'Later, but still a boy. I then believed that all misguided or cruel people should be shot, and I shot some. I starved to death in 1916.'
The G-man looked startled. 'I beg your pardon?'
'I said I starved to death. When the Austrians came and we fought machine-guns with finger-nails. Logically I was dead; a man can't live on dry grass. Actually I went on breathing. When the United States entered the war and I walked six hundred miles to join the A.E.F., I ate again. When it ended I returned to the Balkans. shed another illusion, and came back to America.'
'Hvala Bogu,' I put in brightly.
Stahl, startled again, shot me a glance. 'I beg your pardon? Are you a Montenegrin?'
'Nope. Pure Ohio. The ejaculation was involuntary.'
Wolfe, ignoring me, went on, 'I would like to say, Mr Stahl, that my temperament would incline me to resent and resist an attempt by any individual to inquire into my personal history or affairs, but I do not regard you as an individual. Naturally. You represent the Federal Government. You are, in effect, America itself sitting in my office wanting to know something about me, and I am so acutely grateful to my native country for the decencies it still manages to preserve… by the way, would you care for a glass of American beer?'
'No, thank you.'
Wolfe pushed the button and leaned back. He grunted. 'To your question, sir: I represent no foreign principal, firm, individual, organization, dictator, or government. Occasionally I pursue inquiries here, professionally as a detective, on requests from Europe, chiefly from Mr Ethelbert Hitchcock of London, an English confrиre, as he does there for me. I am pursuing none at present. I am not an agent of Mr Hitchcock or of anyone else.'
'I see.' Stahl sounded open to conviction. 'That's definite enough. But your early experiences in Europe… may I ask… do you know a Prince Donevitch?'
'I knew him long ago. He's getting ready to die, I believe, in Paris.'
'I don't mean him. Isn't there another one?'
'There is. Old Peter's nephew. Prince Stefan Donevitch. I believe he lives in Zagreb. When I was there in 1916 he was a six-year-old boy.'
'Have you communicated with him recently?'
'No. I never have.'
'Have you sent money to him or to anyone or any organization for him-or the cause he represents?'
'No, sir.'
'You do make remittances to Europe, don't you?'
'I do.' Wolfe grimaced. 'From my own funds, earned at my trade. I have contributed to the Loyalists in Spain. I send money occasionally to the-translated, it is the League of Yugoslavian Youth. Prince Stefan Donevitch assuredly has no connexion with that.'
'I wouldn't know. What about your wife? Weren't you married?'
'No. Married? No. That was what-' Wolfe stirred, as under restraint, in his chair. 'It strikes me, sir, that you are nearing the point where even a grateful American might tell you to go to the devil.'
I put in emphatically, 'I know damn well I would, and I'm only a sixty-fourth Indian.'
The G-man smiled and uncrossed his legs. 'I suppose,' he said amiably, 'you'd have no objection to putting this in the form of a signed document. What you've told me.'
'On a proper occasion, none at all.'
'Good. You represent no foreign principal, directly or indirectly?'
'That is correct.'
'Well, that's all we wanted to know.' He got up. 'At present. Thank you very much.'
'You're quite welcome. Good-day, sir.'
I followed him out, to open the front door for America and make sure he was on the proper side of it when it was closed again. Wolfe could get sentimental about it if he wanted to, but I don't like any stranger nosing around my private affairs, let alone a nation of 130 million people. When I returned to the office he was sitting back with his eyes closed.
'You see what happens,' I told him bitterly. 'Just because you rake in two fat fees and the bank account is momentarily bloated, in the space of three weeks you refuse nine cases. Not counting the poor little immigrant girl with a friend who likes diamonds. You refuse to investigate anything for anybody. Then what happens? America gets suspicious because it's un-American not to make all the money you can, and sticks a senior G-man on you, and now, by God, you're going to have to investigate yourself! You don't need-'
'Archie. Shut up.' His eyes opened. 'You're a liar. Since when have you been a sixty-fourth Indian?'
Before I could parry his counter-attack, Fritz appeared to announce lunch. I knew it was to be warmed-over duck scraps, so I was off at the gun.
Chapter Two
