The room at the other end of the anteroom wasn’t much more than a cubbyhole, with one window, a couple of small wooden tables, and four wooden chairs. The sad woman in the anteroom came in and turned on the light and went out again and closed the door. Wolfe scowled at the skimpy chairs and darted a glance at me, but I ignored it because I was in no mood to lug in the comfortable seat he had left in the other room. He compressed his lips and sat down, taking care to center himself on what seat there was.
“Sit down, Mr. Hewitt,” he invited.
Hewitt stood. “This is an odd performance.” He looked at me and back at Wolfe. “What you can possibly have to say to me so confidential as to require-”
“I have,” Wolfe said brusquely. “I assure you.”
“About orchids? That seems hardly-”
“Not orchids. Murder. I know who shot that man.”
Hewitt’s eyes opened wide. “You know who shot him?”
“I do.”
“But my dear Mr. Wolfe.” Hewitt was displeased but courteous. “That is scarcely a matter to discuss confidentially with me. The proper authorities-”
“I prefer to discuss it with you first. I suggest that we keep our voices as low as possible. It’s quite possible that a policeman has his ear at the door-”
“Bosh! This melodramatic-”
“Please, Mr. Hewitt. Don’t sneer at melodrama; that’s only a point of view. I wish to give you a fresh point of view on the death of Harry Gould. The shot was fired by my assistant, Mr. Goodwin. -Please let me finish. First to establish the fact. Archie?”
I had sat down. The fat bum had taken my dagger away from me. I looked at him and said bitterly, “What if I let you down?”
“You won’t. Anyway, you can’t. I saw the piece of string you brushed off of it. And I wish to say that your performance this afternoon has been satisfactory. Completely satisfactory throughout. Was there a tug when you picked it up? That’s the only detail I lack.”
“What the devil is all this?” Hewitt demanded without courtesy. “If you actually-”
“Please, Mr. Hewitt. And keep your voice down. I’ll state the situation as briefly as possible. Should I report it to Mr. Cramer-”
“There was a tug,” I said. “A little jerk. I didn’t especially notice it at the time because I was sore as hell.”
Wolfe nodded. “I know you were. My report to Mr. Cramer would be this: that Lewis Hewitt said he had lost his cane. A little later, in the corridor on the third floor, we saw the cane lying on the floor with its crook against the crack under the door leading to the Rucker and Dill exhibit. That was at twenty minutes past four. Mr. Goodwin picked up the cane, and as he did so felt a tug. He calls it a little jerk, but he is exceptionally strong and was in a savage emotional state. Looped on the crook of the cane was a piece of green string which he brushed off before he handed it to its owner.”
“I saw no string,” Hewitt snapped.
“Maybe not,” Wolfe admitted. “People who inherit wealth don’t have to bother to see things. But certainly Mr. Goodwin saw it, and so did I, and he felt the tug. The tug was unquestionably the pulling of the trigger and the breaking of the string. That would be my report to Mr. Cramer, since those are the facts.”
“I tell you I saw no string!”
“But we did. Keep your voice down, Mr. Hewitt. And Mr. Goodwin touched it. Surely you don’t suppose we cooked this up?”
“I don’t-” Hewitt looked at the door, and then at me, and then back at Wolfe. “No. I don’t suppose you did. But it’s inconceivable-” He stopped and stared. “What’s that?”
“The piece of string,” Wolfe said.
The son of a gun had pulled it out of his vest pocket. I got up for a look, and it was it. I said, “Good here,” and sat down. Hewitt sat down too. He looked as if he had to do something and that was all he could think of.
“You and Mr. Dill and Mr. Goodwin left me there,” Wolfe said. “Standing there alone. He left those plants there on the floor-and by the way, I have better hassellis than those, much better, my own growing. At a certain point my head began to work, which was remarkable under the circumstances. I don’t say that I foresaw this moment precisely, but I saw enough to impel me to go to the corridor and find this piece of string on the floor and pick it up. It is indubitably the piece that was looped on the crook of your cane. By comparing it with the piece left attached to the trigger, Mr. Cramer can establish our surmise as a certainty. That is, he can if I let him have it. Do you think I should do that?”
“Good heavens,” Hewitt muttered. “My stick. Good heavens, do you realize-my stick!”
“Exactly,” Wolfe agreed. “Don’t talk so loud. I do realize. Whoever rigged up that affair made a loop at the end of the string that could be passed under the door. It may have been an afterthought, ad libbing, suggested by the sight of your cane where you had left it, to pass the loop over the cane and leave it lying there for the first passer-by to pick up. If that hadn’t happened before half past four I imagine he would have attended to it himself. I do realize what a story that will be for the newspapers. I doubt if it would lead to any official suspicion that you rigged it up yourself, but the public mind-at least some of it-is even less subtle than Mr. Crammer’s.”
“Good heavens,” Hewitt moaned. “This . . .” He clenched his fingers, and released them, and clenched them again. “This is horrible.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say horrible. Disagreeable.”
“Horrible. For me. For a Hewitt. Horrible!”
“Perhaps for a Hewitt,” Wolfe conceded. “Then all the more reason why this may interest you. I want those orchid plants. All three of them.”
That changed things entirely. The change, showing itself on Hewitt’s face, took perhaps two seconds all told. Up to then nothing had been threatened but his peace of mind or maybe his reputation, at most his life and liberty. But this was something else again; this threatened his property. It put stone in his heart and steel in his jaw. He eyed Wolfe with a shrewd and stubborn stare.
“I see,” he hissed. “So that’s it. To put it plainly, blackmail. Blackmail! No! I won’t do it!”
Wolfe sighed. “You won’t?”
“No!”
“Very well. Then I won’t get the orchids, but I’ll be saved a lot of trouble. Archie, get Mr. Cramer in here. Tell him it’s urgent. I’ll not perch on this confounded milking stool any longer than I have to.”
I arose and started for the door, not hastily. I knew it was in the bag because Hewitt hadn’t raised his voice. It was only a war of nerves.
“Blackmail,” Hewitt said through his teeth.
“Go on, Archie,” Wolfe said. I put my hand on the knob.
“Wait a minute,” Hewitt said. I turned my head but kept my hand on the knob.
“One of them,” Hewitt said. “Select any one.”
I went back and sat down.
Wolfe sighed and shook his head. “All three. I won’t haggle. I’m going to have to work for them. You may call it blackmail to relieve your feelings, but what about me? It’s possible that this evidence I’m withholding from Mr. Cramer is vital evidence, and I don’t intend to shield a murderer. If I withhold it I’ll have to find the murderer myself, and enough evidence to convict him without this. And if I fail I’ll have to tell Mr. Cramer all about it, which would be deplorable, and shall have to return the plants to you, which would be unthinkable. So I shan’t fail.”
“Two of them,” Hewitt said. “Two plants. To be delivered to you when you have satisfactorily performed your part of the bargain.” He may have inherited it, but he certainly knew how to hang onto it.
“No,” Wolfe said. “All three, and I take them home with me now. You can trust me, I can’t trust you, because if it turns out that you killed the man yourself and I get you for it, I’d never get them.”
“Do you-” Hewitt was goggle-eyed. “You have the effrontery-you dare to suggest-”
“Not at all. I suggest nothing. I consider contingencies, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t.” Wolfe put a hand on the edge of the table for leverage and lifted himself from the milking stool. “I’m going home where there is a chair to sit on, and go to work. If you’ll please take Mr. Goodwin upstairs and give him the plants so I can take them with me . . .”