapped ashes from his cigarette. He asked abruptly but not at all pugnaciously, "What is it you want, Mr Wolfe?"

Wolfe shook his head. "Nothing right now. I wanted to see Madame Zorka and your son kindly made that possible."

"Yes, he told me about that. But what else?"

"Nothing at present. Really."

"Well." Barrett smiled. "I understand that as a private investigator you undertake almost any sort of job that promises a fee proportionate to your abilities."

"Yes, sir, I do. Within certain boundaries I have set. I try to keep my prejudices intact."

"Naturally." Barrett laughed sympathetically. "We can't leave it to anyone else to defend our prejudices for us." He tapped off ashes again. "My son also tells me that you are engaged in the interests of a young woman named Tormic who is a friend of his. At least-hum-an acquaintance. In connexion with the murder of that man Ludlow."

"That's right," Wolfe agreed. "I was originally engaged to clear her of a charge of stealing diamonds from a man named Driscoll. Then Mr Ludlow got killed, and Miss Tormic needed a little help on that too because she was implicated by circumstances."

"And was it from this Miss Tormic that you received information which enabled you to put pressure on my son? You did put pressure on him, didn't you?"

"Certainly. I blackmailed him."

"Yes. With a threat to disclose certain facts. Did you get those facts from Miss Tormic?"

"My dear sir." Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "You can't possibly be fatuous enough to expect me to tell you that."

Barrett smiled at him. "There's always a chance that you might. Especially since there's no good reason why you shouldn't. Are you under obligation to defend the interests of anyone except Miss Tormic?"

"Yes. My own. Always my own."

"That, of course. But anyone else? I should think there would be no impropriety in your telling me if you represent any interest except that of Miss Tormic. For instance, Madame Zorka?"

Wolfe frowned. "I am always reluctant to make a present of information. Just as you are reluctant to make a present of money. You're a banker and your business is selling money; I'm a detective and mine is selling information. But I don't want to be churlish. In connexion with the activities we are speaking of, I represent no interest whatever except that of Miss Tormic."

"And, always, your own."

"Always my own."

"Good." Barrett crushed his cigarette in the tray. "That clears the way for us, I should think. Please don't think I'm fatuous. I've made some inquiries and I find you have an enviable reputation for good faith. I have a proposal to make regarding this little project my firm is interested in. This-um-business you mentioned to my son. We need your services. Nothing onerous, and certainly nothing to offend your prejudices." He pulled a little leather fold from his pocket. "I'll give you a cheque now as a retainer. Say ten thousand dollars?"

I thought to myself, what do you know about that; Donnydarling got his briber's itch honestly, by direct inheritance. Then I grinned, looking at Wolfe. One corner of his mouth was twisted a little out of line, which meant that he was suffering acute pain. It was a situation he had to face fairly often during the years I had known him, and the torture involved was in direct proportion to the number of cyphers. Ten thousand bucks would have kept a good man, even Ray Borchers, in Central America for a full year, hunting rare orchids, always with the possibility of finding one absolutely new. Or 5,000 cases of beer or 600 pounds of caviare.

He said bravely, but with somewhat more breath than the word should require, "No."

"No?"

"No."

"If I assure you that you will be expected to do nothing that will interfere with the interest you already represent? And in case my assurance doesn't satisfy you, if at any time you find your engagements in conflict you may merely return the ten thousand dollars-"

Wolfe's lip twitched. I turned my head away. But his voice showed that he had it licked: "No, sir. To return that amount of money would ruin my digestion for a week. If I could bring myself to do it, which is doubtful. No, sir. Abandon the idea. I shall accept no commission or retainer from you."

"Is that-um-definite?"

"Irrevocable."

One little vertical crease showed in the middle of Barrett's forehead. With no other sign of fits, he returned the leather fold to his breast pocket, and then regarded Wolfe with what was probably as close to an open stare as he ever got "The only recourse that leaves me," he said, with no affability left in his tone at all, "is to draw my own conclusions."

"If you find you must have a conclusion, yes, sir."

"But I confess I'm puzzled. I'm not often puzzled, but I am now. I'm not gullible enough to believe that your interest is only what you profess it to be. I have very good reasons for not believing it besides the fact that in that case there would be no explanation for your refusing my proposal. My son thinks that you are representing either London or Rome, but there are two objections to that: first, no contacts have been reported to us, and second, if that were true why would you have exposed yourself as you did last night? Is it any wonder that we regarded that as an invitation to deal?"

"I'm sorry I misled you," Wolfe murmured.

"But you're not going to tell me whom you're tied up with."

"I have no client but Miss Tormic."

"And you're not prepared to deal with us."

Wolfe shook his head, if not with enthusiasm, with finality John P. Barrett stood up. There was a vague sort of vexation on his face, like a man with a feeling that he has gone off and left something somewhere but unable to say either what it was or where he left it "I hope," he said, with an edge to his tone, "for your own sake, that you don't happen to get in our way unwittingly. We know who our opponents are, and we know how to handle them. If you're in this on your own and you're trying to play for a haul-"

"Nonsense." Wolfe cut him off. "I'm a detective working on a job. I am not apt to get in anyone's way, or perform any other manoeuvre, unwittingly I will say this. There is a possibility that in finishing up my own business I'll be compelled to interfere with yours. If that seems likely to occur, I'll let you know in advance."

Bang went another illusion I wouldn't have supposed that a man of Barrett's appearance and breeding, and especially with the clothes he was wearing, could do or say anything mean But the look in his eyes at that moment, and the tone of his voice, were plain mean and you could even say nasty All he said was, "Don't try it, Mr Wolfe. Don't try interfering with my business."

He turned to go.

Fortunately I had noticed the sound of Fritz in the hall and, passing Wolfe a signal to hold Barrett a moment, I bounced up and out, shutting the office door behind me, not in Barrett's face, for he had turned at a remark from Wolfe. As I trotted down the hall Fritz was holding the street door open and three people were entering in the shape of a sandwich: a dick, Zorka, and another dick. Without ceremony or apology I hustled them into the front room and shut them in, then trotted back to the office and nearly knocked Barrett off his pins swinging the door against him.

"Sorry, sir, I did it unwittingly."

He gave me a frosty eye and departed. I stayed there on the threshold until I saw Fritz had got him accoutred and dispatched on his way, and then told Wolfe who had come and asked him if he thought Cramer would prefer to go on looking at orchids. He told me to phone up and tell Horstmann to bring the inspector down, and I did so, and then returned to the front room for Zorka. The two dicks started to come along, and I waved them back and said I would take her to Inspector Cramer.

"We'll help you, buddy," they said, as if they were twins, and stayed as close to her as they could without being vulgar. Wolfe frowned as the four of us cluttered into the office. In a minute we were a neat half-dozen when Cramer joined us, five full-grown men against one dressmaker. One of the dicks got out a notebook and I arranged myself at my desk with mine. Wolfe leaned back with his clasped hands resting on his meal container, looking at Zorka with his eyes half shut. Cramer was scowling at her.

I had remembered the name of a girl in the Bible she resembled-Delilah. But right then she looked crumby, with puffs under her eyes, scared and nervous, and altogether anything but carefree. I was glad to notice, for Wolfe's sake, that she had snared a dark red woollen suit somewhere, and some shoes and stockings, but it was just like Wolfe to pick on that as the first means of harassing her. Naturally he was sore at her for using his fire escape.

He growled at her, "Where did you get those clothes?"

She looked at the skirt as if she hadn't realized she had it on. "Zeeze-" She stopped, frowning at him.

"I mean the clothes you're wearing. When you left here last night-this morning-all you had on was a red thing. Under your coat. Those things you're wearing now were in the bag and suitcase you took to Miss Reade's apartment. Is that right?"

"You say zey waire."

"Weren't they? Who took them to you at the Hotel Brissenden? Mr Barrett?"

She shrugged.

Cramer barked, "We can prove that; and that's not all we can prove! After those clothes were delivered to you this morning, you put them on and left the hotel, and you were followed."

"Zat ees not true." She set her teeth on her lower lip for a moment, and then went on: "For one sing, if you had me followed, you would know where I was and you would not wait so late to get me and bring me here. For anozzer sing, I did not leave zee hotel, not once until zee men came-"

"That won't get you anywhere! Now, look here-"

"Please, Mr Cramer?" Wolfe opened his eyes. "If you don't mind? Remember what you said, that you'd be no better off if you had stood across the street yourself and seen her go in with him and emerge without him. There's no point in running her up a tree if you have no ammunition to bring her down again."

"Have you?" the inspector demanded.

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out."

Cramer pulled out a cigar and stuck it between his teeth. "Go ahead."

