'Ten.'
'Then it's ten. And no discovered motive in the whole damn bunch. I wouldn't-'
The phone rang. I performed and, after a moment, beckoned to Cramer.
'For you. It's the boss.'
'Who?'
'The police commissioner, by gum.'
He got up, said in a resigned tone, 'Oh, poop,' and came and took it.
Chapter Six
That telephone conversation was in two sections. During the first section, which was prolonged, Cramer was doing the talking, in a respectfully belligerent tone, reporting on the situation and the regrettable lack of progress to date. During the second, which was shorter, he was listening and apparently to something not especially cheerful, judging from the inflection of his grunts, and from the expression on his face when he finally cut the connexion and returned to his chair.
He sat and scowled.
Wolfe said, 'You were lamenting the lack of motive.'
'What?' He looked at Wolfe. 'Yeah. I'd give my afternoon off to know what you know right now.'
'It would cost you more than an afternoon, Mr Cramer. I read a lot of books.'
'To hell with books. I am fully aware that you've got some kind of a line on this thing and I haven't; I knew that as soon as I heard about Goodwin. If it ever did any good to look at your face, I'd look at it while I'm telling you that the commissioner just informed me that he had a phone call ten minutes ago from the British Consul-General. The consul stated that he was shocked and concerned to learn of the sudden and violent death of a British subject named Percy Ludlow and he hoped that no effort would be spared and so forth.'
Wolfe shook his head. 'I'm afraid my face wouldn't help you any on that. My sole reaction is the thought that the British Consul-General must have remarkable channels of information. It's half past ten at night. The murder occurred only four hours ago.'
'Nothing remarkable about it. He heard it on a radio news bulletin.'
'The source of the news was you or your staff?'
'Naturally.'
'Then you had discovered that Ludlow was a British subject?'
'No. No one up there knew much about him. Men are out on that now.'
'Then obviously it's remarkable. The radio tells the consul merely that a man named Percy Ludlow had been killed at a dancing and fencing studio on 48th Street, and he knows at once that the victim was a British subject. Not only that, he doesn't wait until morning, when the usual conventional communication could be sent to the police from his office, but immediately phones the commissioner himself. So either Mr Ludlow was himself important or he was concerned in important business. Maybe the consul could supply some details.'
'Much obliged. The commissioner has a date with him at eleven o'clock. Meanwhile how about supplying a few yourself?'
'I don't know any. I heard Mr Ludlow's name for the first time shortly before six o'clock this afternoon.'
'You say. All right, to hell with you and your client both. I don't kick on any ordinary murder, it's my job and I try to handle it, but I hate these damn foreign mix-ups. Look at those two girls, they barely speak English, and if they want to monkey around playing with swords why can't they stay where they belong and do it there? Look at Miltan, I suppose some kind of a Frenchman, and his wife. Look at Zorka. Then look at that Rudolph Faber guy, he reminds me of the cartoons of Prussian officers at the time of the World War. And now the Federals are up there horning in, and this Consul-General informs us that even the dead man wasn't a plain honest-to-God American-'
'From old Ireland,' I slipped in.
'Shut up. You know what I mean. I don't care if the background is wop or mick or kike or dago or yankee or square-head or dutch colonial, so long as it's American. Give me an American murder with an American motive and an American weapon, and I'll deal with it. But these damn alien trimmings, йpйes and culdymores and consuls calling up about their damn subjects-and moreover, why I was fool enough to expect anything here is beyond me. I should have had you tagged and hauled in and let you wait in a cold hall until sunrise.'
He appeared to be preparing to leave his chair. Wolfe displayed a palm.
'Please, Mr Cramer. Good heavens, the corpse is barely cooled off. Would you mind telling me how Mr Faber made himself responsible for the fact that there's been no arrest? I think that was how you put it.'
'I might and I might not. Do you know Faber?'
'I've said all those people are strangers to me. I tell only useful lies, and only those not easily exposed.'
