… and fine of you, very fine, to perceive the necessity of
completing the gesture for him … I assure you I’ll do
all I can—”
He broke off and glanced at me because a knock sounded
at the door. I lifted from my chair and started across, but
it opened before I got there and two men entered. I halted,
slightly popeyed, when I saw it was Tom Pratt himself and
McMillan. Behind them, catching up with them, hustled a
middle-aged woman in a black dress, looking indignant, call-
ing to them something about Mr. Osgood not being in there,
they should wait for him in the hall… .
Then affairs began to get simultaneous and confused.
I caught a glimpse of Mr. Howard Bronson standing at one
of the French windows, looking in, and saw that Wolfe had
spotted him too. At the same time a purposeful tread sounded
from the hall, and then Mr. Frederick Osgood was among
us, wearing a scowl that beat all his previous records. He
– directed it at Pratt, ignoring inessentials. He stood solid and
enraged three feet in front of him, glaring at him, and spoke
like an irate duke:
“Out!”
McMillan started to say something, but Osgood exploded
at him: “Damn you, Monte, did you bring this man here?
Get him away at oncel I don’t want his foot on my place—”
“Now wait a second, Fred.” McMillan sounded as if he
wasn’t brooking anything much either. “Just a second and
give us a chance. I didn’t bring him; no, but we came.
There’s hell to pay around here, and Pratt doesn’t like it
any better than you do, and neither do I. Waddell, and Sam
Lake with a bunch of deputies, and a herd of state police,
are tearing things apart over there, and if there’s anything
to be found we hope they find it. At least I do; Pratt can do
his own talking. But in my opinion there’s going to have to
be some talking. Not-only on account of Clyde, but on ac-
count of what happened an hour ago.”
McMillan paused, returning Osgood’s gaze, and then said
heavily, “Caesar’s dead. My bull Caesar.”
Pratt growled, “My bull.”
“Okay, Pratt, your bull.” McMillan didn’t look at him.
“But he’s dead. I bred him and he was mine. Now he’s lying
there on the ground dead.”
OSGOOD’S scowl had got adulterated by a touch
of bewilderment. But he exploded again: “What
the devil do I care about your bull?” He transferred to
Pratt: “You get out of here. Get!”
He was turned, and so were the others, by Wolfe’s voice
booming across the room. “Mr. Osgood! Please!”
Wolfe had left the comfortable chair and was approach-
ing. I saw by the look on his face, knowing it as I did, that
something had jolted and irritated him almost to the limit,
and wondered what it could be. He joined the circle. “How
do you do, gentlemen. Mr. Pratt, it is a poor return for your
hospitality if I’ve offended you by renting my services to
Mr. Osgood, and I hope you don’t feel that way about it.
Mr. Osgood, this is your house, but however you may resent
Mr. Pratt’s entering it, surely you can bottle your hostility
for the present crisis. I assure you it’s highly desirable. He
seems to have brought vital news, with Mr. McMillan—”
Osgood, glaring at Pratt, rumbled, “You dirty abominable
mud lark!”
Pratt, returning the glare, growled, “You goddam stuffed
shirt!”
Fair enough, I thought, for a duke and a millionaire.
Wolfe said, “Pfui. What if you are both right? -Mr. McMillan,
please. What’s this about the bull?”
“He’s dead.”
“What killed him?”
“Anthrax.”
“Indeed. That’s a disease, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s sudden and terrible death. Technically it’s a
disease, of course, but it’s so swift and deadly that it’s
more like a snake or a stroke of lightning.” The stockman
snapped his fingers. “Like that.”
Wolfe nodded. “I knew of it, vaguely, in my boyhood in
Europe. But wasn’t Caesar healthy this morning? When did
you observe symptoms?”
“With anthrax you don’t observe symptoms. Not often. You
go to the pasture in the morning and find dead cattle. That’s
what happened at my place a month ago. It’s what happened
with Caesar at 5 o’clock this afternoon. One of Sam Lake’s
deputies went down to the far end of the pasture, where
I had him tied behind a clump of birch, and found him
keeled over dead. I had gone to Crowfield to see Lew Bennett.
They phoned me and I came back out, and Pratt and I decided
to come over here.”
Osgood’s scowl had got adulterated some more. I didn’t
know then that the sound of the word “anthrax,” with the
news that it had struck within a mile of his own herd, was
enough to adulterate any man’s scowl, no matter what had
happened to him. Wolfe turned and said brusquely:
“Mr. Pratt. I’d like to buy the bull’s carcass. What will
you take for it?”
I stared at him, wondering if whatever had jolted him
had thrown him off balance. Pratt stared too.
Osgood blurted, “You can’t buy an anthrax carcass. The
state takes it.”
Pratt demanded, “What in the name of God do you want
it for?”
McMillan said sourly, “They’re already there. A member of
the State Board was at Crowfield, and he got there as soon
as I did, with a dozen men. Why, what did you expect to
do with it?”
Wolfe sighed. “I suppose Mr. Waddell has told you of
my demonstration of the fact that Clyde Osgood wasn’t
killed by the bull. The absence of blood on his face. I wanted
the hide. Juries like visual evidence. What is the member of
die State Board doing with his men? Carting it away?”
“No. You don’t cart it away. You don’t want the hide
either. You don’t touch it, because it’s dangerous. You don’t
bury it, because the spores live in the soil for years. You
don’t even go close to it. What the state men are doing is
collecting wood to pile it around the carcass for a fire.” Mc-
Millan slowly shook his head. “He’ll bum all night, Caesar
will.”
“How did he get it? I understand you delivered him to
Mr. Pratt last Friday. Did he bring it with him from your
place?”
“He couldn’t have. It doesn’t wait that long to kill. The
question of how he got it … that’s one thing we came over
here to discuss.” McMillan faced Osgood. He hesitated a
second and said, “Look here, Fred, say we sit down. I’m
about played out. We want to ask you something.”
Osgood said curtly, “Come to the veranda.”
I controlled a grin. By gum, he wasn’t going to have a mud
lark sitting within his walls. They all moved, Wolfe followed,
and I brought up the rear, after a glance to see that Nancy
was just getting up from her chair and Bronson was no
longer visible through the French window. I requested her not
to forget to ask the servants what Wolfe had told her, and
she nodded,
When I got to the veranda they were seated in a group
in the wicker chairs and McMillan was telling Osgood, “We
all want it cleared up and that’s why Pratt and I came over
here. Waddell will be along pretty soon. Someone had an idea,
it doesn’t matter who, after Caesar was found dead, and we
thought it was only fair to tell you about it before it is
followed up. If you want to know why I came to tell you …
I came because everybody else was afraid to. It’s Wad-
dell’s job, or Sam Lake’s, not mine, and it will be up to
them to investigate it if they decide to, but they asked me
to come and discuss it with you first. Pratt offered to come,
but we knew how far that would get and it might even lead to
some more violence of which we’ve had plenty, so I came,
and he came along with what I would call good intentions
… he can tell you—”
Pratt began, “The fact is, Fred—”
“My name’s Osgood, damn you!”
“All right. Take your name and stick it up your chimney
and go to hell.”
Osgood ignored him and demanded, “What do you want
to discuss, Monte?”
“About Clyde,” McMillan said. “You’re going to be sore .
naturally, but it won’t help any to fly off the handle. The fact
is that Clyde was in that pasture. What for? Waddell and
Sam Lake, and Captain Barrow of the state police, admit
that Nero Wolfe’s reconstruction of it is possible, but it’s
hard to believe, and one reason it’s hard is that if somebody
did all that, who was it? That’s Chiefly what has them
stumped.”
“Not unique,” murmured Wolfe.
“Do you claim the bull killed him?” Osgood demanded.