She started to explain herself, but Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. 'It is unnecessary, and possibly painful to you, Miss Barstow, I know. You are the only daughter of Peter Oliver Barstow. All you need tell is why you have come to me.'
'Yes.' She hesitated. 'Of course you would know, Mr. Wolfe. It is a little difficult-perhaps I wanted a preamble.' She had a try at a smile. 'I am going to ask you a favor, I don’t know how much of a favor it will be.'
'I can tell you that.'
'Of course. First I must ask you, do you know that my mother had an advertisement in the paper this morning?'
Wolfe nodded. 'I have read it.'
'Well, Mr. Wolfe, I-that is, we, the family-must ask you to disregard that advertisement.'
Wolfe breathed and let his chin down. 'An extraordinary request, Miss Barstow. Am I supposed to be as extraordinary in granting it, or do I get reasons?'
'There are reasons of course.' She hesitated. 'It is not a family secret, it is known that my mother is- in some degree and on various occasions-irresponsible.' Her eyes were earnest on him. 'You must not think there is anything ugly about this or that it has anything to do with money. There is plenty of money and my brother and I are not niggardly. Nor must you think that my mother is not a competent person-certainly not in the legal sense. But for years there have been times when she needed our attention and love, and this-this terrible thing has come in the middle of one of them. She is not normally vengeful, but that advertisement-my brother calls it a demand for blood. Our close friends will of course understand, but there is the world, and my father-my father’s world was a wide one-we are glad if they help us mourn for him but we would not want them-Father would not want them-to watch us urging on the bloodhounds-'
She gave a little gasp and stopped, and glanced at me and back at Wolfe. He said, 'Yes, Miss Barstow, you are calling me a bloodhound. I am not offended. Go on.'
'I’m sorry. I’m a tactless fool. It would have been better if Dr. Bradford had come.'
'Was Dr. Bradford considering the enterprise?'
'Yes. That is, he thought it should be done.'
'And your brother?'
'Well-yes. My brother greatly regrets it, the advertisement I mean. He did not fully approve of my coming to see you. He thought it would be-fruitless.'
'On the theory that it is difficult to call off a bloodhound. Probably he understands dogs. Have you finished, Miss Barstow? I mean, have you any further reasons to advance?'
She shook her head. 'Surely, Mr. Wolfe, those are sufficient.'
'Then as I understand it, your desire is that no effort be made to discover and punish the persons who murdered your father?'
She stared at him. 'Why-no. I didn’t say that.'
'The favor you ask of me is that I refrain from such an effort?'
Her lips closed. She opened them enough to say, 'I see. You are putting it as badly as possible.'
'Not at all. Clearly, not badly. Understandably, your mind is confused; mine is lucid. Your position as you have so far expressed it is simply not intelligent. You may make any one of several requests of me, but you may not ask them all at once, for they are mutually exclusive. You may, for instance, tell me that while you are willing that I should discover the murderer, you request me not to expect to be paid for it as your mother has offered. Is that your request?'
'It is not. You know it is not.'
'Or you may tell me that I may find the murderer if I can, and collect the reward if I choose to take advantage of the legal obligation, but that the family disapproves of the offer of reward on moral grounds. Is that it?'
'Yes.' Her lip trembled a little, but in a moment she pulled it up firm. Then suddenly she stood up and shot at him: 'No! I’m sorry I came here. Professor Gottlieb was wrong; you may be clever-good day, Mr. Wolfe.'
'Good day, Miss Barstow.' Wolfe was motionless. 'The engineering considerations keep me in my chair.'
She was going. But halfway to the door she faltered, stood a moment, and turned. 'You are a bloodhound. You are. You are heartless.'
'Quite likely.' Wolfe crooked a finger. 'Come back to your chair. Come, do; your errand is too important to let a momentary resentment ruin it. That’s better; self-control is an admirable quality. Now, Miss Barstow, we can do one of two things: either I can flatly but gracefully refuse your original request as you made it and we can part on fairly bad terms; or you can answer a few questions I would like to ask and we can then decide what’s to be done. Which shall it be?'
She was groggy, but game. She was back in her chair and had a wary eye on him. She said, 'I have answered many questions in the past two days.'
'I don’t doubt it. I can imagine their tenor and their stupidity. I shall not waste your time or insult your intelligence. How did you learn that I knew anything of this business?'
She seemed surprised. 'How did I learn it? Why, you are responsible for it. That is, you discovered it. Everyone knows it. It was in the paper-not New York, the White Plains paper.'
I had a grin at that. Derwin would phone Ben Cook to come and assist me to the station, would he?
