'No.' Neya frowned. 'I have thought about that. I left the robe in the locker room, lying on a bench, when I went to the end room to fence. After I left Mr Ludlow there and met Mr Faber in the hall, I stopped in the locker room to leave my pad and glove and mask, and put on the robe and went with Mr Faber to the alcove. Whoever put the glove in my pocket, I don't think they did it until afterwards, because I think I would have noticed it. After the porter started to yell, we were all running around and jostling against each other-and I suppose someone did it then… that's the only way I can explain how it might have happened-'
'And you knew nothing about it.'
'I knew nothing about it until I felt something in my pocket there in the office.'
'And you were scared. You were just simply perfectly innocent.'
'Yes. I was. I am.'
'Sure. But though you were perfectly innocent, you didn't tell the police about it, and you weren't going to tell about it, and you never would have told about it, if Madame Zorka hadn't reported that she saw you do it and you were afraid to deny it!' He was yapping into her face at a range of thirty inches. 'Huh?'
'I-' She swallowed, 'I think I might. But the way I thought about it, I thought Mr Goodwin would find it in his pocket and turn it over to you, and it wouldn't matter whether you knew it had ever been in my pocket or not.'
'Then you thought wrong. Mr Goodwin doesn't turn things over to the police. Mr Goodwin climbs a fence and runs home to papa and says see what I got, and papa says-'
'Nonsense!' Wolfe cut in sharply. 'We'll dispose of that point now. You know what I told you; I don't need to repeat it. Granted that your supposititious assumption is correct, that Archie knew it was in his pocket and ran away with it, and that we concealed it from you, you can't possibly establish it as a fact, so why the devil waste time harping on it? Especially in view of a fact that is established, that when Madame Zorka's phone call caused us to investigate the overcoat pocket, we immediately communicated with you.'
'You had to!'
Wolfe grimaced. 'I don't know. Had to? Ingenuity can nearly always create an alternative if none exists. Anyway, we did. And if we hadn't, but had proceeded without you, your two missing objects would still be missing, for when Archie and Miss Tormic called on Madame Zorka she would have been gone, and the compulsion of her threatened exposure would have been removed. So you owe your possession of these two objects to us. You owe your knowledge of a suspicious circumstance, Madame Zorka's flight with a bag and suitcase, to us. And you owe your knowledge of the manner in which the criminal disposed of the glove and col de mort to the courageous candour of my client.'
Cramer, standing, stared down at him, and as far as I could see his face was not glowing with gratitude.
He said, 'So she's your client, is she?'
'I told you so.'
'You said tentatively. You said you'd decide when you had met her.'
'I have met her.'
'All right, you've met her. Is she your client?'
'She is.'
Cramer hesitated, then turned slowly and looked down at Neya. His gaze had concentration, but no acute hostility; and I suppressed a grin. I knew what was eating him. He was well aware that the time had yet to come when he would successfully pin a murder charge on any man, woman or child whom Nero Wolfe had accepted as a client, and he was strongly tempted to call it a day then and there as far as Neya Tormic was concerned and throw in another line. He even, half unconsciously, favoured Carla Lovchen with a sidewise suspicious glance, but he returned to Neya and, after a moment, wheeled again to Wolfe.
'Faber gives her an alibi. Okay. But you don't need to be told that an alibi works both ways. What if Faber thought she needed one and so he provided it? And she thought she needed it too, and accepted it and confirmed it? Without maybe realizing that while Faber was giving her an alibi, what he was really doing was arranging one for himself?'
Wolfe nodded. 'An old trick, but still a good one. That's quite possible, of course. Will you have some beer?'
'No.'
'You, Miss Tormic, Miss Lovchen?'
He got their declinations, pressed the button and went on: 'This thing's messy, Mr Cramer. It looks as if I'm going to have to find out who killed Mr Ludlow, unless you do it first yourself. You certainly aren't going to get anywhere badgering my client. Look at her. I'll have a little talk with her after you leave, and one thing I shall tell her is to hang on to the Faber alibi, for the present, even if it was fabricated by him. True, it protects Faber, but it also protects her. If and when you can point a suspicion at Faber, especially a motive, let me know and we'll discuss the alibi business.'
'You suspect her of lying yourself!'
'Not specifically. Anyone would tell a lie, at least by acquiescence, rather than stand trial for murder. By the way, about this Mr Faber. You are entirely wrong in your suspicion that he wasn't a stranger to me. I never saw him or heard of him in my life before to-day. Is he by any chance another confidential government agent?'
Cramer eyed him. 'How did you know that if he was such a stranger to you?'
'I didn't. Mere conjecture. If I had known it I wouldn't have asked. Not British, is he?'
'No.'
'Of course not. He might as well display an emblem on an armband. Archie and I don't like him. It's a