Wolfe cleared his throat and focused on her. "Madame Zorka-is that your name?"

"Of course eet ees."

"I know it's the name on your letterheads and in the telephone book. But were you christened Zorka?"

"Eet ees my name."

"What's the rest of it?"

She fluttered a nervous hand. "Zorka."

"Now, my dear young lady. Last night, inferentially at least, you were drunk. But you're not drunk now, you're merely bedraggled. Do you intend to tell us the rest of your name or not?"

"I. " She hesitated, and then said with sudden determination, "No. I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"Because I-it would be dangerous."

"Dangerous to whom? To you?"

"No, not to me-as much as uzzer people." She took a deep breath. "I am a refugee. I escaped."

"Where from?"

She shook her head.

"Come, come," Wolfe said brusquely. "Not the place, the city, the village, if you think you can't. What country? Germany? Russia? Italy? Yugoslavia?"

"All right. Zat much. Yugoslavia."

"I see. Croatia? Serbia? Montenegro?"

"I said Yugoslavia."

"Yes, but. Very well." Wolfe shrugged. "How long ago did you escape?"

"About one year ago."

"And came to America? To New York?"

"First Paris. Paris some time, then America."

"Did you bring a lot of money with you?"

"Oh, no." She spread out her hands to reject an absurdity. "No money. No refugee could have money."

"But I understand you have a business here in New York which must have cost a good deal to set up."

She almost smiled at him. "I knew you would ask zat. A friend was very kind to me."

"Is the friend's name Donald Barrett?"

She sat silent a moment, just looking at him, and then said, "But I am foolish. Zaire is no disgrace. Anyway, eet ees known to a few people, and you would ask and find out. Zee kind friend who lent me money ees Mr Barrett. He ees, what you call eet, silent partner."

"You're in debt to Mr Barrett, then?"

"Debt?" She frowned. "Oh, debt. Yes, very much."

Wolfe nodded. "I sympathize with you, madame. I hate being in debt. Some people don't seem to mind it. By the way, those people in Yugoslavia-those who might be in danger if you told us the rest of your name-are they relatives of yours?"

"Yes, some. Some relatives."

"Are you Jewish?"

"Oh, no. I am very old Yugoslavian family."

"Indeed. Nobility?"

"Well. " She pulled her shoulders up and together, and released them again.

"I see. I won't press that. The danger to your relatives-would that be on account of your activities in New York?"

"But I have no activities in New York, except my business."

"Then I don't understand how revealing your name would place your relatives in peril."

"Zat ees. eet would be suspect."

"What would be suspect?"

She shook her head.

Cramer growled, "We know damn well she's not normal. I could have told you that much. When we went through her apartment this morning-"

Zorka's head jerked around at him and she squeaked in indignation, "You went through my apartment!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said calmly. "And your place of business. Anybody that stages the kind of performance you did last night can expect some unwelcome attention. You're lucky you're not down at headquarters right now phoning for your kind friend to furnish bail for you, and that's exactly where you'll be when we're through here, maybe." He resumed to Wolfe, "There's not a thing, not a scratch of anything, at her home or office either, that takes you back further than a year ago, the time she came to New York. That's why I say we already knew she wasn't normal."

"Did you find a passport?"

"No. That's another thing-"

"Where is your passport, madame?"

She looked at him. She wet her lips twice. "I am in zees country legally," she declared.

"Then you must have a passport. Where is it?"

For the first time her eyes had a cornered look. "I weel explain. to zee propaire officaire. "

"There's nothing improper about me," Cramer said grimly.

Zorka spread out her hands. "I lost eet."

"I'm afraid the water's getting hot," said Wolfe. "Now about last night. Why did you phone here and say that you saw Miss Tormic putting something in Mr Goodwin's pocket?"

"Because I did see eet."

"Then why hadn't you told the police about it?"

"Because I thought not to make trouble." She edged forward in her chair. "Now look. Zat happen precisely zee way I say. I thought not to make trouble. Zen I sink, murder ees so horrible, I have no right. Zen I phone you and say I weel tell zee police. Zen I sink, Mr Barrett ees friend of Mees Tormic, so to be fair I should tell heem what I do, and I phone heem. Of course, he know how I am refugee, how I escape, how I must not put people in danger-"

"By the way where did you first meet Mr Barrett?"

"I meet heem in Paris."

"Go ahead."

"So he say, good God, zee police kestion me so much, zey must know everysing about me, so dangerous to me and to so many people so why do I not go to veesit Mees Reade, so I pack my bags-"

There was a knock at the door and Fritz entered. He advanced and spoke over a dick's shoulder:

"Mr Panzer, sir."

"Tell him I'm engaged with Madame Zorka and Mr Cramer."

"I did so, sir. He said he would like to see you."

"Send him in."

Cramer bellowed, "So it was Donald Barrett that got you to take a powder-"

"Just a moment," Wolfe begged him. "I think we're getting a reinforcement."

Nobody seeing Saul Panzer for the first time would have regarded him as a valuable reinforcement for anything whatever, but they would have been wrong. A lot of people had underrated him, and a lot of people had paid for it. He had left his old brown cap and coat in the hall and, as he stood there absorbing a couple of million details of the little group with one quick glance, everything about him looked insignificant but his big nose.

Wolfe asked him, "Results, Saul?"

"Yes, sir."

"Definite?"

"Yes, sir."

"Indeed. Let us have them."

"I was going to bring her birth certificate along, but I thought that might make trouble, so I took a copy-"

He retreated a step, because Zorka had leaped to her feet, confronted him, and practically shrieked at him, "You didn't! You couldn't-"

A dick reached for her elbow and Cramer bawled, "Sit down!"

"But he-if he-"

"I said sit down!"

She backed up, stumbled on the other dick's foot, recovered her balance, and dropped into her chair. Her shoulders sagged, and she sat that way.

Saul said, "I didn't have to make any expenditure of the kind you contemplated, but I spent three dollars and ninety cents on a phone call. I thought it was justified."

"No doubt. Go ahead."

Saul took his step back. "First I went to Madame Zorka's apartment. There were four city detectives there making a search, and the maid was sitting in a bedroom crying. I had already decided what to do if I found that, so I merely went in-"

He stopped, with a glance at Cramer and the dicks.

"Go on, don't mind them," Wolfe told him. "If it ruins a modus operandi for you, you'll invent an even better one for next time."

"Thank you, sir. I went in for a minute only, establishing a friendly basis, and got the maid to look at me. Then I went to Madame Zorka's place of business on 54th Street. There were more city detectives there, but aside from that it didn't look promising, and I decided to leave it as a last resort. From a certain source I got three leads on friends and associates, and I spent nearly four hours on that line, counting lunch, but got nothing at all.

"I then, at two-fifteen, returned to the apartment. I learned downstairs that two of the detectives were still there, so I waited until they left, which was at 2.35, and then went up. I rang the bell and the maid opened the door and I went in. On account of the impression created at my visit in the morning, she took it for granted that I was a city detective, though I did not say so. I merely went in and started searching-"

Cramer growled, "By God, impersonating-"

"Oh, no, Inspector." Saul looked shocked. "I wouldn't impersonate an officer. But I did suspect the maid made a mistake and took me for one, for otherwise she might have objected to my searching the place. I thought if she had it fixed in her mind that I was a city detective, she probably wouldn't believe me anyway if I tried to tell her I wasn't, so I didn't try. And if you won't regard it as impertinent, I'd like to compliment you on the job your men did. You would hardly know the place had been touched, the way they left things, and they must have gone through every inch. And the fact that they had been over it made it unnecessary for me to do any of the superficial things. I could concentrate on the long chance that there was some trick they had missed. It wasn't much of a trick at that, only a false bottom in a leather hatbox. Underneath it I found her birth certificate and a few letters and things. I left it all there after taking a copy of the certificate, and then I went out to a phone booth and made a long-distance call to Ottumwa, Iowa, to her mother just to make sure."

Zorka blurted at him, "You, you phoned my mother. "

"Yes, ma'am, I did. It's all right. I didn't scare her, or anything. I made it all right. Having found out from the birth certificate that your name is Pansy Bupp, and having read a letter-"

"What's that?" Wolfe demanded. "Her name is what?"

"Pansy Bupp." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. P-A-N-S-Y B-U-P-P. Her father is William O. Bupp. He runs a feed store. She was born at Ottumwa on April 9, 1912-"

"Give me that paper."

Saul handed it over. Wolfe glared at it, ate it with his eyes, and transferred the glare to her, and it was one of the few times on record that I would have called his tone a snarl as he shot at her:

"Why?"

She snarled back, "Why what?"

"Why that counfounded drivel? That imbecile flummery?"

