Bronson, with regret and the expressed intention of repaying
the ten grand at the earliest opportunity, but Bronson had
revealed a nasty streak. He wanted the order filled, or the
cash returned, forthwith; and a complication was that Clyde
had rashly signed a receipt for the money which included
specifications of what Bronson was to get for it. Bronson
threatened to show the receipt to the family connections.
Bad all around. When Clyde decided, as a last resort, on a
trip to Crowfield for an appeal to his father, Bronson’s dis-
trust of him had got so deplorable that he insisted on going
along and he couldn’t be ditched; and Nancy had accom-
panied them for the purpose of helping out with father.
But father had been obdurate, and Monday it was beginning
to look as if Clyde would have to confess all in order to get
the money, which would be worse than bad, when on Pratt’s
terrace luck reared its pretty head again and Clyde made a
bet.
Wolfe got all that out of her, patiently, with various de-
tails and dates, and then observed, having finished the second
bottle of beer, that while it seemed to establish Bronson as
a man of disreputable motives it didn’t seem to include one
for murder.
“I know it,” Nancy said. “I told you he couldn’t have done
it to get the money, because Clyde didn’t have it, and any-
way if he had had it he would have given it to him.”
“Still you say he did it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw Bronson follow Clyde over to Pratt’s place.”
“Indeed. Last night?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about it.”
The bag was open now, and most of the beans gone. She
dumped the rest: “It was around 9 o’clock, maybe a little
later. When I left mother’s room I came downstairs to look
for Clyde, to ask him why he had made the bet with Pratt. I
was afraid he was going to try something wild. I found him
out by the tennis court, talking with Bronson, and they
shut up when they heard me coming. I said I wanted to ask
him something and he came away with me, but he wouldn’t
tell me anything. I told him I was pretty sure I would be able
to get the money through mother, and reminded him that
he had sworn to me he would stop acting like a fool, and said
if he did something eke foolish it might be the finish of him.
I told him things like that. He said that for once I was wrong
and he was right, that what he was doing wasn’t foolish, that
he had turned over a new leaf and was being sensible and
practical and I would agree with him when I found out about
it, but he wouldn’t tell me then. I insisted, but he was always
stubbomer than I was.”
“You got no inkling of what he had in mind.”
Nancy Shook her head. “Not the slightest. He said some-
thing about not interfering with the barbecue.”
“Give me his exact words, if you can.”
“Well, he said, Tm not going to harm anyone, not even
Monte Cristo, except to win his money. I’ll even let him have
his damn pot roast, and he won’t know the difference until
after it’s over, if I can fix it that way.’ That’s about it.”
“Anything else about the barbecue or the bull or anyone
at Mr. Pratt’s place?”
“No, nothing.”
“You left him outdoors?”
“I did then. I came back to the house and ran up to my
room and changed to a dark-colored sweater and skirt. Then
I came down and left by the west wing because the veranda
lights were on in front and I didn’t want to be seen. I
didn’t know whether Clyde intended to go anywhere or do
anything, but I was going to find out. I couldn’t find him.
Beyond the range of the veranda lights it was pitch-dark, but
I made a tour and looked as well as I could, and listened, and
there wasn’t a sign of him. The cars were in the garage, .and
anyway if he had taken a car or one of the farm trucks I
would have heard it. If he was up to anything it could only be
at Pratt’s, so I decided to try that. I went past the kennels
and the grove and through a gate into the meadow, which
was the shortest cut, and across another field to the end
of the row of pines, the windbreak—”
“All this in the dark?” Wolfe demanded.
“Of course. I know every foot of it, this is where I was
born. I can find my way in the dark all right. I was about half-
way along the windbreak when I saw a glimmer of a flash-
light ahead, and I got careless and started to trot, because
I wanted to get closer to find out if it was Clyde, and I
stepped into a hole and tumbled and made a lot of noise.
The flashlight was turned towards me, and Clyde’s voice
called, and I saw it was no use and answered him. He came
back to me, and Bronson was with him, carrying a club, a
length of sapling. Clyde was furious. I demanded to know
what he was going to do, and that made him more furious.
He said … oh, it doesn’t matter what he said. He made me
promise to go back home and go to bed—”
“Again without divulging his campaign.”
“Yes. He wouldn’t tell me. I came back home as I had
promised I would. If only I hadn’t! If only—”
“I doubt if it would have mattered. You have enough dis-
tress, Miss Osgood, without trying to borrow. But you haven’t
told me yet why you think Mr. Bronson murdered your
brother.”
“Why … he was there. He went to Pratt’s with him.
He’s the kind of man who would do anything vile—”
“Nonsense. You had no sleep last night. Your mind isn’t
working even on the lowest level. Do you know when Bron-
son got back here?”
“No. I was on the veranda until Dad came—”
“Then there’s a job for you. You’ll be better doing some-
thing. Find out from the servants if anyone saw him return,
and let me know. It may save some time.” Wolfe pushed his
lips out, and in again. “I should think Mr. Bronson would be
a little apprehensive about your disclosing his presence at
Pratt’s last night. Have you any idea why he isn’t?”
‘Yes I have. He … he spoke to me this morning. He
said he had left Clyde at the end of the windbreak, where the
fence is that bounds our property, and come back here and
sat out by the tennis court and smoked. He said he thought
my father was mistaken, that the bull had killed Clyde, and
that everyone else would think so. He showed me the receipt
Clyde had signed and given him, and said he supposed I
wouldn’t want Clyde’s memory blackened by such a thing
coming out, and that he was willing to give me a chance to
repay him the money before going to my father about it,
provided I would save him the annoyance of being questioned
about last night by forgetting that I had seen him with
Clyde.”
“And even when further developments gave you the
notion that he was the murderer, you decided to withhold
all this to protect your brother’s memory.”
“Yes. And I wish I had stuck to it.” She leaned forward
at Wolfe, and a flush of determination showed faintly on her
cheeks. “You got it out of me,” she said. “But what Clyde
wanted most was that Dad shouldn’t know about it. Does
Dad have to know? Why does he? What good will it do?”
Wolfe grimaced. “Can you pay Bronson the $10,000?”
“Not now. But I’ve been trying to think of a way ever
since Bronson spoke to me this morning … didn’t Clyde
win his bet with Pratt? Surely he won’t have that barbecue
now, will he? Won’t he owe the money?”
“My dear child.” Wolfe opened his eyes at her. “What a
remarkable calculation. Amazing. It deserves to bear fruit,
and we must see what can be done. I underestimated you,
for which I apologize. Also I think you deserve to be hu-
mored. If it is feasible, and it should be, your promise to your
brother shall be kept. I have undertaken a specific com-
mission from your father, to expose the murderer of his son,
and I should think that can be managed without disclosing
his contract with Bronson. That’s a superb idea, to collect
from Pratt to pay Bronson. I like it. By winning his last wager
your brother vindicated, as far as he could, all his previous
sacrifices in the shabby temple of luck. Magnificent and neat