“Let’s don’t touch that,” I suggested, and bent over to inspect it. At its middle it was about a quarter of an inch thick. At one end it had three claws, or fingers, and at the other it tapered to a single point, sharp as an ice pick. I straightened up with a nod.
“Uh-huh, I thought so.”
“What the devil is it?”
“My God, look at it! It’s the col de mort!”
“Confound you, Archie –”
“Okay, but let it alone.” I told him about the disappearance of the curio from Miltan’s cabinet and the history of it. He listened with his lips compressed.
When I was through he demanded, “And you think this was used –”
“I know damn well it was. The end of the épée that killed Ludlow was blunt, and Miltan said it couldn’t possibly have been thrust through him that way. So this thing was removed afterwards. It looks as if it would slide right off. I doubt if I need to point out those stains on the glove where this was wrapped up in it.”
“Thank you. I can see.”
“And you can also see that it is a woman’s glove. It looks big on account of the way it’s made, but it’s not big enough –”
“I can see that too.”
“And you can see that if I had stayed there and that contraption had been found in my pocket, or if I had tried to hide it –”
I stopped because his lips were working and he had shut his eyes. It didn’t take long, maybe thirty seconds, then he reached for the button and pushed it. When Fritz appeared he was in a cap and apron similar to those worn by the man in the court who hadn’t seen my wife’s cat.
“Turn out the light in the hall and do not answer the door,” Wolfe told him.
“Yes, sir.”
“If the phone rings, answer it in the kitchen. Archie is not here and you don’t know where he is or when he will return. I am engaged and cannot be disturbed. Draw the heavy curtains in the front and the dining room, but first – is there a full loaf of the Italian round?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bring it, please, with a small knife and a roll of waxed paper.”
When Fritz left I followed him, to hang my coat in the hall and shoot the bolt on the front door. As I returned I flipped the light switch, and in a moment Fritz returned with the required articles on a tray.
Wolfe told him to stand by and then attacked the loaf of bread with the knife, which of course was like a razor, as Fritz’s knives always were. He described a circle four inches in diameter in the center of the loaf, and then dug in, excavating a neat round hole clear to the bottom crust but leaving the crust intact. Next he picked up the col de mort with the tips of his fingers, placed it on the palm of the glove, rolled the glove up tight, wrapped it in some waxed paper, and stuffed it into the hole in the loaf. He filled the extra space with wads of paper, and spread a sheet of paper smoothly over the top. With his swift and dexterous fingers, the entire operation consumed not over three minutes.
He told Fritz, “Make a chocolate icing, at once, and cover this well. Put it in the refrigerator. Dispose of the bread scraps.”
“Yes, sir.” Fritz picked up the tray and departed.
I said sarcastically, “Bravo. It’s wonderful how your mind works. If that had been me I would just have gone up and chucked it in my bureau drawer. Of course it’s more picturesque to disguise it as a cake, but it’s an awful waste of chocolate, and who do you think is going to come looking for it? Do you think I’d have brought it here if anyone had any suspicion that I had it?”
“I don’t know. But someone knows that you had it and that you brought it away – the person who put it there. Who had an opportunity to do that?”
“Everybody. They were all there in the office. While I was on guard at the street door.”
“When you removed the coat from the rack and started off with it, were you looking at people’s faces?”
“No, I was being nonchalant. There were two cops there and I had to get out of the room with it.”
“You say Miss Tormic was supposed to be fencing with Mr. Ludlow. Why supposed? Isn’t it known whether she was or not?”
“It may be known, but not by me. I was down in the office with Mr. and Mrs. Miltan when the porter found the body and started a squawk. After that I had no chance to talk with Miss Tormic or anybody else.”
The telephone rang. I plugged in the kitchen extension and we heard, faintly, Fritz’s voice taking the call.
Wolfe leaned back and sighed. “Very well,” he muttered. “Tell me about it. From the moment you got there until you left. No omissions.”
I did so.
Chapter 5
At a quarter to ten we finally left the dining table, returned to the office, switched on the lights, and sat down to wait. Various developments had occurred. The doorbell had rung three times, unheeded, and the phone somewhat oftener. At the finish of the salad I had left Wolfe alone with the green tomato pie and gone to the darkened front room for a peek around the window curtain. Two men in plain clothes were on the sidewalk, standing there with their hands in their pockets looking chilly and frustrated. I gave them a Bronx cheer and went to the kitchen and used the phone. Johnny Keems and Orrie Cather were out, and I left a message for them to call the office. I got Fred Durkin and Saul Panzer and told them I was just making contact and they were to await possible orders, and informed Saul about the envelope he would receive in the morning mail. I took it for granted that the number which had been jotted on his memo pad by Fritz, who had been answering the phone as instructed, was the number of the Miltan studio, but I verified it anyway by looking in the book, and told Fritz to call it and convey the message that Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Goodwin were now both at home and at leisure. Then I went back to the dining room and joined Wolfe at coffee.
Our wait, after we returned to the office, was a short one. We hadn’t been there more than five minutes when the doorbell called me to the front. As I opened the door I was expecting a brace of sergeants at the most, and was really surprised when I saw a single familiar figure confronting me, with a felt hat cocked over one of the half-buried irate eyes and an unlit cigar tilted up from a corner of the wide determined mouth.
“Honored,” I declared, standing aside to give him passage. “Deeply honored.”
“Go to hell,” Inspector Cramer growled, entering. I shut the door and took his hat and coat and disposed of them, and followed him into the office.
Wolfe offered a hand, greeted him nicely, and said this was a pleasure he hadn’t had for some months.
“Yeah. Quite a pleasure.” Cramer sat down, took the cigar from his mouth, scowled at me, replaced the cigar at a better angle, and spoke.
“Where you been, Goodwin?” He was practically snarling. Before I could reply he went on, “Forget it. If I already knew you’d tell me and if I didn’t you wouldn’t.” He removed the cigar again and leaned at me. “You’re the most damn contrary pest within my knowledge. Twenty times I’ve had you under my feet when I was busy and had no use for you. Now I go to look at a murder and I am told that an important witness has calmly took his hat and coat and departed, and by God, it turns out to be you! The one time you’re supposed to be there you’re not! I’ve told you before that I’d throw you in the jug for a nickel. This time I’d do it for nothing!”
I inquired, “Did you find Arthur?”
“We found – none of your damn business what we found. What did you run away for?”
“Because I wanted to.” I requisitioned a friendly grin for him. “Look, Inspector, you know perfectly well you’re just being rhetorical. I ran away to keep from losing my job. Mr. Wolfe had sent me there on an errand with instructions to report back when the errand was finished. It was finished, and as you know, Mr. Wolfe doesn’t take an excuse. By the way, I left my car there, parked on 48th –”