Some Buried Caesar by Rex Stout

except by her father. Mr. Osgood is difficult. He suspects

you of arranging the meeting between his daughter and Mr.

Pratt’s nephew. God knows why. Watch him when he comes

back in here; he might even leap at you. He agreed to con-

trol himself if I would question you about it.”

“Good. You came to question me. I was wondering what

you came for.”

“For one thing …” He hesitated, which was rare. He went

on, “For one thing, I came to bring that package for you.

The Osgood housekeeper kindly prepared it.”

I looked and saw a four-bushel bundle, wrapped in brown

paper, on a table. “Saws and rope ladders?” I demanded.

He said nothing. I went and tore some of the paper off

and found that it contained a pillow, a pair of blankets, and

sheets. I returned to confront Wolfe.

“So,” I said. “So that’s the way it is. I believe you men-

tioned wits a minute ago?”

He muttered ferociously, “Shut up. It has never happened

before. I have telephoned, I have roared and rushed head-

long, and Mr. Waddell cannot be found. Since I learned

you were detained—he’s deliberately hiding from me, I’m

convinced of it. The judge won’t set bail without the con-

currence of the District Attorney. We don’t want bail any-

way, Pfui! Bail for my confidential assistant! Waiti Wait till

I find him!”

“Uh-huh. You wait at Osgood’s, and I wait in a fetid cell

with a dangerous felon for a mate. By heaven, I will play

spoon-bean with your money. As for the package you kindly

brought, take it back to the housekeeper. God knows how long

I’ll be here, and I don’t want to start in by getting a reputa-

tion as a sissy. I can take it, and it looks like I’m going to.”

“You spoke of money. That was my second reason for

coming.”

“I know, you never carry any. How much do you want?”

“Well … twenty dollars. I want to assure you, Archie—”

“Don’t bother.” I got out the expense wallet and handed

him a bill. “I can assure you that I shall come out of here

with bugs—”

“Once when I was working for the Austrian government I

was thrown into jail in Bulgaria—”

I strode to the door and pulled it open and bellowed into

the hall: “Oh, warden! I’m escaping!”

He appeared from somewhere in a lumbering trot, stum-

bling. Behind him came Osgood, looking startled. From the

other direction came the sound of a gallop, and that proved

to be the keeper, with a revolver in his hand. I grinned at

them: “April fool. Show me to my room. I’m sleepy. It’s the

country air.”

Osgood rumbled, “Clown.” The warden looked relieved.

I tossed a cheery good night to Wolfe over my shoulder, and

started off down the hall with the keeper trailing me.

Basil was seated on his cot brushing his hair. He asked me

what the yelling had been for and I told him I had had a

fit. I asked him what time the lights went out and he told

me 9 o’clock, so I proceeded to get my bed made. Having had

the forethought to order 5 copies of the newspaper, there

was more than enough to cover the cot entirely with a double

thickness. Basil suspended the brushing momentarily to watch

me arranging it with ample laps, and when I was nearly

through he observed that it would rustle so much that I

wouldn’t be able to sleep and neither would he. I replied

that when I once got set I was as dead as a log, and he re-

marked in a sinister tone that it might not turn out that way

in my present quarters. I finished the job anyhow. Down the

line somewhere two voices were raised in an argument as

to whether February 22nd was a national holiday, and others

joined in.

It was approaching 9 o’clock when the key was turned in

our lock again and the keeper appeared in the door and told

me I was wanted.

“Gripes,” Basil said, “we’ll have to install a telephone.”

It couldn’t be Wolfe, I thought. There was no one else it

could be except Waddell or Barrow, and there wasn’t a

chance of getting put on the sidewalk by them, and if they

wanted to harry me they could damn well wait until morning,

I decided to be contrary.

“Whoever it is, tell him I’ve gone to bed.”

Even in the dim light, I seemed to perceive that the keeper

looked disappointed. He asked, “Don’t you want to see her?”

“Her?”

“It’s your sister.”

“Oh. I’ll be derned. My dear sister.”

My tone must have been good, for there was no audible

derision as for the second time I preceded the keeper along

the corridor. I went for two reasons, the first being curiosity.

It might conceivable be Nancy or Caroline, but my guess

was Lily, and the only way of finding out was to go and see.

Second, I felt I should cooperate. 9 o’clock at night was no

visiting time at a jail, and if it was Lily she must have been

liberal in her negotiations with the warden, and I hated to

see money wasted. It was the first time I could remember

that anyone had paid cash to have a look at me, and I thought

it was touching. So I trotted along.

It was Lily. The warden was at his desk, and stayed there,

and the keeper closed the door and stood in front of it Lily

was in a chair in a dark comer, and I crossed to her.

“Hello, sis.” I sat down.

“You know,” she said, “I was wondering last night what

would be the best thing to do with you, but it never occurred

to me to lock you up. When you get out of here I’ll try it.

When will that be, by the way?”

“No telling. In time to spend Christmas at home, I hope.

How are dad and ma and Oscar and Violet and Arthur—”

“Fine. Is it cosy?”

“Marvelous.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“Plenty. There’s a caterer.”

“Have you got money?”

“Sure, how much do you want?”

She shook her head. “No, really. I’m flush.” She opened

her bag.

I reached and shut it. “No, you don’t. Jimmy Pratt gave

me 10 dollars today and that’s partly why I’m here. Money

is the root of all evil. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Why, Escamillo. I came to see you.”

“I’m aware of that. Did you bring any bedding?”

“No, but I can get some. Do you want some?”

“No, thanks. I was just curious. I have plenty of newspaper.

But would you like to do me a favor?”

“I won’t sleep if I can’t do you a favor.”

“Will you be up at midnight?”

“I can stay up.”

“Do so. At midnight get Osgood’s on the phone and ask

to speak to Mr. Nero Wolfe. Tell him you’re Mrs. Titus Good-

win and that you are at the Crowfield Hotel, having just come

in an airplane from Cleveland, Ohio. Tell him that you got a

telegram from your son Archie saying that he is in jail,

stranded and abandoned and in despair. Tell him you want

to know what the hell he had me put in jail for and you’ll

have the law on him, and you’ll expect to see him first thing

in the morning and he must be prepared to rectify his ghastly

mistake without delay. And atone for it. Tell him he’ll have

to atone for it.” I considered. “I guess that will do.”

She nodded. “I’ve got it. Is any of it straight?”

“No, it’s firecrackers.”

“Then why don’t I rout him out tonight? Make him come

to the hotel right away and look for me. I mean at mid-

night.”

“My God, no. He’d kill me. That will be sufficient. You

follow instructions.”

“I will. Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Kiss me.”

“I can’t until I wash my face. Anyway, I told you that

wasn’t a precedent. I have to be careful. I kissed a girl once

in the subway and when she came to she was on top of the

Empire State Building. She had floated out through a grating

and right on up.”

“Goodness. Did you ever send one clear to heaven?”

“The place is full of them.”

“When are you going to get out of here?”

“I don’t know. You might ask Wolfe on the phone tonight.”

“Well.” She looked at me, and I was reminded how she

had peeled me like a potato in the Methodist tent. “What I

really came for. ‘Any bail, any amount, I could have it ar-

ranged for by 11 o’clock in the morning. Shall I?”

“I might come high.”

“I said any amount.”

“I wouldn’t bother. It would make Wolfe jealous. Thanks

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *