Some Buried Caesar

Chapter 13

He sat in the chair McMillan had vacated and continued to look tolerably amused. Wolfe, immovable, with his eyes nearly shut, appeared to be more than half asleep, which may or may not have deceived Bronson but didn’t deceive me. I yawned. With the angle of the light striking Bronson as it did, his nose looked blunter than it had on the veranda, as if it had at some time been permanently pushed, and his clever gray eyes looked smaller.

Finally he said in a cultivated tone, “I understood you wanted to ask me something.”

Wolfe nodded. “Yes, sir. Were you able to overhear much of my conversation with Miss Osgood this afternoon?”

“Not a great deal. In fact, very little.” Bronson smiled. “What was that for, to see if I would make an effort at indignation? Let me suggest… we won’t really need finesse. I know a little something about you, I’m aware of your resources, but I have a few myself. Why don’t we just agree that you’re not a fool and neither am I?”

“Indeed.” Wolfe’s lids had lifted so that his eyes were more than slits. “Are you really a coolheaded man? There are so few.”

“I’m fairly intelligent.”

“Then thank heaven we can discuss facts calmly, without a lot of useless pother… facts which I have got from Miss Osgood. For instance, that you are what Mr. Osgood - and many other people - would call an unscrupulous blackguard.”

“I don’t…” Bronson flipped a hand. “Oh, well. Calling names…”

“Just so. I can excoriate stupidity, and often do, because it riles me, but moral indignation is a dangerous indulgence. Ethology is a chaos. Financial banditry, for example… I either condemn it or I don’t; and if I do, without prejudice, where will I find jailers? No. My only excuse for labeling you an unscrupulous blackguard is the dictionary, and I do it to clarify our positions. I’m in the detective business, and you’re in the blackguard business… and I want to consult with you about both. I am counting on you to help me in my investigation of a murder, and I also have a suggestion to make regarding one of your projects - the one that brought you here. Regarding the murder -”

“Perhaps we’d better take the last one first and get it out of the way. I’m always open to a reasonable suggestion.”

“As you please, sir.” Wolfe’s lips pushed out, and in again. “You have a paper signed by Clyde Osgood. You showed it to Miss Osgood this morning.”

“A receipt for money I paid him.”

“Specifying the services he was to perform in return.”

“Yes.”

“The performance of which would render him likewise a blackguard… in the estimation of his father.”

“That’s right.”

Wolfe stirred. “I want that paper. Now wait. I offer no challenge to your right to expect your money back. I concede that right. But I don’t like your methods of collection. You may have a right to them too, but I do not like them. Miss Osgood aroused my admiration this afternoon, which is rare for a woman, and I want to relieve the pressure on her. I propose that you hand the paper to Mr. Goodwin; it will be safe in his custody. Within 10 days at the outside I shall either pay you the $10,000, or have it paid, or return the paper to you. I make that pledge without reservation.” Wolfe aimed a thumb at me. “Give it to him.”

The blackguard shook his head, slowly and positively. “I said a reasonable suggestion.”

“You won’t do it?”

“No.”

“The security is superlative. I rarely offer pledges, because I would redeem one, tritely, with my life.”

“I couldn’t use your life. The security you offer may be good, but the paper signed by Osgood is better, and it belongs to me. Why the deuce should I give it up?”

I looked at Wolfe inquiringly. “I’d be glad to undertake -”

“No, thanks, Archie. We’ll pass it, at least for the present. - I hope, Mr. Bronson, that your antagonism will find -”

“I’m not antagonistic,” Bronson interrupted. “Don’t get me wrong. I said I’m not a fool, and I would be a fool to antagonize you. I know very well I’m vulnerable, and I know what you can do. If I make an enemy of you I might as well leave New York. I’ve only been there two months, but if you wanted to take the trouble to trace me back I don’t deny you could do it. You wouldn’t find that a cell is waiting for me anywhere, but you could collect enough to make it damned hard going… too hard. I’ve had a bad break on this Clyde Osgood thing, but I can try again and expect better luck, and God knows I don’t want you hounding me, and you wouldn’t go to the expense and trouble just for the fun of it. Believe me, I’m not antagonistic. You have no right to get sore about my not surrendering that paper, because it’s mine, but otherwise I’m for you. If I can help any I will.”

