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  Gambit

  Rex Stout

  Gambit Rex Stout Series: Nero Wolfe [37] Published: 2000 Tags: Vintage Mystery

  Vintage Mysteryttt

  SUMMARY:

  Archie Goodwin and the great detective tackle a tough case - the murder of an eccentric chess player.

  GambitRex StoutSeries: Nero Wolfe [37] Published: 2000 Tags: Vintage Mystery

  Vintage Mysteryttt

  SUMMARY:

  Archie Goodwin and the great detective tackle a tough case - the murder of an eccentric chess player.

  GAMBIT GAMBIT Rex Stout Chivers Press G.K. Hall & Co. Bath, England Thomdike, Maine USA This Large Print edition is published by Chivers Press, England, and by G.K. Hall & Co., USA. Published in 1997 in the U.K. by arrangement with Rebecca Stout Bradbury. Published in 1997 in the U.S. by arrangement with The Rex Stout Estate. U.K. Hardcover ISBN 0-7451-8854-0 (Chivers Large Print) U.K. Softcover ISBN 0-7451-8860-5 (Camden Large Print) U.S. Softcover ISBN 0-7838-1571-9 (Nightingale Collection Edition) Copyright � 1962 by Rex Stout All rights reserved. The text of this Large Print edition is unabridged. Other aspects of the book may vary from the original edition. Set in 16 pt. New Times Roman. Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Stout, Rex, 18661975 Gambit by Rex Stout. p. cm. ISBN 0-7838-1571-9 (Ig. print: sc) 1. Wolfe, Nero (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private Investigators—New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 3. Large type books. I. Title. [PS3537.T733G36 1996] 813’.52—dc20 9547741 CHAPTER ONE At twenty-seven minutes past eleven that Monday morning in February, Lincoln’s Birthday, I opened the door between the office and the front room, entered, shut the door, and said, ‘Miss Blount is here.’ Without turning his head Wolfe let out a growl, yanked out some more pages and dropped them on the fire, and demanded, ‘Who is Miss Blount?’ I tightened my lips and then parted them to say, ‘She is the daughter of Matthew Blount, president of the Blount Textile Corporation, who is in the coop charged with murder, and she has an appointment with you at eleventhirty, as you know. If you’re pretending you’ve forgotten, nuts. You knew you couldn’t finish that operation in half an hour. Besides, how about the comments I have heard you make about book burners?’ ‘They are not relevant to this.’ He yanked out more pages. ‘I am a man, not a government or a committee of censors. Having paid fortyseven dollars and fifty cents for this book, and having examined it and found it subversive and intolerably offensive, I am destroying it.’ He dropped the pages on the fire. ‘I’m in no mood to listen to a woman. Ask her to come after lunch.’ ‘I have also heard you comment about people who dodge appointments they have made.’ Pause. More pages. Then: ‘Very well. Bring her here.’ I returned to the office, shutting the door, crossed to the red leather chair near the end of Wolfe’s desk where I had seated the caller, and faced her. She tilted her head back to look up at me. She was a brownie, not meaning a Girl Scout�small ears and a small nose, big brown eyes, a lot of brown hair, and a wide mouth that would have been all right with the corners turned up instead of down. ‘I’d better explain,’ I told her. ‘Mr Wolfe is in the middle of a fit. It’s complicated. There’s a fireplace in the front room, but it’s never lit because he hates open fires. He says they stultify mental processes. But it’s lit now because he’s using it. He’s seated in front of it, on a chair too small for him, tearing sheets out of a book and burning them. The book is the new edition, the third edition, of Webster’s New International Dictionary, Unabridged, published by the G. & C. Merriam Company of Springfield, Massachusetts. He considers it subversive because it threatens the integrity of the English language. In the past week he has given me a thousand examples of its crimes. He says it is a deliberate attempt to murder the�I beg your pardon. I describe the situation at length because he told me to bring you in there, 2 and it will be bad. Even if he hears what you say, his mental processes are stultified. Could you come back later? After lunch he may be human.’ She was staring up at me. ‘He’s burning up a dictionary9’ ‘Right. That’s nothing. Once he burned up a cook-book because it said to remove the hide from a ham end before putting it in the pot with lima beans. Which he loves most, food or words, is atossup.’ ‘I don’t want to come back.’ She stood up. ‘I want to see him now. I must see him now.’ The trouble was, if I persuaded her to put it off she might not show again. When she had phoned for an appointment it had looked as if we were going to have Matthew Blount for a client, and, judging from the newspapers and the talk around town, he could use plenty of good detective work; and he could pay for it, even at Nero Wolfe’s rates. So I didn’t want to shoo her out, and also there was her face�not only the turned-down corners of her mouth, but the look in her eyes. There is trouble in the eyes of nearly everyone who comes to that office, but hers were close to desperate. If I eased her out she might go straight to some measly agency with no genius like Wolfe and no dog like me. ‘Okay, but I told you,’ I said, and went to my desk for my notebook, stepped to the door to the front room, and opened it. She came, 3 leaving her coat, pallid mink, on the back of the chair. I moved up chairs for us, but with Wolfe so close to the fireplace I couldn’t put her directly facing him. He rarely stands when a caller enters, and of course he didn’t then, with the dictionary, the two-thirds of it that was left, on his lap. He dropped sheets on the fire, turned to look at her, and inquired, ‘Do you use “infer” and “imply” interchangeably. Miss Blount?’ She did fine. She said simply, ‘No.’ ‘This book says you may. Pfui. I prefer not to interrupt this auto-da-fe. You wish to consult me?’ ‘Yes. About my father. He is in—he has been arrested for murder. Two weeks ago a man died, he was poisoned—’ ‘If you please. I read newspapers. Why do you come to me?’ ‘I know my father didn’t do it and I want you to prove it.’ ‘Indeed. Did your father send you?’ ‘No.’ ‘Did his attorney, Mr Kalmus?’ ‘No, nobody sent me. Nobody knows I’m here. I have twenty-two thousand dollars here in my bag.’ She patted it, brown leather with straps, on her lap. ‘I didn’t have that much, but I sold some things. I can get more if I have to. My father and mother mustn’t know I’m doing this, and neither must Clan Kalmus.’ ‘Then it’s impossible.’ Wolfe tore pages 4 loose and dropped them on the fire. ‘Why must they not know?’ ‘Because they wouldn’t let—they’d stop it. I’m sure my father would.’ She was gripping the bag. ‘Mr Wolfe, I came to you because I had to. I knew I’d have to tell you things I shouldn’t tell anybody. This is the first good thing I have ever done. That’s the trouble with me, I never do anything bad and I never do anything good, so what’s the use? And I’m twenty-two years old, that’s why I brought twenty-two thousand dollars.’ She patted the bag. ‘But I’m doing this. Clan Kalmus has been my father’s lawyer for years, and he may be good at business things, but he’s no good for this. I know he isn’t; I’ve known him all my life. Last week I told him he should get you, get you to help, and he smiled at me and said no, he didn’t like the way you work. He says he knows what he’s doing and it will be all right, but it won’t. I’m afraid; I’m scared clear through.’ She leaned forward. ‘Mr Wolfe, my father will be convicted of murder.’ Wolfe grunted. He tore pages. ‘If your father wants to hire me I might consider it without his attorney’s approval, but it would be difficult.’ She was shaking her head. ‘He wouldn’t. If Clan Kalmus said no, he wouldn’t. And my mother wouldn’t if my father said no. So it’s just me. I can hire you, can’t I?’ ‘Certainly not. Without the cooperation of your father and his attorney I couldn’t move a 5 finger.5 Wolfe tore pages with a little extra force. Twenty-two grand wouldn’t break any record, but it would be a nice start on 1962. ‘That’s silly,’ Miss Blount said. ‘Of course your mental processes are stultified by the fire. Why I told Clan Kalmus to get you, and wh
