The Final Deduction

“I won’t ask her.” Wolfe was curt. “I’ll merely ask her how he said it. If you have been candid, and I have no reason to think you haven’t, you have no valid objection to my speaking with her. As for her knowing that you have come to me, Mr Knapp will soon know that himself-or I hope he will.”

She gawked. “He will know? How?”

“I’ll tell him.” He turned. “Archie. Can we get an advertisement in the evening papers?”

“Probably, the late editions,” I told him. “The Post and World- Telegram, we can try. The Gazette, yes, with Lon Cohen’s help.” I was back in my chair with notebook and pen. “Classified?”

“No. It must be conspicuous. Two columns wide, or three. Headed in thirty-six-point, boldface, extended, ‘To Mr Knapp.’ Then in twelve-point: ‘The woman whose property is in your possession has engaged my services (period). She is now in my office (period). She has not told me what you said to her on the phone Monday afternoon (comma), and she will not tell me (period). I know nothing of the instructions you gave her (comma), and I do not expect or care to know (period). She has hired me for a specific job (comma), to make sure that her property is returned to her in good condition (comma), and that is the purpose of this notice (paragraph).

“ ‘For she has hired me for another job should it become necessary (period). If her property is not returned to her (comma), or if it is damaged beyond repair (comma), I have engaged to devote my time (comma), energy (comma), and talent (comma), for as long as may be required (comma), to ensure just and fitting requital (semicolon); and she has determined to support me to the full extent of her resources (period). If you do not know enough of me to be aware of the significance of this engagement to your future (comma), I advise you to inform yourself regarding my competence and my tenacity (period).’ Beneath, in fourteen-point boldface, ‘Nero Wolfe.’ To be billed to me. Can you do it by phone?”

“To Lon Cohen at the Gazette, yes. The others, maybe.” I swiveled and reached for the phone, but he stopped me.

“Just a moment.” He turned to Mrs Vail. “You heard that. As you said, your husband may already be dead. If so, I am irrevocably committed by the publication of that notice. Are you? No matter what it costs in time and money?”

“Certainly. If they kill him-certainly. But I don’t- Is that all you’re going to do, just that?”

“I may not do it, madam, and if I don’t I shall do nothing. There’s nothing else I could do. I’ll proceed if, and after, you give me another check for fifty thousand dollars and phone your secretary to come here at once.” He slapped the chair arm. “Do you realize that I will be staking my repute, whatever credit I have established in all my years? That’s what you must pay for; and the commitment. If your husband is already dead, or if Mr Knapp, not seeing my notice or ignoring it, kills him after he gets the money, I shall have no alternative; and what if you default? I might have to spend much more than sixty thousand dollars. Of course if your husband returns safely there will be no commitment and I’ll return some of it to you. How much will be in my discretion. Less if I learn that my notice was a factor; more if it wasn’t. I value my reputation, which I am risking in your interest, but I am not rapacious.” He looked up at the wall clock. “If what Mr Knapp told you to do is to be done tonight, the notice must appear today to have any effect. It’s nearly one o’clock.”

The poor woman-or rather, the rich woman-had her teeth clamped on her lip. She looked at me. People often do that when they are being bumped around by Wolfe, apparently hoping I will come and pat them. Sometimes I wouldn’t mind obliging them, but not Althea Vail, Mrs Jimmy Vail. She just didn’t warm me. Meeting her eyes, I let mine be interested but strictly professional, and when she saw that was all I had to offer she left me. She got out her checkfold, put it on the stand, and wrote, her teeth still clamping her lip. When she tore it out I was there to take it and hand it to Wolfe. Fifty grand. Wolfe gave it a glance, dropped it on his desk, and spoke.

“I hope you’ll get a large part of it back, madam. I do indeed. You may use Mr Goodwin’s phone to call your secretary. When that’s done he’ll use it to place that notice, in all three papers if possible.”

She fluttered a hand. “Is it really necessary, Mr Wolfe? My secretary?”

“Yes, if you want me to proceed. You’re going to your bank, and it will soon be lunchtime. Tell her to be here at three o’clock.”

She got up and went to my chair, sat, and dialed.

Chapter 2

When Dinah Utley arrived at 3:05, five minutes late, Wolfe was at his desk with a book, The Lotus and the Robot, by Arthur Koestler. We had started lunch later than usual because Wolfe had told Fritz not to put the shad roe in the skillet until he was notified, and it was close to half past one when I finally quit trying to persuade the Post and World-Telegram to get the ad in. Nothing doing. It was all set for the Gazette, thanks to Lon Cohen, who knew from experience that he would get a tit for his tat if and when. It was also set for all editions of the morning papers. The bulldogs would be out around eleven, and if Mr Knapp saw one after he got the money and before he erased Jimmy Vail, he might change the script.

Our client had left, headed for her bank, as soon as it was definite from Lon Cohen that the ad would be in the last two editions. Part of the time while I was phoning, for some minutes at the end, Wolfe was standing at my elbow, but not to listen to me. He had the note Mrs Vail had got from Mr Knapp in his hand, and he pulled my typewriter around and studied the keyboard, then looked at the note, then back at the keyboard; and he kept that up, back and forth, until Fritz came to announce lunch. That was no time for me to comment or ask a question, with sauteed shad roe fresh and hot from the skillet, and the sauce, with chives and chervil and shallots, ready to be poured on, and of course nothing relating to business is ever mentioned at the table, so I waited until we had left the dining room and crossed the hall back to the office to say, “That note was typed on an Underwood, but not mine, if that’s what you were checking. The ‘a’ is a little off-line. Also it wasn’t written by me. Whoever typed it has a very uneven touch.”

Sitting, he picked up The Lotus and the Robot. His current book is always