“No finesse, Mr. Bronson?”

“None.”

“Good. Then tell me first, where were you born?”

Bronson shook his head. “I said help you, not satisfy your curiosity.”

“You’ve admitted I can trace you back if I care to take the trouble.”

“Then take the trouble.”

“Very well, I’ll be more direct. Have you ever handled cattle?”

Bronson stared, then let out a short laugh and said, “My God, must I take it back about your not being a fool? Do you mean to say you’re trying to fit me in that thing?”

“Have you ever handled cattle?”

“I’ve never had the slightest association with cattle. I know where milk and beef come from only because I read it somewhere.”

“Where is the club you were carrying last night when you accompanied Clyde Osgood to Pratt’s place?”

“Club?”

“Yes. A rough club, a length of sapling.”

“Why… I don’t think… Oh yes. Sure, I remember. It was leaning up against a shed as we went by, and I just -”

“Where is it?”

“You mean now? After all -”

“Where did you leave it?”

“Why… I don’t… Oh! Sure. When we got to the fence, where the trees ended, Clyde went on and I came back. He took the club with him.”

“What for?”

Bronson shrugged. He had himself collected again. “Just to have it, I suppose. I notice you carry a heavy walking stick. What for?”

“Not to knock myself unconscious with. Did Clyde ask for the club? Did you offer it to him?”

“I don’t know. It was quite casual, one way or the other. Why, was he knocked on the head? I thought he was killed with a pick, according to your -”

“You’re supposed to be helping, sir, not chattering. I need the truth about that club.”

“You’ve had it.”

“Nonsense. You were obviously disconcerted, and you stalled.” Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. “If you don’t want my antagonism, beware. This is the most favorable chance you’ll have to tell the truth, here privately with me in comparative amity. Isn’t it a fact that you yourself carried the club to Mr. Pratt’s place?”

“No. I didn’t go there.”

“You stick to that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“I warn you again, beware. But say we take that, for the moment, for truth, tell me this: why was Clyde going to Pratt’s? What was he going to do there?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did he say he was going to do?”

“He didn’t say.”

Wolfe shut his eyes and was silent. I saw the tip of his index finger making little circles on the arm of his chair, and knew he was speechless with fury. After a minute Bronson began:

“I may as well -”

“Shut up!” Wolfe’s lids quivered as he opened his eyes. “You’re making a mistake. A bad one. Listen to this. You were demanding immediate repayment of your money. Clyde, unable to raise the sum in New York, came here to appeal to his father, and you were in such a hurry, or mistrusted him so greatly, or both, that you came along. You wouldn’t let him out of your sight. His father refused his appeal, since Clyde wouldn’t tell him what the money was needed for - to save the Osgood honor would be correct phrasing - and you were ready to disclose the facts to the father and collect your debt direct from him. Then Clyde, in desperation, made a bet. He couldn’t possibly win the bet and pay you for 6 days, until the week expired, and what acceptable assurance could he give you that he would win it at all? Only one assurance could have induced you to wait: a satisfactory explanation of the method by which he expected to win. So he gave it to you. Don’t try to tell me he didn’t; I’m not a gull. He told you how he expected to win, and the steps he proposed to take. Very well, you tell me.”

Bronson shook his head. “All I can say is, you’re wrong. He didn’t tell -”

“Pfui. I’m right. I know when I’m right. Beware, sir.”

Bronson shrugged. “It won’t get you anywhere to keep telling me to beware. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“Did Clyde Osgood tell you how and why he expected to win the bet?”

“No.”

“Or what he intended to do at Pratt’s or whom he expected to see there?”

“No.”

“You’re making a bad blunder.”

“No, I’m not. I may be getting in bad with you, but I can’t help it. For God’s sake -”

“Shut up. You’re a fool after all.” Wolfe turned and snapped at me: “Archie, get that paper.”

He might have prepared me by one swift glance before putting it into words, but when I complained to him about such things he always said that my speed and wit required no preparation, and I retorted that I could put up with less sarcastic flattery and more regard for my convenience.

On this occasion it didn’t matter much. Bronson was about my size but I doubted if he was tough. However, it was a murder case, and Wolfe had just been insinuating that this gentleman had been on the scene of hostilities with a club in his hand, so I got upright and across to his neighborhood quick enough to forestall any foolish motions he might make. I stuck my hand out and said:

“Gimme.”

He shook his head and got up without haste, kicking his chair back without looking at it, looking instead at me with his eyes still steady and clever.

“This is silly,” he said. “Damned silly. You can’t bluff me like this.”

I asked without turning my head, “Do you want it, Mr. Wolfe?”

“Get it.”

“Okay. - Reach for the moon. I’ll help myself.”

“No you won’t.” His eyes didn’t flicker. “If you try taking it away from me, I won’t fight. I’m not much of a coward, but I’m not in condition and I’d be meat for you. Instead, I’ll yell, and Osgood will come, and of course he’ll want a look at the paper that’s causing the trouble.” He smiled.

“You will?”

“I will.”

“Back at you. If you do, I’ll show you how I make sausage. I warn you, one bleat and I’ll quit only when the ambulance comes. After Osgood reads the paper he’ll offer to pay me to do it again. Hold that pose.”

I started to reach, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t try a dive with his knee up, and without flashing a flag. He was fairly quick, but I side-stepped in time. It wasn’t absolutely essential to punch him, but a guy as tricky as he was needed a lesson anyway, so I let him have it, a good stiff hook that lifted him out of his dive and turned him over. I was beside him, bending over him, by the time he got his eyes open again.

“Stay there,” I told him. “I don’t know which pocket it’s in. Do you think you can remember that? If so, gimme.”

His hand started for his inside breast pocket, and I reached in ahead of him and pulled out something that proved to be a handsome brown leather wallet with a monogram on it in platinum or maybe tin. He grabbed for it and I jerked away and told him to get up and sit down, and backed off a little to examine the loot.

“My word.” I whistled. “Here’s an accumulation of currency out of all proportion. A couple of thousand or more. Pipe down, you. I don’t steal from blackguards. But I don’t see… ah, here we are. Secret compartments you might say.” I unfolded it and ran my eye over it, and handed it to Wolfe. “Return the balance?”

He nodded, reading. I handed the wallet back to Bronson, who was back on his feet. He looked a little disarranged, but he met my eye as he took the wallet from me, and I had to admit there was something to him, although misplaced; it isn’t usual to meet the eye of a bird who has just knocked you down and made you like it. Wolfe said, “Here, Archie,” and handed me the paper, and from my own breast pocket I took the brown ostrich card case, gold-tooled, given to me by Wolfe on a birthday, in which I carried my police and fire cards and operator’s license. I slipped the folded paper inside and returned it to my pocket.

Wolfe said, “Mr. Bronson. There are other questions I meant to ask, such as the purpose of your trip to Mr. Pratt’s place this afternoon, but it would be futile. I am even beginning to suspect that you are now engaged in an enterprise which may prove to be a bigger blunder than your conduct here with me. As for the paper Mr. Goodwin took from you, I guarantee that within 10 days you will get it back, or your money. Don’t try any stratagems. I’m mad enough already. Good night, sir.”

“I repeat… I’ve told you…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re a fool. Good night.”

Bronson went.

Wolfe heaved a deep sigh. I poured out a glass of milk, and sipped, and saw that he had an eye cocked at me. In a minute he murmured:

“Archie. Where did you get that milk?”

“Refrigerator.”

“In the kitchen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well?”

“Yes, sir. There’s 5 or 6 bottles in there. Shall I bring you one?”

“You might have saved yourself a trip.” His hand dived into his side coat pocket and came out clutching a flock of beer bottle caps. He opened his fist and counted them, frowning, and told me, “Bring two.”