y I came, I thought you could do things that nobody else can do. You’re supposed to be a wizard. Everyone says you are. Clan Kalmus himself said you’re a wizard, but he doesn’t want you taking over his case. That’s what he said, “my case.” It’s not his case, it’s my father’s case!’ ‘Yes,’ Wolfe agreed, ‘your father’s case, not yours. You must—’ ‘I’m making it mine! Didn’t I say this is the first good thing I’ve ever done?’ Leaning forward, she grabbed his wrist and jerked his hand away from the dictionary, and hung on to the wrist. ‘Does a wizard only do easy things? What if you’re the only man on earth who can save my father from being convicted of a murder he didn’t do? If there was something I could do that no one else on earth could do, I’d do it! You don’t need my father or his attorney because I can tell you anything they can. I can tell you things they wouldn’t, like that Clan Kalmus is in love with my mother. Clan Kalmus wouldn’t, and my father couldn’t because he doesn’t know it, and he’s in jail and I’m not!’ She turned loose the wrist, and Wolfe tore 6 out pages and dropped them on the fire. He was scowling, not at the dictionary. She had hit exactly the right note, calling him a wizard and implying (not inferring) that he was the one and only�after mentioning what she had in her bag. He turned the scowl on her. ‘You say you know he didn’t do it. Is that merely an opinion seemly for a daughter or can you support it with evidence?’ ‘I haven’t any evidence. All the evidence is against him. But it’s not just an opinion, I know it. I know my father well enough to�’ ‘No.’ He snapped it. ‘That is cogent for you but not for me. You want to engage me, and pay me, to act on behalf of a man without his knowledge�a man who, in spite of his wealth and standing, has been charged with murder and locked up. The evidence must be strong. Your father wouldn’t be my client; you would.’ ‘All right, I will.’ She opened the bag. ‘I said would. It’s preposterous, but it is also tempting. I need to know�but first what Mr Goodwin and I already know.’ His head turned. ‘Archie. What do we know?’ ‘The crop?’ I asked. ‘Or the highlights?’ ‘Everything. Then we’ll see if Miss Blount has anything to add.’ ‘Well.’ I focused on the prospective client. ‘This is from the papers and some talk I’ve heard. If I’m wrong on anything don’t try to remember until I’m through, stop me. The 7 Gambit Club is a chess club with two floors in an old brick building on West Twelfth Street. It has about sixty members, business and professional men and a couple of bankers. As chess clubs go, it’s choosy. Tuesday evening, January thirtieth, two weeks ago tomorrow, it had an affair. A man named Paul Jerin, twenty-six years old, not a member, was to play simultaneous blindfold games with twelve of the members. ‘About Paul Jerin. I’m mixing the papers and the talk I’ve heard without separating them. He was a screw-ball. He had three sources of income: from writing verses and gags for greeting cards, from doing magic stunts at parties, and from shooting craps. Also he was hot at chess, but he only played chess for fun, no tournament stuff. You knew him. You met him�how long ago?’ ‘About a year. I met him at a party where he did tricks.’ ‘And he cultivated you�or you cultivated him. I’ve heard it both ways�of course you realize there’s a lot of talk, a thing like this. Learning that he played chess, you arranged for him to play a game with your father, at your home. Then he came again, and again. How often? I’ve heard different versions.’ ‘He played chess with my father only three times. Three evenings. He said it was no fun because it was too easy. The last time he gave my father odds of a rook and beat him. That 8 was months ago.’ ‘But aside from chess you saw a lot of him. One version, you were going to marry him, but your father�’ That’s not true. I never dreamed of marrying him. And I didn’t see a lot of him. The police have asked me about it, and I know exactly. In the last three months I saw him just five times, at parties, mostly dancing. He was a good dancer. No girl with any sense would have married him.’ I nodded. ‘So much for talk. But you got your father to arrange that affair at the Gambit Club.’ We had to keep our voices up because of the noise Wolfe made tearing paper. ‘They’ve asked me about that too,’ she said. ‘The way it happened, Paul suggested it to me, he said it would be fun to flatten their noses, and I told my father, but I didn’t get him to do it. He said he thought two or three of the members could beat Paul with him playing blindfold, and he arranged it.’ ‘Okay, he arranged it. Of course that’s important. Did your father know that Paul always drank hot chocolate when he was playing chess?’ ‘Yes. Paul drank hot chocolate when he was doing almost anything.’ ‘Then we’ll tackle the affair of January thirtieth. It was stag. Men only.’ ^Yes. ‘This is from the papers. I read murders in 9 the papers, but with full attention only when we’re in on it, so I may slip up. If I do, stop me. No one was there but club members, about forty of them, and Paul Jerin, and the steward, named Bernard Nash, and the cook, named Tony Laghi. In a big room on the ground floor there were twelve chess tables, in two rows, six tables in each row, ranged along the two long walls, and at each table a club member sat with his back to the wall. They were the players. That left room in the middle, the length of the room, for the other members to move around and watch the play. Right?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But four of the other members didn’t just watch the play, they were messengers. Paul Jerin was in a smaller room to the rear of the house which one paper, I think the Times, said contains the best chess library in the country. He was sitting on a couch, and, after play started, he was alone in the room. The tables were designated by numbers, and each messenger served three tables. When play started a messenger went in to Jerin and told him the table�’ ‘Not when play started. A man playing blindfold has white at all the boards and makes the first move.’ ‘I should think he’d need it. Anyway, whenever a member at one of the tables made a move the messenger serving that table went in to Jerin and told him the table number and the 10 move, and Jerin told him his move in reply, and he went back out to the table and reported it. Right?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Okay, but I don’t believe it. I have monkeyed with chess a little, enough to get the idea, and I do not believe that any man could carry twelve simultaneous games in his head without seeing the boards. I know men have done it, even twenty games, but I don’t believe it.’ Wolfe grunted. ‘One hundred and sixty-nine million, five hundred and eighteen thousand, eight hundred and twenty-nine, followed by twenty-one ciphers. The number of ways the first ten moves, both sides, may be played. A man who can play twelve simultaneous games blindfold is a lusus nature. Merely a freak.’ ‘Is that material?’ I asked him. ‘No.’ I returned to Sally Blount. She had told me on the phone that her name was Sarah but everyone called her Sally and she preferred it. ‘Play was to start at eight-thirty,’ I said, ‘but it actually started at eight-forty, ten minutes late. From then on Jerin was alone in the library except when one of the messengers entered. I think I can name them. Charles W. Yerkes, banker. Daniel Kalmus, attorney-at-law. Ernst Hausman, wealthy retired broker, one of the founders of the club. Morton Farrow, a nephew of Mrs Matthew Blount, your 11 mother.’ I paused, shutting my eyes. I opened them. ‘I pass. I’m sure one of the papers said what your cousin Morton does for a living, but I can’t recall it.’ ‘He’s in my father’s business.’ Her brows were up, making her eyes even bigger. ‘You must have a good memory, even without your full attention.’ ‘My memory is so good I’m practically a freak, but we keep newspapers for two weeks and I admit I looked them over after you phoned. From here on you may know things that haven’t been published. The police and the District Attorney always save some details. I know from the papers that your father played at Table Number Six. That the steward and the cook, Bernard Nash and Tony Laghi, were in the kitchen in the basement, down a flight. That shortly after play started a pot of hot chocolate was taken from the kitchen to Paul Jerin in the library, and he drank some, I don’t know how much, and about half an hour later he told one of the messengers, Yerkes, the banker, that he didn’t feel well, and at or about ninethirty he told another messenger, Kalmus, the lawyer, that he couldn’t go on; and Kalmus went and brought a doctor, one
of the players�I don’t know which table� named Victor Avery. Dr Avery asked Jerin some questions and sent someone to a drug store on Sixth Avenue for something. By the time the medicine arrived Jerin was worse and 12 the doctor dosed him. In another half an hour Jerin was even worse and they sent for an ambulance. He arrived at St Vincent’s Hospital in the ambulance, accompanied by Dr Avery, at a quarter to eleven, and he died at twenty minutes past three. Later the Medical Examiner found arsenic in him. The Times didn’t say how much, but the Gazette said seven grains. Any correction?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Not published if the arsenic was in the chocolate. Was it?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Also not published, the name of the person who took the chocolate from the kitchen up to the library. Do you know that?’ ‘Yes. My father did.’ I gawked at her. Wolfe’s hand stopped short on its way to the fire with pages. I spoke. ‘But your father was at Table Six, playing chess. Wasn’t he?’ ‘Yes. But when he made his second move the messenger for that table, Mr Hausman, wasn’t there at the moment, and he got up and went to see if Paul had been supplied with chocolate. Table Six was at the end of the room next to the library. The chocolate hadn’t been brought, and my father went down to the kitchen and got it.’ ‘And took it up to Jerin himself?’ ‘Yes.’ Wolfe shot a glance at her. I took a breath. 13 ‘Of course I believe you, but how do you know?’ ‘My father told me. The next day. He wasn’t arrested until Saturday�of course you know that. He told my mother and me exactly what happened. That’s partly why I know he didn’t do it, the way he told us about it, the way he took it for granted that we would know he didn’t do it.’ Her eyes went to Wolfe. ‘You would say that’s not cogent for you, but it certainly is for me. I know.’ ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘he delivered the chocolate. Putting it on a table by the couch Jerin was sitting on?’ ‘Yes. A tray, with the pot and a cup and saucer and a napkin.’ ‘You say your father told you all about it. Did Jerin eat or drink anything besides the chocolate?’ ‘No. There was nothing else.’ ‘Between the time your father took him the chocolate and the time he told Yerkes he didn’t feel well, about half an hour, did anyone enter the library besides the messengers?’ ‘No. At least my father thought not, but he wasn’t absolutely certain.’ She smiled at Wolfe. ‘I can ask him. You said you couldn’t move a finger without his cooperation, but I can get to see him and ask him anything you want me to. Of course without telling him it’s for you.’ No comment. He tore pages out. 14 I eyed her. ‘You said you don’t know if the arsenic was in the chocolate. Didn’t your father mention if there was any left in the pot and if it was kept for the police?’ ‘Yes, it was kept, but the pot was full.’ ‘Full? Hadn’t Jerin drunk any?’ ‘Yes, he had drunk a lot. When Mr Yerkes told my father that Paul had told him he wasn’t feeling well, my father went to the library. The pot had a little left in it, and the cup was half full. He took them down to the kitchen and rinsed them out. The cook and steward said nothing had been put in but milk and powdered chocolate and sugar. They had some more ready, and they filled the pot, and my father took it up to the library with a clean cup. Apparently Paul didn’t drink any of that because the pot was still full.’ I was staring at her, speechless. Wolfe wasn’t staring, he was glaring. ‘Miss Blount,’ he said. ‘Either your father is an unexampled jackass, or he is innocent.’ She nodded. ‘I know. I said I’d have to tell you things I shouldn’t tell anybody. I’ve already told you Clan Kalmus is in love with my mother, and now this. I don’t know whether my father has told the police about it. I suppose the cook and steward have, but maybe they haven’t. But I had to tell you, I have to tell you everything I know, so you can decide what to do. Don’t I?’ ‘Yes. I commend you. People seldom tell me 15 everything they know. The cook and steward have of course told the police; no wonder your father has been charged with murder.5 Wolfe shut his eyes and tried leaning back, but it was no go in that chair. In the made-to-order oversized chair at his desk that was automatic when he wanted to consider something, leaning back and closing his eyes, and, finding that it wouldn’t work, he let out a growl. He straightened up and demanded, ‘You have money in that bag?5 She opened it and took out a fat wad of bills with rubber bands around them. ‘Twenty-two thousand dollars,’ she said, and held it out to him. He didn’t take it. ‘You said you sold some things. What things? Yours?’ ‘Yes. I had some in my bank account, and I sold some jewelry.’ ‘Your own jewelry?’ ‘Yes. Of course. How could I sell someone else’s?’ ‘It has been done. Archie. Count it.’ I extended a hand and she gave me the wad. As I removed the rubber bands and started counting, Wolfe tore out pages and dropped them on the fire. There wasn’t much of the dictionary left, and, while I counted, fivehundreds and then C’s, he tore and dropped. I counted it twice to make sure, and when I finished there was no more dictionary except the binding. 16 ‘Twenty-two grand,’ I said. ‘Will this burn?’ he asked. ‘Sure; it’s buckram. It may smell a little. You knew you were going to burn it when you bought it. Otherwise you would have ordered leather.’ No response. He was bending forward, getting the binding satisfactorily placed. There was still enough fire, since Fritz had used wood as well as kindling. Watching the binding starting to curl, he spoke. ‘Take Miss Blount to the office and give her a receipt. I’ll join you shortly.’ fc CHAPTER TWO Twenty-two thousand dollars is not hay. Even after expenses and taxes it would make a healthy contribution to the upkeep of the old brownstone on West Thirty-fifth Street, owned by Wolfe, lived in and worked in by him, by Fritz Brenner, chef and house-keeper, and by me, and worked in by Theodore Horstmann, who spent ten hours a day, and sometimes more, nursing the ten thousand orchids in the plant rooms at the top of the house. I once calculated the outgo per hour for a period of six months, but I won’t mention the figure because the District Director of Internal Revenue might read this and tell one of his 17 sniffers to compare it with the income tax report. As for the twenty-two grand, received in cash, he would find it included in income. But when, at a quarter past one, I returned to the office after letting Sally Blount out and put the wad in the safe, I was by no means chipper. We had the wad with no strings attached; Wolfe had made it clear that his only commitment was to give it a try, but it seemed more than likely that we were licked before we started, and that’s hard to take for the ego of a wizard, not to mention a dog. I had filled a dozen pages of my notebook with such items as: 1. As far as Sally knew, none of the four messengers, the only ones besides her father and the cook and steward who had been in reaching distance of the chocolate, had ever seen Paul Jerin before or had any connection with him; and if they had she would almost certainly have known because they were all in the Blounts’ circle, one way or another, and she saw them fairly frequently. Ditto for Bernard Nash and Tony Laghi, the steward and cook, though she had never seen them. 2. The messengers. Charles W. Yerkes, the banker, had occasional social contacts with the Blounts. Blount was on the Board of Directors of Yerkes’s bank. Yerkes enjoyed being in the same room with Mrs Blount, Sally’s mother. but so did lots of men. In my notes I included a parenthesis, a guess that Sally thought it would 18 be just as well if men would take time out from looking at her mother to give her a glance now and then. That was a little odd, since Sally herself was no eyesore, but of course I hadn’t seen her mother. 3. Morton Farrow, age thirty-one, was not a wizard, but wasn’t aware of it. He drew a good salary from the Blount Textile Corporation only because he was Mrs Blount’s nephew, and thought he was underpaid. I’m translating what Sally told us, not quoting it. 4. Ernst Hausman, retired broker, a lifelong friend of Matthew Blount, was Sally’s godfather. He was an unhappy man and would die unhappy because he would give ten million dollars to be able to play a chess master without odds and mate him, and there was no hope. He hadn’t played a game with Blount for years because he suspected Blount of easing up on him. He had disapproved of the idea of having Paul Jerin come to the club and do his stunt; he thought no one but members should ever be allowed in. In short, a suffering snob. 5. Daniel Kalmus, the lawyer, had for years been counsel for
Blount’s corporation. Sally had some kind of strong feeling for him, but I wasn’t sure what it was, and I’m still not sure, so I’ll skip it. She had said that Yerkes was in his forties, and Hausman, her godfather, was over seventy, but she said definitely that Kalmus was fiftyone. If a twenty-two-year-old girl can rattle off the age of a man more 19 than twice as old who is not a relative and with whom she isn’t intimate, there’s a reason. There were other indications, not only things she said but her tone and manner. I put it down that her not trusting Kalmus—she always said ‘Clan Kalmus,’ not ‘Mr Kalmus’ or just ‘Kalmus’—that her not trusting him to pull her father out of the hole was only partly because she thought he couldn’t. The other part was a suspicion that even if he could, he wouldn’t. If Blount were sent to the chair, or even sent up for life, Mrs Blount might be available. Sally didn’t say that, but she mentioned for the third time that Clan Kalmus was in love with her mother. Wolfe asked her, ‘Is your mother in love with him?’ and she said, ‘Good heavens, no. She’s not in love with anyone—except of course my father.’ 6. So much for the messengers. Of the other items in my notebook I’ll report only one, the only one that was material. If any container that had held arsenic had been found the newspapers didn’t know about it, but that’s the kind of detail the police and DA often save. When Wolfe asked Sally if she knew anything about it I held my breath. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had said yes, a bottle half full of arsenic trioxide had been found in her father’s pocket. Why not? But she said that as far as she knew no container had been found. Dr Avery, who was usually called on by her father or mother when a doctor was needed, had told her 20 father two or three days after the affair, before Blount had been arrested, that after questioning and examining Jerin he had considered the possibility of poison and had looked around; he had even gone down to the kitchen; and he had found nothing. And four days ago, last Thursday, when Sally, after two sleepless nights, had gone to his office to get a prescription for a sedative, he had said that he had been told by an assistant DA that no container had ever been found, and now that Blount had been charged and was in custody he doubted if the police would try very hard to find one. The police hadn’t been called in until after Jerin died, and Blount, who had walked to the hospital, only a couple of blocks from the Gambit Club, after the ambulance had taken Jerin, had had plenty of opportunity to ditch a small object if he had one he wanted to get rid of. Dr Avery, convinced that his friend and patient Matthew Blount was innocent, had told Sally that someone must have had a container and disposed of it, and had advised her to tell Kalmus to hire a detective to try to find it. It was that advice from Dr Avery that had given Sally the idea of coming to Nero Wolfe. One item not in the notebook. At the end Wolfe told her that it was absurd to suppose that he could act without the knowledge of Kalmus and her father. He would have to see people. At the very least he would have to see 21 the four men who had been messengers, and, since he never left the house on business, they would have to come to him, and Sally would have to bring them or send them. Inevitably Kalmus would hear about it and would tell Blount. Sally didn’t like that. For a couple of minutes it had looked as if there was going to be an exchange, me handing her the wad and her giving me back the receipt, but after chewing on her lip for twenty seconds she decided to stick. She asked Wolfe who he wanted to see first, and he said we would let her know. She asked when, and he said he had no idea, he had to consider it. At a quarter past one, when I returned to the office, not chipper, after letting her out, and put the wad in the safe, he was sitting straight, his mouth pressed so tight he had no lips, his palms flat on the desk pad, scowling at the door to the front room. It could have been either his farewell to the subversive dictionary or his greeting to a hopeless job, and it wouldn’t help matters any to ask him which. As I swung the safe door shut, Fritz appeared to announce lunch, saw Wolfe’s pose and expression, looked at me, found my face no better, said, ‘All right, you tell him,’ and went. Of course business was out at the table, but Wolfe refuses to let anything whatever spoil a meal if the food is good, as it always is in that house, and he managed to pretend that life was sweet and the goose hung high. But when we 22 finished the coffee, got up, and crossed the hall back to the office, he went to his desk, sat, rested fists on the chair arms, and demanded, ‘Did he do it?’ I raised a brow. If Sally herself had been suspected of murder I would have humored him, since I am supposed, by him, after an hour or so in the company of an attractive young woman, to be able to answer any question he wants to ask about her. But it was stretching it too far to assume that my insight extended to relatives I had never seen, even a father. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘I admit that if there is anything to the idea of guilt by association there can also be innocence by association, but I recall that you once remarked to Lewis Hewitt that the transference�’ ‘Shut up!’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Why didn’t you intervene? Why didn’t you stop me?’ ‘My job is starting you, not stopping you.’ ‘Pfui. Why in heaven’s name did I consent? The money? Confound it, I’ll take to a cave and eat roots and berries. Money!’ ‘Nuts are good too, and the bark of some trees, and for meat you could try bats. It was only partly the money. She said you can do things no one else on earth can do, so when it developed that prying Blount loose is obviously something that no one on earth can do you were stuck. Whether Blount did it or 23 not is beside the point. You have to prove he didn’t even if he did. Marvelous. By far your best case.’ ‘Yours too. Ours. You didn’t stop me.’ He reached to put a finger on the button and pressed it, two short and one long, the beer signal. That was bad. He never rings for beer until an hour after lunch, giving him half an hour or so before he is to leave for his four-tosix afternoon session with Theodore in the plant rooms. I went to my desk. Seated there, my back is to the door to the hall, but in the mirror before me I saw Fritz enter with the beer and stop two paces in to aim his eyes at me with a question in them. One of my two million functions, as Fritz knows, is to keep Wolfe from breaking his beer rules. So I swiveled and said, ‘Okay. He’s taking to a cave, and I’m going along. This is a farewell fling.’ Fritz stood. ‘That woman? Or the dictionary?’ ‘I don’t want the beer,’ Wolfe said. ‘Take it back.’ Fritz turned and went. Wolfe took in a bushel of air through his nose as far down as it would go, and let it out through his mouth. ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Consideration of his guilt or innocence would be futile. Either we proceed on the assumption that he is innocent or we withdraw. Do you wish to get that stuff from the safe and go and return it to her?’ ‘No. We took it and let her go. You know 24 damn well why I didn’t try to stop you. It was too good to pass up�the chance of seeing you tackle one that was absolutely impossible.’ ‘You’re prepared to assume that Mr Blount is innocent?’ ‘Hell, I have to. As you say.’ ‘Then someone else is guilty. I begin by eliminating the cook and the steward.’ ‘Good. That simplifies it. Why?’ ‘Look at it. The arsenic was in the chocolate. Therefore if either�’ ‘No. Not known. The only arsenic found was inside Jerin. The pot was full of fresh chocolate, no arsenic, the cup was clean, and no container was found. Not known.’ ‘But it is.’ Usually Wolfe’s tone had a trace of satisfaction when he corrected me, but that time he didn’t bother. ‘After four days of investigation the District Attorney charged Mr Blount with murder. Blount couldn’t possibly have given Jerin arsenic in any medium other than the chocolate. Before arresting him, the possibility that the arsenic had been administered in some other medium had to be eliminated beyond question, and at that sort of inquiry the police are highly competent. Certainly they have established that Jerin didn’t swallow the arsenic before he arrived at the Gambit Club, and at the club he swallowed only the chocolate; otherwise they wouldn’t have charged Blount.’ ‘Check,’ I conceded. ‘The cook and 25 steward?’ ‘This is not conclusive, only strongly probable. There they were in the kitchen, preparing the chocolate. One or both of them knew Mr Jerin, had reason to wish him dead, knew he was coming to the club, and knew the chocolate was for him. Con
fine it to one. He puts arsenic in the chocolate. At the time he does so he doesn’t know that Mr Blount will come for it; he supposes that it will be taken to the library by himself or his colleague. He doesn’t know that later Mr Blount will bring the pot and cup down and rinse them out. He doesn’t know that any club member has an animus toward Mr Jerin�unless you think I should allow that?’ ‘No.’ ‘He doesn’t know if there will be an opportunity for anyone else to put something in the chocolate. He does know that the police will certainly discover his connection, whatever it is, with Jerin. But he puts arsenic in the chocolate?’ ‘No. At least we can save them for the last. Of course the cops have checked on them. With Blount and the cook and steward out, what you have left is the messengers. Unless someone sneaked in uninvited?’ He shook his head. ‘Mr Blount told his daughter only that he thought not, he wasn’t absolutely certain, but his table was near the door to the library. And it would have been 26 foolhardy. Only the messengers were supposed to go in to Mr Jerin, and anyone else entering would have been observed and noted. It would have been rash beyond sanity. I exclude it, tentatively. But there is one other possibility besides the messengers, Mr Jerin himself. He had arsenic in a soluble capsule, put it in his mouth, and washed it down with the chocolate. Shall I deal with that?’ ‘No, thanks. I don’t need help with that one. Deal with the messengers. I grant opportunity. He goes in to report a move, shutting the door. We assume that he shut the door on account of the noise made by the spectators moving around in the big room?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Right. He knows that another messenger may enter at any moment, but he only needs five seconds. The pot is there on the table. Jerin, on the couch, has his eyes closed, concentrating. He has the arsenic ready, say in a paper spill, and in it goes. He wouldn’t have to stir it. Nothing to it. Shall I name him?’ ‘Yes indeed.’ ‘Ernst Hausman, the chess fiend. He had been against inviting Jerin to come, but since he was there, there was his chance at a guy who could give odds of a rook to Blount, who could beat him. He would have liked to poison all the chess masters alive, beginning with the world champion, who I understand is a Russian.’ ‘Botvinnik.’ 27 ‘Not only a lusus naturae, but also a Commie. I know of no case on record where that was the motive, killing a man because he played chess too well, but everything has to have a first. I am not blathering. Hausman may be off the rails.’ Wolfe grunted. ‘Not may be. Is. If he would give a fortune to excel at chess. Then you dismiss the other three.’ ‘I file them. Until I take a look at Hausman. The client says they had never seen Jerin, though they may have heard of him, from her. Of course we might cut a motive to fit the lawyer, Clan Kalmus. He’s not really in love with her mother, he’s in love with her. Being a married man, if he is, he has to hide his passion for a virgin, if she is, so when he’s with the Blounts he ogles the mother as a cover. He has the impression that Sally has fallen for Paul Jerin, which could be true in spite of what she told you, and the thought other holding hands with another man is unbearable, so he buys some arsenic.’ ‘That’s a little farfetched.’ ‘Murder is usually farfetched. Would we settle for making Blount merely an accessory? We have to assume he didn’t commit the murder, sure, but he could have suspected that Hausman or Kalmus had doctored the chocolate, so he took care of the pot and cup.’ ‘No.’ Wolfe shook his head. ‘Our assumption is that Mr Blount is not involved. 28 ^e took the pot and cup, and emptied and cleaned them, because he thought that Jerin’s indisposition might have been caused by something in the chocolate�as indeed it had been. A natural and proper action.’ He closed his eyes, but he didn’t lean back, so he wasn’t thinking, he was merely suffering. His lips twitched. After a dozen or so twitches he opened his eyes and spoke. ‘At least we have a free field. The police and District Attorney have Mr Blount in custody and are committed; they have no interest in our targets except as witnesses, and of course they have signed statements from them. There will be no jostling.’ He looked up at the wall clock. ‘Mr Cohen is in his office?’ ‘Sure.’ ‘See him. Besides the published accounts we have information from only one source, Miss Blount, and we have no knowledge of either her competence or her veracity. Tell Mr Cohen that I have engaged to inquire into certain aspects of this matter, and I need�’ ‘It’ll be tough�I mean for him. He’ll know that can mean only one thing, that you’ve been hired to get Blount out, and you think it can be done or you wouldn’t have taken the job, and to expect him to sit on that�I don’t know.’ ‘I don’t expect him to sit on it.’ ‘He can print it?’ ‘Certainly. As I told Miss Blount, my intervention can’t be kept secret, and the 29 sooner the murderer knows of it the better. He may think it necessary to do something.’ ‘Yeah. Of course if�no. I’ll have to tie a string on my finger to remind me that Blount didn’t do it.’ I got up. ‘If I don’t tell Lon who hired you he’ll assume it was Blount or Kalmus.’ ‘Let him. You can’t prescribe his assumptions.’ ‘I wouldn’t try. Any particular point or points?’ ‘No. All points.’ I went to the hall, got my hat and coat from the rack, let myself out, and nearly got pushed off the stoop by a gust of the icy winter wind. CHAPTER THREE In his own little room on the twentieth floor of the Gazette building, which had LON COHEN on the door but no title, two doors down the hall from the corner office of the publisher, Lon cradled the phone, one of three on his desk, turned to me, and said, ‘You may be in time for the twilight if it’s a quickie. Front page?’ I slumped and crossed my legs, showing that there was plenty of time. I shook my head. ‘Not even the second section. I’m just looking for scraps that may not be fit to print. About Paul 30 Jerin and the Gambit Club.’ ‘You don’t say.’ He ran a palm over his hair, which was almost black and slicked back and up over his sloping dome. I knew that gesture well, but had learned the hard way not to try to interpret it. He was next to the best of the poker players I spent one night a week with, the best being Saul Panzer, whom you will meet later on. He asked, ‘Doing research for a treatise on adult delinquency?’ ‘All I would need for that would be a mirror. Nero Wolfe is inquiring into certain aspects of the matter.’ ‘Well well. Just for curiosity?’ ‘No. He has a client.’ The hell he has. For release when?’ ‘Oh, tomorrow.’ ‘Who’s the client?’ ‘I don’t know. He won’t tell me.’ ‘I’ll bet he won’t.’ Lon leaned forward. ‘Now look, Archie. It’s basic. In a newspaper sentences must always be active, never passive. You can’t say “Mr Kaczynski was bitten by a woman today.” You must say “Miss Mabel Plum bit Mr Kaczynski today.” The leadoff on this must be, “Daniel Kalmus, attorney for Matthew Blount, has engaged Nero Wolfe to get evidence that Blount did not murder Paul Jerin.” Then further along mention the fact that Wolfe is the greatest detective this side of outer space and has never failed to deliver, with ^e invaluable assistance of the incomparable 31 Archie Goodwin. That’s the way to do it.’ I was grinning at him. ‘I like it. Then the next day you could feature Kalmus’s denial.’ ‘Are you saying it’s not Kalmus?’ ‘I’m not saying. What the hell, it’s just as good, even better, leaving it open who hired him, hinting that you know but you’re not telling. Next day they’ll buy a million Gazettes to find out.’ ‘Are you going to fill it in any? Now?’ ‘No. Not a word. Just that he’s been hired and has been paid a retainer.’ ‘Can we say we have it direct from you?’ ‘Sure.’ He turned and got at a phone, the green one. It didn’t take long, since he only had enough for one short paragraph. He hung up and turned to me. ‘Just in time. Now for tomorrow’s follow-up. I don’t expect words and music, but what’s the slant that makes Wolfe think�’ ‘Whoa.’ I showed him a palm. ‘You’ve got the gall of a journalist. It’s my turn. I want everything about everybody that you know or guess but haven’t printed.’ ‘That would take all night. First, off the record, does Wolfe actually expect to spring Blount?’ ‘Off the record, that’s the idea.’ I had my notebook out. ‘Now. Have they found a container with arsenic in it?’ ‘I’ll be damned.’ His head was cocked. ‘Does 32 Volfe know that Blount went down to the kitchen for the chocolate and took it up to Jerin?’ ‘Yes.’ �
�Does he know that after Jerin had drunk most of the chocolate Blount took the cup and pot away and rinsed them out?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Does he know that Blount chased Jerin out of his apartment and told him to stay away from his daughter?’ ‘No. Do you?’ ‘I couldn’t prove it, but the word is that the cops can. And one of our men got it�a good man, Al Proctor�he got it from a friend of Jerin’s. Do you want to talk to Proctor?’ ‘No. What for? That would only help on a motive for Blount, and since Blount’s innocent why waste time on it? Have they�’ ‘I will be damned. My God, Archie this is hot! Come on, give! Off the record until you say the word. Have I ever fudged on you?’ ‘No, and you won’t now. Skip it, Lon. Nothing doing. Have they found a container?’ He reached for a phone, sat a moment with his fingers on it, vetoed it, and settled back. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t think so. If they had I think one of our men would know.’ ‘Did Jerin know or suspect he had been Poisoned?’ ^ don’t know.’ Gazette men must have talked with men 33 who were there.’ ‘Sure, but the last four hours, at the hospital, only doctors and nurses were with him and they don’t talk.’ ‘At the club, Jerin didn’t point to someone and say, “You did this, you bastard”?’ ‘No. If he had, whom should he have pointed to?’ ‘I’ll tell you later. Not today. Who went to the hospital? I know Dr Avery went in the ambulance, and Blount went. Who else?’ ‘Three of the club members. One of them was Kalmus, the lawyer. I can get the names of the other two if you want them.’ ‘Not unless it was Hausman or Yerkes or Farrow.’ ‘It wasn’t.’ ‘Then don’t bother. What’s the talk in the trade? I’ve heard this and that, at the Flamingo and around, but I don’t see much of journalists except you. What are they saying? Have they got angles?’ ‘None that you would like. Of course there were plenty of angles the first few days, but not since they took Blount. Now the big question is did Jerin lay Sally or didn’t he. That wouldn’t interest you.’ ‘Not a particle. Then they all think Blount s wrapped up? No minority opinion?’ ‘None worth mentioning. That’s why this from you, and Wolfe, is a bomb. Now there vitt be angles.’ 34 ‘Fine. So there’s been no interest in anyone else since Blount was charged, but how about before that? The four messengers. Hausman, Yerkes, Farrow, Kalmus. You must have got quite a collection of facts you didn’t print.’ He eyed me exactly the way he eyed me when I took another look at my hole card, lifted one brow, and raised him the limit. ‘I’d give more than a nickel,’ he said, ‘I’d give a shiny new dime, to know which one of them you want to know about. Damn it, we could help. We have our share of beetlebrains, but also there’s a couple of good men. At your service.’ ‘Wonderful,’ I said. ‘Send me their names and phone numbers. Tell them not to call me, I’ll call them. Now tell me about the messengers. Start with Kalmus.’ He told me. Not only what he had in his head; he sent for the files. I filled eight pages of my notebook with the most useless-looking conglomeration of facts you could imagine. Of course you never know; Wolfe had once been able to crack a very hard nut only because Fred Durkin had reported that a certain boy had bought bubble gum at two different places, but there’s no point in bothering to tell you that Yerkes had been a halfback at Yale or that Farrow had a habit of getting bounced out of night clubs. I’ll keep it to a minimum: T^ � toist Hausman, seventy-two, retired but still owner of a half interest in a big Wall Street ^nn, was a widower with no children, no 35 friends (Blount didn’t count?), and no dogs. His obsession with chess was common knowledge. Owned the finest collection of chessmen in the world, some two hundred sets, one of Imperial jade, white and green. Morton Farrow, thirty-one, single, lived at the Blount apartment on Fifth Avenue (not mentioned by Sally). He was an assistant vicepresident of the Blount Textiles Corporation. Had got a ticket for speeding the night of January thirtieth, the night of the affair at the Gambit Club. Charles W. Yerkes, forty-four, senior vicepresident of the Continental Bank and Trust Company, was married and had two children. At the age of twenty-six he had come out eleventh in a field of fourteen in the annual tournament for the United States chess championship, and had entered no tournament since. Daniel Kalmus, fiftyone, prominent corporation lawyer, a partner in the firm of McKinney, Best, Kalmus, and Green, was a widower, with four children, all married. One of the club members had told a Gazette reporter that he had been surprised that Kalmus had been a messenger instead of playing, because he thought that Kalmus, the club’s best player, could have beaten Jerin. And so forth. While I was going through the files Lon made a couple of phone calls and received a couple, but he kept me in a come ^ 36 his eye. Presumably the idea was that ifWoIfe was particularly interested in one of that quartet I might show it by a nicker of the eye or a twist of the lip. Not wanting to disappoint him, I eased a slip of paper out and slipped it up my cuff, and later, when I put the folders back on his desk, he asked, ‘Would you like a copy of the item in your sleeve?’ ‘All right, I tried,’ I said, and fingered it out and forked it over. All it had on it, scribbled in pencil, was 218 11:40 a.m. LC says MJN says too much chess A.R. I said, ‘If LC means Lon Cohen that may settle it.’ ‘Go climb a tree.’ He dropped it in the wastebasket. ‘Anything else?’ ‘A few little details. What’s Sally Blount like?’ ‘I thought Blount was out of it.’ ‘He is, but she may have some facts we need, and it’ll help to know what to expect when I see her. Is she a man-eater?’ ‘No. Of course she’s still an angle with us, and presumably with the cops. With most girls of her age and class you’ll find a little dirt, sometimes a lot, if you dig, but apparently not with her. She seems to be clean, which should be newsworthy but isn’t. We have nothing on her, even with Paul Jerin, and I doubt if the cops have.’ college?’ ^Bennington. Graduated last year.’ ‘How about her mother? Of course she’s not 37 an angle, but she may have some facts too. Know anything about her?’ ‘I sure do. I’ve told my wife that she needn’t wonder what I’ll do if she dies. I’ll get Anna Blount. I don’t know how, but I’ll get her.’ ‘So you know her?’ ‘I’ve never met her, but I’ve seen her a few times, and once is enough. Don’t ask me why. It’s not just looks or the call of the glands. She’s probably a witch and doesn’t know it. If she knew it it would show, and that would spoil it. As you say, she’s not an angle, but, with her husband arrested for murder, she’s news, and it appears that I’m not the only one. She attracts. She pulls.’ ‘And?’ ‘Apparently there is no and. Apparently she’s clean too. It’s hard to believe, but I’d like to believe it. As you know, I’m happily married, and my wife is healthy, and I hope she lives forever, but it’s nice to know that such a one as Anna Blount is around just in case. I can’t understand why I don’t dream about her. What the hell, a man’s dreams are private. If you see her be sure to tell me how you take it.’ ‘Glad to.’ I rose. ‘I’m not thanking you this time because I gave more than I got.’ ‘I want more. Damn it, Archie, just a little something for tomorrow?’ I told him he would get more if and when there was more, got my coat and hat from 1ne other chair, and went. 38 I walked downtown. That would have been ideal for arranging my mind, my legs working, my lungs taking in plenty of good cold air, and a few snow-flakes coming at me and then away from me, if there had been anything in my mind to arrange. Even worse, my mind was refusing to cooperate on the main point. I had bought the assumption that Matthew Blount was innocent, but my mind hadn’t. It kept trying to call my attention to the known facts, which was subversive. Headed south on Sixth Avenue, my watch said 4:30 as I approached Thirty-fifth Street, and instead of turning I continued downtown. Wolfe wouldn’t come down from the plant rooms until six o’clock, and there was no point in going home just to sit at my desk and try to get my mind on something useful when there was nothing useful to get it on. So I kept going, clear to Twelfth Street, turned left, stopped halfway down the long block, and focused on a four-story brick building, painted gray with green trim, across the street. A brass plate to the right of the door, nice and shiny, said GAMBIT CLUB. I crossed the street, entered the vestibule, tried the door, but it was locked, pushed the button, got a click, opened the door, an
d entered. Of course I was just kidding my mind. There wasn’t a chance in a million that I would get ^y new facts for it to switch to, but at least I Gould show it that I was in charge. There was a 39 long rack in the hall, and, as I disposed of my coat and hat, a man appeared in an open doorway on the right and said, ‘Yes, sir?’ It was Bernard Nash, the steward. There had been a picture of him in the Gazette. He was tall and narrow with a long sad face. I said, ‘I’m checking something,’ and made for the doorway, but without giving me room to pass he asked, ‘Are you from the police?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m a gorilla. How often do you have to see a face?’ He would probably have asked to see my buzzer if I hadn’t kept moving, and I brushed against him as I went through. It was the big room. Evidently the chess tables had been specially placed for the affair, for there were now more than a dozen�more like two dozen�and three of them were in use, with a couple of kibitzers at one. Halting only for a quick glance around, I headed for an open door at the rear end, followed by the steward. If Table Six, Blount’s, had been in the row at the left wall, he had been sitting only ten feet from the door to the library. The library was almost small enough to be called cozy, with four leather chairs, each with a reading light and a stand with an ashtray. Book shelves lined two walls and part of a third. In a corner was a chess table with a marble top, with yellow and brown marble for | the squares, and the men spread around, not | on their home squares. The Gazette had said 40 that the men were of ivory and Kokcha lapis lazuli and they and the table had belonged to and been played with by Louis XIV, and that the men were kept in the position after the ninth move of Paul Morphy’s most famous game, his defeat of the Duke ofBrunswick and Count Isouard in Paris in 1858. The couch was backed up to the left wall, but there was no table, just stands at the ends. I looked at Nash. ‘You’ve moved the table.’ ‘Certainly.’ Since I was just a cop, so he thought, no ‘sir’ was required. ‘We were told things could be moved.’ ‘Yeah, the inspector would, with members in the high brackets. If it had been a dump he’d have kept it sealed for a month. Has your watch got a second hand?’ He glanced at his wrist. ‘Yes.’ ‘All right, time me. I’m checking. I’m going down to the kitchen and coming right back. I’ll time it too, but two watches are better than one. When I say “go.”’ I looked at my watch. ‘Go.’ I moved. There were only two doors besides the one we had entered by, and one of them was to the hall, and near the other one, at the far end, was a little door that had to be to an old-fashioned dumb-waiter shaft. Crossing to it�not the dumb-waiter�I opened it and stepped through. There was a small landing and stairs down, narrow and steep. Descending, I was in the kitchen, larger than you would expect, and I 41 nothing old-fashioned about it. Stainless st( l and fluorescent lights. A round little bald guy in a white apron, perched on a stool with a magazine, squinted at me and muttered, ‘My God, another one.’ ‘We keep the best till the last.’ I was brusque. ‘You’re Laghi?’ ‘Call me Tony. Why not?’ ‘I don’t know you well enough.’ I turned and mounted the stairs. In the library, Nash, who apparently hadn’t moved, looked at his wat h and said, ‘One minute and eighteen seconds I nodded. ‘Close enough. You said in yo .r statement that when Blount went down t. e first time to get the chocolate he was in the kitchen about six minutes.’ ‘That’s wrong. I said about three minutes. If you don’t�Oh. You’re trying to�I see. I know what I said in my statement.’ ‘Good. So do I.’ I went to the door to the big room, on through, and to the table where the game had a couple of kibitzers. Neither they nor the players gave me a glance as I arrived. More than half of the men were still on the board. One of Black’s knights was attacked by a pawn, and I raised a brow when he picked up a rook to move it, but then I saw that the white pawn was pinned. Nash’s voice came from behind my shoulder. ‘This man is a police officer, Mr Carruthers.’ No eyes came to me, not an eye. White, evidently Mr Carruthers, said without moving his head, ‘Don’t 42 interrupt, Nash. You know better.’ A fascinating game if it fascinates you. With nothing better to do, I stuck with it for half an hour, deciding for both White and Black what the next move should be, and made a perfect record. Wrong every time. When Black moved a rook to where a knight could take it, but with a discovered check by a bishop which I hadn’t seen, I conceded I would never be a Botvinnik or even a Paul Jerin and went to the hall for my hat and coat. The only words that had passed had been when White had pushed a pawn and Black had murmured, ‘I thought you would,’ and White had murmured, ‘Obvious.’ It was snowing harder, but there were still twenty minutes before six o’clock, so I walked some more. As for my mind, I told it that it now had some new data to work on, since I had shown it the scene of the crime and had even established the vital fact that it took seventyeight seconds to go down to the kitchen and back up, but it wasn’t interested. Around Eighteenth Street I gave up and began to look at people going by. Girls are better looking in snowstorms, especially at night. When I mounted the stoop of the old brownstone and used my key I found that the bolt wasn’t on, so I didn’t have to push the button for Fritz. Shaking the snow off my coat Bnd hat before entering, putting them on the hall rack, and proceeding to the office, the only greeting I got was a sidewise glance. Wolfe was 43 at his desk with his current book, African Genesis, by Robert Ardrey. Crossing to my desk, I sat and picked up the late edition of the Gazette. We have three copies delivered, one for Wolfe, one for Fritz, and one for me. It was on the front page, the first item under LATE BULLETINS. Wolfe must have been on a long paragraph, for a full minute passed before he looked up and spoke. ‘It’s snowing?’ ‘Yes. And blowing some.’ His eyes went back to the book. ‘I hate to interrupt,’ I said, ‘but I might forget to mention it later. I saw Lon Cohen. He got it in today, as you may have noticed.’ ‘I haven’t looked. Did you get anything useful?’ ‘Not useful to me. Possibly to you.’ I got my notebook from my pocket. ‘Doubtful. You have a nose.’ He went back to his book. I gave him time for another paragraph. ‘Also I went and had a look at the Gambit Club.’ No comment. ‘I know,’ I said, ‘that that book is extremely interesting. As you told me at lunch, it tells what happened in Africa a hundred thousand years ago, and I realize that that is more important than what is happening here now. My talk with Lon can wait, and all I did at the Gambit Club, besides taking a look at the 44 couch Jerin sat on, was watch a game of chess, but you told Miss Blount you would let her know who you want to see first. If you expect her to get someone here this evening I ought to phone her now.’ He grunted. ‘It isn’t urgent. It’s snowing.’ ‘Yeah. It may clear up by the time the trial starts. Don’t you think?’ ‘Confound it, don’t badger me!’ So he was phutzing. Since one of my most important functions is needling him when his aversion to work takes control, it was up to me, but the trouble was my mind. Showing it the scene of the crime had accomplished nothing. If I couldn’t sick it onto the job how could I expect to sick him? I got up and went to the kitchen to ask Fritz if there had been any phone calls, though I knew there hadn’t, since there had been no note on my desk. However, there were three calls in the next hour, before dinner, and two during dinner� the Times, the Daily News, and the Post, and two of the networks, CBS and NEC. With all of them I confirmed the item in the Gazette and told them we had nothing to add. The News was sore because I had given it to the Gazette, and of course the Times tried to insist on speaking with Wolfe. When the last trumpet sounds the Times will want to check with Gabriel himself, and for the next edition will try to get it confirmed by even Higher Authority. 45 I had returned to the dining room after dealing with CBS, to deal with my second helping of papaya custard, when the doorbell rang. During meals Fritz answers it. He came from the kitchen, went down the hall to the front, and in a minute came back, entered, and said, ‘Mr Ernst Hausman. He said you would know the name.’ Wolfe looked at me, not as a friend or even a trusted assistant. ‘Archie. This is your doing.5 I swallowed custard. ‘No, sir. Yours. The Gazette. I merely followed instructions. You said the murderer might think it necessary to do something, a
nd here he is.’ ‘Pfui. Through a blizzard?’ He really meant it. On a fine day he would venture out to risk his life in the traffic only on a strictly personal errand, and this was night and snow was falling. ‘He had to,’ I said. ‘With you on it he knew he was done for and he came to confess.’ I pushed my chair back and left it. A man coming without an appointment before we had had our coffee�he was capable of telling Fritz to tell him to come tomorrow morning. ‘Okay, Fritz,’ I said, ‘I’ll do it.’ 46 CHAPTER FOUR We always have our after-dinner coffee in the office, mainly because the chair behind his desk is the only one that Wolfe can get his bulk really comfortable in, and of course the guest had to be invited to partake. He said he’d try it, he was very particular about coffee, and when Fritz put a cup on the stand by the red leather chair and was going to pour he said the cup was too small and told Fritz to bring a larger one. Ideal company. He must have been fun at dinner parties. He didn’t look his seventy-two years, and I had to admit he didn’t look like a murderer, but murderers seldom do. One thing was sure, if he murdered at all he would use poison, because with a gun or knife or club he might get spots on his perfectly tailored three-hundreddollar suit or his sixty-dollar shoes or his twenty-dollar tie, or soil his elegant little hands, or even spatter blood on his neat little face with its carefully barbered mustache. He lifted the larger cup and took a sip. ‘Quite good,’ he conceded. He had a thin finicky voice. He took another sip. ‘Quite good.’ He looked around. ‘Good room. For a man in your line of work quite unexpected. That globe over there�I noticed it when I came in. What’s its diameter? Three feet?’ 47 ‘Thirty-two and three-eighths inches.’ ‘The finest globe I ever saw. I’ll give you a hundred dollars for it.’ ‘I paid five hundred.’ Hausman shook his head and sipped coffee. ‘Not worth it. Do you play chess?’ ‘Not now. I have played.’ ‘How good were you?’ Wolfe put his cup down. ‘Mr Hausman. Surely you didn’t come through a snowstonn at night for this.’ He reached for the pot. ‘Hardly.’ He showed his teeth. It wasn’t a grin; it was simply that his lips suddenly parted enough for his teeth to show and then closed again. ‘But before I go into matters I have to be satisfied about you. I know you have a reputation, but that doesn’t mean anything. How far can you be trusted?’ ‘That depends.’ Wolfe put the pot down. ‘I trust myself implicitly. Anyone else will do well to make certain of our understanding.’ Hausman nodded. ‘That’s always essential. But I mean�uh�suppose I hire you to do a job, how far can I depend on you?’ ‘If I commit myself, to the extent of my abilities. But this is fatuous. Do you hope to determine my quality by asking banal and offensive questions? You must know that a man can have only one invulnerable loyalty, loyalty to his own concept of the obligations of manhood. All other loyalties are merely deputies of that one.’ 48 I ‘Hunh,’ Hausman said. ‘I’d like to play you a game of chess.’ ‘Very well. I have no board or men. Pawn to Queen Four.’ ‘Pawn to Queen Four.’ ‘Pawn to Queen Bishop Four.’ ‘Pawn to King Three.’ ‘Knight to King Bishop Three.’ ‘You mean Queen Bishop Three.’ ‘No. King Bishop Three.’ ‘But the Queen’s Knight is a better move! All the books say so.’ ‘That’s why I didn’t make it. I knew you would expect it and know the best answer to it.’ Hausman’s lips worked a little. Then I can’t go on. Not without a board.’ He picked up his cup, emptied it, and put it down. ‘You’re sharp, aren’t you?’ ‘I prefer “adroit,” but yes.’ ‘I have a job for you.’ He showed his teeth. ‘Who has hired you to work on that�uh� murder at the Gambit Club? Kalmus?’ ‘Ask him.’ ‘I’m asking you.’ ‘Mr Hausman.’ Wolfe was patient. ‘First you inquired about my furniture and my habits, then about my probity, and now about “ly private affairs. Can’t you contrive a question which deserves an answer?’ ‘You won’t tell me who hired you?’ ‘Of course not.’ ‘But someone did?’ 49 ‘Yes.’ ‘Then it must have been Kalmus. Or Anna� Mrs Blount…’ He took a moment to consider it. ‘No. Kalmus. He has had no experience with this kind of thing and no talent for it. I am Matthew Blount’s oldest friend. I knew him as a boy. I am his daughter’s godfather. So I am interested, deeply interested, in his�uh� welfare. And with Kalmus handling this there’s no hope for him, no hope at all. Kalmus has hired you, but you’re under his direction and control, and with him in charge there’s no hope. He has paid you a retainer. How much ?” Wolfe’s shoulders went up an eighth of an inch and down again. He looked at me with his brows raised, saying without words, ‘See what you let in?’ ‘Then you won’t,’ Hausman said. ‘All right, that can wait. I want to hire you to do something that will get results. There will be no conflict of interest because this is in Matthew Blount’s interest too. I’ll pay you myself. I may get it back from Blount later, but that’s no concern of yours. How much do you already know about what happened that night at the Gambit Club?’ ‘Enough, perhaps. If I lack needed information you can probably supply it.’ ‘You know about the chocolate? That the police theory is that Blount poisoned that man by putting arsenic in the chocolate?’ ‘Yes.’ 50 ‘Then all we have to do is to prove that somebody else put arsenic in the chocolate. That would free Blount?’ ‘Yes.’ , Then that’s the thing to do. I thought of this last week, but I knew how Kalmus would react if I went to him with it, and I didn’t want to do it myself because there are certain—uh— difficulties. Then today I saw that item in the paper about you. I asked you how far I can count on you because this has to be absolutely confidential. Would you do something that would free Blount without telling Kalmus, before or after?’ If it were something I had engaged to do, yes.’ ‘And without telling anyone else?’ ‘If I had made the engagement with that condition, yes.’ ‘It will be with that condition.’ Hausman looked at me. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Archie Goodwin.’ ‘Leave the room.’ I put my coffee cup down. I seldom drink three cups, but the situation had got on my nerves hours ago, and that bozo wasn’t helping any. ‘Anything to oblige a client,’ I said, ‘but you’re not a client yet. If I left, I’d have to stand at the peephole to look and listen, and I’d father sit.’ He looked at Wolfe. ‘This is for you only.’ ‘Then it’s not for me. What’s for me is