“All the same,” Wolfe persisted, “there are the other egos and other viewpoints. I accept the validity of yours, but theirs cannot be brushed aside. Each of you has made a huge investment of time and energy and ingenuity. How much time have you spent on it since the beginning?”
“I don’t know. Hundreds and hundreds of hours.”
“The rules didn’t forbid help. Have you had any?”
“No. A friend of mine with a large library let me use it nights and early mornings before I went to work, but she didn’t help. I’m very expert at researching. When they gave me five to do in one week, to break the tie—that was on March twenty-eighth—I took a week off without pay.”
Wolfe nodded. “And of course the others made similar sacrifices and endured similar strains. Look at them now. They are detained here willy-nilly, far from their base of operations, by no fault of their own—except possibly for one of them, but that’s moot. Whereas you’re at home and can proceed as usual. You have an overwhelming advantage and it is fortuitous. Can you pursue it without a qualm? Can you justify it?”
“I don’t have to justify it. We made an agreement and I’m not breaking it. And I can’t proceed as usual—if I could I’d be at the library now, working. I’ve got another week off, but I had to spend today with the police and the conference at the office and now here with you. I’ll work tonight, but I don’t know what tomorrow will be like.”
“Would you accept an invitation to meet with the others and discuss a new arrangement?”
“I would not. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“You are admirably single-minded, Miss Tescher.” Wolfe leaned back with his elbows on the chair arms and matched his finger tips. “I must tell you about Miss Frazee-she is in a situation comparable to yours. Her home is in Los Angeles, where three hundred of her friends, fellow members of a league of which she is president, have worked with her on the contest throughout. It is presumed, though not established, that she has telephoned them the verses that were distributed last evening, and that they are busy with them. A situation comparable to yours, though by no means identical. Have you any comment?”
She was staring at him, speechless. “Because,” Wolfe went on, “while there may be no infraction of the rules or the agreement, it is surely an unfair advantage—even against you, since you have already lost a day and there’s no telling how much you’ll be harassed the rest of the week; but Miss Frazee’s friends can proceed unhampered. Don’t you think that’s worth discussing?”
From the look on Susan’s face she would have liked to discuss it with Miss Frazee herself, with fingernails and teeth at ten inches. Before she found any words Knudsen arose, crooked his finger at the other two men and at Susan, and headed for the door. They all got up and followed. Wolfe sat and gazed at their receding backs. Not knowing whether they were adjourning or only taking a recess, I sat pat until I saw that Schultz, out last, was shutting the door to the hall, then I thought I’d better investigate, put down my notebook, went to the door and opened it, and crossed the sill. The quartet was in a close huddle over by the big walnut rack. “Need any help?” I asked brightly. “No,” Susan said. “We’re conferring.”
I re-entered the office, closed the door, and told Wolfe, “They’re in conference. If I go in the front room and put my ear to the keyhole of the door to the hall I can catch it. After all, it’s your house.”
Pfui,” he said, and shut his eyes. I treated myself to a good yawn and stretch, and looked at my wrist. Twenty to seven.
For the second time that day we had a king-size wait. At six-forty-five I turned on the radio to see how the Giants had made out with the Phillies, and got no glow out of that. I would have gone to the kitchen for a glass of milk, since dinner would be late, but the only route was through the rear of the hall, and I didn’t want to disturb the conference. At six-fifty-five I reminded Wolfe that Harold Rollins was due in five minutes, and he only nodded without opening his eyes. At seven-two the doorbell rang, and I went.
Still in a huddle at the rack, they broke off as I appeared and gave me their faces. Out on the stoop was a lone male. I went on by the huddle, opened the door, and said, “Mr. Rollins? Come in.”
My own idea would have been to put him in the front room until the conference was over and we had got the score, but if Wolfe had wanted that he would have said so, and I’m perfectly willing to let him have things his way unless his ego is jostling mine. So I took Rollins’ hat and coat and ushered him along to the office. I was inside too and was shutting the door when Susan’s voice came. “Mr. Goodwin!”
I pulled the door to with me on the hall side. As I approached she asked, “Wasn’t that one of them? The one named Rollins?”
“Right. Harold Rollins, Burlington, Iowa, professor of history at Bemis College.”
She looked at her pals. Their heads all moved, an inch to the left and back again. She looked at me. “Mr. Wolfe asked me if I had any comment about what he told me about Miss Frazee. He asked me if I thought it was worth discussing. I have no comment now, but I will have. It’s absolutely outrageous to expect—”
A quick tug at her sleeve by Knudsen stopped her. She shot him a glance and then pushed her head forward at me. “No comment!” she shrilled, and turned to reach to the rack for her coat. The men simultaneously reached for theirs.
“If you gentlemen don’t mind,” I said, perfectly friendly, “my grandmother out in Ohio used to ask me if the cat had my tongue. I’ve always wondered about it. Was it a cat in your case?”
No soap. Not a peep. I gave up and opened the door to let them out.
Chapter 8
Back in the office, I attended to the lights before going to my desk. There are eight different lights-one in the ceiling above a big bowl of banded Oriental alabaster, which is on the wall switch, one on the wall behind Wolfe’s chair, one on his desk, one on my desk, one flooding the big globe, and three for the book shelves. The one on Wolfe’s desk is strictly for business, like crossword puzzles. The one on the wall behind him is for reading. He likes all the others turned on, and after making the rounds I sat, picked up my notebook, and gave Harold Rollins a look.
“They have gone?” Wolfe asked
“Yes, sir. No comment.”
Rollins was comfortable in the red leather chair, right at home, though one about half the size would have been better for him. He hadn’t shrunk from underfeeding like Carol Wheelock; he looked healthy enough, what there was of him. Nor was there much to his face except a wide flexible mouth and glasses in thick black frames. You didn’t see his nose and chin at all unless you concentrated.
It’s hard to tell with glasses like those, but apparently he was returning my regard. “Your name’s Goodwin, isn’t it?” he asked.
I admitted it.
“Then it was you who sicked that man Younger on me. You don’t expect me to be grateful, do you? I’m not.” He switched to Wolfe. “We might as well start right. I made this appointment, and kept it, only to pass the time. I’m in this grotesque imbroglio, with no discoverable chance of emerging with honor and dignity, so why miss an opportunity of meeting an eminent bloodhound?” He smiled and shook his head. “No offense intended. I am hardly in a position to offend anybody. What are we going to talk about?”
Wolfe was contemplating him. “I suggest, Mr. Rollins, that your despair is excessive. My client is the firm of Lippert, Buff and Assa, but in many respects your interest runs with theirs, and their honor and dignity are involved with yours. Both may be salvaged; and in addition, you may get a substantial amount of money. You didn’t like what Mr. Younger proposed?”
He was still smiling. “Of course I know I should make allowances.”
“For Mr. Younger?”
“For all of you. Your frame of reference is utterly different from mine, in fact to me it seems quite contemptible, but it was my own thoughtlessness that got me entangled in it. I dug my own grave, that’s true; but, realizing and confessing it, I may still resent the slime and the worms. Can you get me back my job?”