She looked as if she would like to stick a knife through him. "What do you think would happen," she demanded, "to a Fifth Avenue couturiиre if it came out that her name was Pansy Bupp?" Her voice rose to an indignant wail. "What do you think will happen?"

Wolfe, beside himself with fury, wiggled a whole hand at her. "Answer me!" he roared. "Is your name Pansy Bupp?"

"Yes "

"Were you born in Ottumwa, Iowa?"

"Yes "

"When did you leave there?"

"Why, I. I took trips to Denver-"

"I'm not speaking of trips to Denver! When did you leave there?"

"Two years ago-nearly. My father gave me money for a trip to Paris-and I got a job there and learned to design-and I met Donald Barrett, and he suggested-"

"Where did you get the name Zorka?"

"I saw it somewhere-"

"Have you ever been in Yugoslavia?"

"No "

"Or anywhere in Europe besides Paris?"

"No "

"Is what you said last night-about the reason for your phoning here and then running away to Miss Reade's place-is that the truth?"

"Yes, it is. Like a fool, an utter fool"-she gulped-"I let my conscience bother me because it was murder. If I hadn't done that, none of this. " She flung out her hands. "Oh, can it be-can't this be-?" Her chin was quivering.

"Miss Bupp!" Wolfe thundered. "Don't you dare! Archie, get her out of here! Get her out of the house!"

"Zat weel be a plaizhoore," I said.

Chapter Sixteen Wolfe looked up at the wall clock and said, "Ten minutes to four. I'll have to leave you pretty soon to go up to my plants "

We were comparatively peaceful again. The two dicks had departed with Miss Bupp, and Lieutenant Rowcliff had been phoned to expect her at headquarters for a little talk.

Cramer said, "It could be a frame, you know. We've tried some of her friends and associates, too. We heard she was a Turk, a Hungarian, a Russian Jew, and maybe part Jap It won't hurt any to check it up "

Wolfe shook his head, grimaced and muttered, "Ottumwa, Iowa "

"I guess so," the inspector admitted. "Does that shove you off on to a siding?"

"No It merely. " Wolfe shrugged.

"It merely leaves you still waiting at the station, huh?" Getting no answer, he regarded Wolfe a moment and then went on: "As far as I'm concerned, I'm still playing these. If you go up to your plants, I go along. If you go to the kitchen to mix salad dressing-"

"You don't mix salad dressing in the kitchen. You do it at the table and use it immediately."

"All right. No matter what you go to the kitchen for, I go too. It's plainer than ever that you know where the kernel is in this nut and I don't. Take the fact of Donald Barrett chasing this Zorka Bupp away so we couldn't get at her. I would get fat trying to put the screws on Donald Barrett, with both the commissioner and the district attorney having a bad attack of bashfulness. Wouldn't I? But you don't even waste time with Donald. You have his old man, John P. himself, coming right here and walking right into your office. That goes to show "

Wolfe looked at me. "Archie. Find out if Theodore failed to understand that when I sent a gentleman to look at orchids-"

Cramer snorted. "Don't bother. I didn't sneak downstairs and take a peek. Rowcliff told me on the phone that he had received a report that John P. Barrett had been seen entering this address at 2.55 this p.m."

"Were you having Mr Barrett followed?"

"No."

"I see. You have a regiment watching this house."

"I wouldn't say a regiment. But I've said, and I say again, that right now I'm more interested in this house than any other building in the borough of Manhattan. If you want me out of it you'll have to call the police. By the way, another thing Rowcliff told me: They've found Belinda Reade. She's at a matinee at the Lincoln Theatre. Do we want her in here?"

"I don't."

"Then I don't either. The boys'll take care of her. If she can account satisfactorily for-is that for me?"

I nodded, and vacated my chair for him to take another phone call. This was a comparatively short one. He emitted a few grunts and made a few unilluminating remarks, and hung up and returned to his chair. No sooner had I got back into mine than the house phone buzzed. As I pulled it over to me I heard Wolfe asking Cramer if there was anything new and the inspector replying that there was nothing worth mentioning and then, over the house phone, in response to my hallo, Fred Durkin's voice was in my ear:

"Archie? Come up here."

I said with irritation, "Damn it, Fritz, I'm busy." Then I waited a minute and said, "Okay, okay, quit running off your face," and got up and beat it to the hall, shutting the door behind me. I went quickly but noiselessly up one flight of stairs, opened the door of Wolfe's room and entered. Fred Durkin was there on a chair beside the bed, within reach of the phone, where he had been instructed to place himself two hours previously.

