already know, except that I came on the same plane as Corrigan, as arranged. At the airport he took his bag and scooted. I presume that with what you've collected here we're about ready to jump?'
He snorted. 'Where? On whom?'
'I don't know.'
'Neither do I. When.Mr. Wellman first came to see me, eighteen days ago, I assumed that Dykes had written that novel, that he and two women were killed on account of their knowledge of it, and that someone in that law office wasinvolved. We have validated that assumption, and that's all. We know nothing new.'
I swallowed food. 'Then my trip to rainy California was a washout.'
'By no mean. All we could do was force him or them to become visible by movement. All we can do now is continue the process. We'll contrive it.'
'Right after breakfast? I've had no sleep.'
'We'll see. Movement once started is hard to stop.' He glanced at the wall clock. 'I'm late. We'll see. It is satisfactory to have you back.' He got up and went.
I finished breakfast and looked through the morning paper and went to the office. I wouldn't have been surprised to see a stack of unopened mail, but apparently he had worked his head off during my absence. Bills and other items, out of their envelopes, were neatly arranged on my desk, and the exposed sheet of my desk calendar said March ninth, today. I was touched. I looked over things a little and then took my suitcase and mounted to my room. It was glad to see me back. When I'm up there I always turn the phone extension on, but that time I forgot to. I had unpacked and stripped and showered, and was using my electric shaver,– when Fritz appeared at the bathroom door, panting.
'The phone,' he said. 'Mr. Corrigan wants to speak to Mr. Wolfe.'
'Okay. I forgot to turn it on. I'll get it.'
I went and flipped the switch and lifted the receiver. 'This is Archie Goodwin.'
I expected Mrs. Adams, but it was Corrigan himself. He said curtly that he wished to speak to Wolfe, and I told him Wolfe wouldn't be available until eleven. He said they wanted an appointment with him, and I asked who wanted it.
'I and my associates.'
'Would eleven o'clock suit you? Or it could be eleven-thirty.'
'We would prefer eleven o'clock. We'll be there.'
Before I went to finish shaving I buzzed Wolfe on the house phone and told him, 'Right you were. Movement once started is hard to stop. The law firm will be here at eleven.'
'Ah,' he said. 'Contrivance may not be needed.'
It was only ten-thirty, and I took my time completing my personal chores. I can dress fast, but I don't like to have to.
When I went downstairs I was ready for anything, including a two-hour nap, but that would have to wait.
They were ten minutes late, so Wolfe was in the office when they arrived. Before any conversation got started I noticed an interesting little item. Off the end of Wolfe's desk, facing it, the big red leather chair is the most convenient spot for a visitor, and when there are two or more visitors that is obviously the seat for whoever has priority. When that group had been there before, Corrigan, the senior partner, had occupied it, but this time who should pop into it but the white-haired blinking Briggs, Helen Troy's Uncle Fred. Apparently no one remarked it but me, and that was equally interesting. As they sat, Emmett Phelps, the long-armed six-foot encyclopedia, was nearest me; Corrigan was next; then the sleepy-eyed slumpy Louis Kustin, successor to Conroy O'Malley as the firm's trial man; and then the disbarred O'Malley with a bitter twist to his mouth.
Wolfe's eyes went from left to right and back again. 'Well, gentlemen?'
Three of them spoke at once.
'I can't converse with bedlam,' Wolfe said testily.
Frederick Briggs, in the red leather chair, blinking, took the ball. 'At our previous visit,' he said slowly and distinctly, 'I came with my associates under protest. On that occasion you were invited to question us. This time we have questions to ask you. You may remember that I characterized your methods as unethical and reprehensible, and you justified that criticism when you fabricated a notation on Dykes's letter of resignation, imitating the handwriting of one of us, and gave it to the police. What defense do you offer for that action?'
Wolfe's brows were up. 'None, Mr. Briggs.'
Briggs blinked furiously. 'That is not acceptable. I insist- we insist-on an answer.'
'Then I'll give you one.' Wolfe was not aroused. 'As you say, the notation was in Mr. Corrigan's hand. There are three possible explanations of how it was made. One, by Mr. Corrigan himself some time ago. Two, by me recently. Three, by any one of you, including Mr. Corrigan, either before or after I asked to see the letter. The letter was easily accessible, there in your office files. You, sir, can't possibly know which explanation- is correct, unless you made the notation yourself. Questioned by the police, all of you have denied making it. I
deny making it.' Wolfe flipped a hand. 'Surely you don't credit me with a monopoly in mendacity?'
'That's evasive. I insist-'
'Forget it, Fred,' Kustin cut in irritably. His sleepy eyes were awake. 'I told you, you won't get anywhere with that, and there's no jury to work on even if you knew how to do it. Get to the point.'
'He won't.' Phelps, the indifferent scholar, was irritated too. 'Let Con do it.'
