have been gratified at a couple of stammers and a little
hemming and hawing, but as it was he allowed me plenty
of time for preparation.
I grinned at him. “Sure I’ll explain. Last evening at Os-
good’s house I found a wallet on the veranda. I looked in it
for papers to identify the owner, and found it was Bronson’s,
and returned it to him. It never occurred to me to wipe off
my prints.”
“Oh. You had it ready.”
“Had what ready?” I demanded innocently. “The wallet?”
“The explanation.”
“Yeah, I carry a big stock for the country trade.” I com-
pressed my lips at him. “For God’s sake use your bean. If I
had croaked the guy and frisked the wallet, or if I had
found him dead and frisked it, would I have left my.
signature all over it? Do I strike you as being in that category?
Maybe I can offer you a detail though. You say the wallet was
empty. Last night when I found it, and when I returned it
to him, it was bulging with a wad which I estimated roughly
at 2000 bucks.”
At that point Nero Wolfe’s genius went into action. I
say genius not because he concocted the stratagem, for that
was only quick wit, but because he anticipated the need
for it far enough ahead of time to get prepared. I didn’t rec-
ognize it at the moment for what it was; all I saw, without
paying it any attention, was that, apparently bored by a con-
versation he had no part in, he slipped the pistol into his
coat pocket and picked up the sprayer and began fussing with
the nozzle and the pressure handle.
“You advise me to use my bean,” Barrow was saying.
“I’ll try. Did you remove anything from the wallet?”
“Today? I haven’t seen it. I only found it once.”
“Today or any other time. Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you take anything from Bronson at all? His person
or his effects?”
“No.”
“Are you willing to submit to a search?”
My brain didn’t exactly reel, but the wires buzzed. For
half a second five or six alternatives chased each other around
in a battle royal. Meanwhile I was treating Barrow to a grin
to show how serene I was, and also, out of the corner of an
eye, I was perceiving that Nero Wolfe’s right index finger,
resting half concealed by his coat on the pressure lever, was
being wiggled at me. It was a busy moment. Hoping to God
I had interpreted the wiggle correctly, I told Barrow affably,
“Excuse the hesitation, but I’m trying to decide which would
annoy you more, to deny you the courtesy and compel you
to take steps, or let you go ahead and find nothing. Now that
my gun is gone and you can’t disarm me—”
The spray of nicotine and soap, full force under high pres-
sure, hit him smack in the face.
He spluttered and squeaked and jumped aside, blinded.
That was another busy moment. My hand shot into my breast
pocket and out again and without stopping for reflection
slipped my ostrich card case into the side coat pocket of
District Attorney Waddell, who had stepped toward the cap-
tain with an ejaculation. Except for that I didn’t move. Barrow
grabbed for his handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. There
were murmurings from onlookers. Wolfe, offering his own
handkerchief, said gravely:
“A thousand apologies. Captain. My stupid carelessness. It
won’t hurt you, of course, but nevertheless—”
“Shut it or I’ll shut it for you.” There were still pearly
drops on Barrow’s chin and ears, but he had his eyes wiped.
He faced me and demanded savagely, “A goddam slick trick,
huh? Where did you ditch it?”
“Ditch what? You’re crazy.”
“You’re damn right I’m crazy.” He whirled to Waddell:
“What did he do when that fat slob sprayed my eyes shut?”
“Nothing,” said Waddell. “He didn’t do anything. He
stood right here by me. He didn’t move.”
“I can add my assurance,” Wolfe put in. “If he had moved
I would have seen him.”
Waddell glared at him savagely. “You’re so slick you slide,
huh?”
“I have apologized, sir.”
“To hell with you. How’d you like to go along to the
courthouse with us?”
Wolfe shook his head. “You’re in a huff, Captain. I don’t
blame you, but I doubt if it’s actionable. To arrest me for
accidentally spraying you with soap would seem … well,
impulsive—”
Barrow turned his back on him to confront Waddell. “You
say he didn’t move?”
“Goodwin? No.”
“He didn’t hand Wolfe anything?”
“Positively not. He wasn’t within 10 feet of him.”
“He didn’t throw anything?”
“No.”
A dozen or so onlookers had collected, down the aisle
in either direction. Barrow raised his voice at them: “Did any
of you see this man take anything from his pocket and hand it
to the fat man or put it somewhere or throw it? Don’t be afraid
to speak up. I’m Captain Barrow and it’s important.”
There were head shakings and a few muttered negatives.
A woman with a double chin said in a loud voice, “I was
watching you, that spray in your face, it was like a scene in
the movies, but if he’d done any throwing or anything like
that I’m sure I’d have seen him because my eye takes in
everything.”
There were a couple of nervous giggles and Barrow aban-
doned his amateurs. He looked around, and I felt sorry for
him. I still hadn’t moved. There was no place within perhaps
6 feet where I could possibly have hidden anything. In the
direction I faced were pots of orchid plants on the benches;
behind me was the table of dahlia blooms in vases; both were
way beyond my reach. I stood with my arms folded.
Barrow had pretty well regained his handsome and un-
flinching dignity. He composedly wiped with his handkerchief
behind his ears and under his chin and told me: ‘Tm taking
you to the courthouse for questioning in connection with the
murder of Howard Bronson. If you’re still trying to decide how
to annoy me, it’ll take me maybe twenty minutes to get a
legal commitment as a material witness—”
“Permit me,” Wolfe put in, purring. “We surely owe
you some complaisance, .Captain, after this regrettable ac-
cident. I don’t believe I’d insist on a warrant, Archie. We
really should cooperate.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Go. After all, it is a little public here for a privy inter-
view. I may join you later.—In the meantime, Mr. Waddell,
if you can spare a few minutes, I’d like to tell you of a dis-
covery I made last evening, touching both Clyde Osgood and
Mr. Bronson. I questioned Bronson for nearly an hour, and
I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“Well … I was going with Captain Barrow …”
Wolfe shrugged. “Now that Bronson has also been mur-
dered, it is doubly interesting.”
“What about it, Captain?”
“Suit yourself,” Barrow told him. “You’re the district
attorney, you’re in charge. I can handle Goodwin.” He
sounded as if all he required was a red-hot poker and a couple
of thumbscrews. “Shall I go on?”
Waddell nodded. “I’ll be along pretty soon.”
I told Wolfe, “When the young lady comes for the orchids,
tell her I’ve gone to pick huckleberries.”
Walking the length of the main exhibits building to the
exit, and through the crowds beyond the end of the grand-
stand, Barrow kept behind, with his left elbow about 10
inches back of my right one, proving that he had been to
police school. A patrol car, with the top down and a trooper
behind the wheel, was waiting there. I was instructed to get
in with the driver and Barrow climbed in behind. His eyes
weren’t leaving me for a second, and I reflected that his hunch
that I had something I would like to discard had probably
been reinforced by Wolfe’s performance with the sprayer.
In 5 minutes, in spite of the exposition traffic, we were
pulling up at the courthouse. Instead of entering at the front,
as with Osgood when calling on Waddell the day before, we
went around to a side entrance that was on the ground level.
The hall was dark and smelled of disinfectant and stale tobacco
juice. The trooper preceding us turned the knob of a door
marked SHERI F, with one F gone, and I followed him in
with Barrow at my rear. It was a big dingy room with de-
crepit desks and chairs, at one desk in a corner being the only
occupant, a bald-headed gentleman with a red face and gold-
rimmed specs who nodded at us and said nothing.
“We’re going through you,” Barrow announced.
I nodded indifferently and struck a pose. I know that the
whole included all its parts and that that was one of the
parts, and it had been necessary for Wolfe to toss me to the