He started to grumble, "This is one hell of a job-"

"Don't crab, my boy. From each according to his ability. What is it, Lovchen?"

He nodded. "I didn't call you when he got the report on Zorka, because he told them to bring her here; but-"

"What about Lovchen?"

"Her tail phoned in to headquarters." Fred looked at a pad of paper he had scribbled on. "They followed her to Miltan's this morning, and she left there at ten fifty-three and went back to 404 East 38th Street-"

"The hell she did! Anyone with her?"

"No, she was alone. She stayed in there only about ten minutes. At eleven-fifteen she came out and went to Second Avenue and took a taxi. She got out at the Maidstone Building on 42nd Street. They were a little behind her as she entered the building, and she popped into an elevator just as the door was closing, and they missed it. They couldn't find out from the elevator boy what floor she got off at, and anyway, as you know and I know, that would be bad tailing, because she could have taken to the stairs and gone up or down. There are four different rows of elevators to watch in that building, and they were afraid to leave to go to a phone, but just now a cop passed by and they flagged him, and had him send in a report. They're sure she hasn't left the building, and they want help, because the rush hour will be on at five o'clock."

"Is that all?"

"That's the crop."

I made a face. "And Cramer, the louse, said there was no news worth mentioning! He's going upstairs with Wolfe to the roof. When you hear the elevator go up, you go down to the office and stay there. Take all calls. If anybody comes, tell Wolfe on the house phone. Write out a report of what you've told me, and add to it that I've gone to the Maidstone Building, and send it up to Wolfe by Fritz. If I call in and there's anyone in the office, use code. Got it?"

"I've got it. But why not let me go-?"

"No, my boy, this is a job for a master."

I left him there. Descending the stairs as fast as I could without making a hubbub, I went to the kitchen and told Fritz:

"Go to the office and tell Wolfe the goose hasn't been delivered and you've sent me to the Washington Market for it. Tell him I protested and complain bitterly of the language I used. That is for the benefit of Inspector Cramer. Fred has the low-down. Got it?"

"Yes," Fritz hissed.

I left by way of the front hall, grabbing my hat and coat. Outside was no regiment, but there was a dick on the sidewalk not far from the stoop, and another one across the street, and a taxi was parked fifty yards east. Not to mention Cramer's police car, there nosing the hind end of my roadster. I climbed in the roadster and started the engine, called to Cramer's chauffeur, "Follow me to the scene of the crime!" and rolled. I didn't go far, only around the corner and a couple of blocks on Tenth Avenue, and then stopped at the kerb, locked the ignition, got out and stopped the first taxi that came along. I waited a minute to see either the police car or the taxi if they turned in from 35th Street, but apparently my invitation hadn't been accepted, so I hopped in and told the driver 42nd and Lexington.

Entering the marble lobby of the fifty-storey Maidstone Building, I felt fairly sappy. I had come because Wolfe had instructed me that if Fred copped any news about Carla Lovchen I was to follow it up, and the only way I could follow it up was to go there. I felt sappy because, observing the extent and complications of the lobby, with the four banks of elevators and the twisting crowds, not to mention such things as stairways and possibly basement exits, it seemed good for even money that she had moved out and on; and also, even if she hadn't, I stood a fat chance of grabbing her and getting away with her under the circumstances. Apparently the tails had already got their reinforcements; I had easily spotted three of them on one quick survey. It was obvious that the lobby was no place for me, even if she walked out of an elevator right into my arms.

I had had one feeble idea on my way up in the taxi, and I proceeded to use that up. The building directory board was in two sections, on two sides of the lobby, one A to L and the other M to Z. I tackled the first section and went over it thoroughly, a name at a time, hoping for a hint or a hunch. I got neither, and moved across to the second section, and there, nearing the end, I saw WHEELER amp; DRISCLOLL, 3259. It looked slim, but I went to the information booth and told the guy, "I'm looking for a tenant and don't know his firm. Nat Driscoll. Or maybe instead of Nat, Nathaniel."

He opened his book with weary hands and looked at it with weary eyes and said in a weary voice, "Driscoll, Nathaniel, 3259, thirty-second floor, elevators on the-"

I was gone. My heart had started to pump. I love the feeling of a hunch.

I got out at the thirty-second and walked half a mile, around three corners, to 3259. The lettering on the door said: