confusion, but the sorting out should not be too long delayed. My son seems to be pretty slow at it. He overrates some people and underrates others. Perhaps I've tried to rush it by opening too many doors for him. A father's conceit can be a very disastrous thing.'
He tapped ashes from his cigarette. He asked abruptly but not at all pugnaciously, 'What is it you want, Mr Wolfe?'
Wolfe shook his head. 'Nothing right now. I wanted to see Madame Zorka and your son kindly made that possible.'
'Yes, he told me about that. But what else?'
'Nothing at present. Really.'
'Well.' Barrett smiled. 'I understand that as a private investigator you undertake almost any sort of job that promises a fee proportionate to your abilities.'
'Yes, sir, I do. Within certain boundaries I have set. I try to keep my prejudices intact.'
'Naturally.' Barrett laughed sympathetically. 'We can't leave it to anyone else to defend our prejudices for us.' He tapped off ashes again. 'My son also tells me that you are engaged in the interests of a young woman named Tormic who is a friend of his. At least-hum-an acquaintance. In connexion with the murder of that man Ludlow.'
'That's right,' Wolfe agreed. 'I was originally engaged to clear her of a charge of stealing diamonds from a man named Driscoll. Then Mr Ludlow got killed, and Miss Tormic needed a little help on that too because she was implicated by circumstances.'
'And was it from this Miss Tormic that you received information which enabled you to put pressure on my son? You did put pressure on him, didn't you?'
'Certainly. I blackmailed him.'
'Yes. With a threat to disclose certain facts. Did you get those facts from Miss Tormic?'
'My dear sir.' Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. 'You can't possibly be fatuous enough to expect me to tell you that.'
Barrett smiled at him. 'There's always a chance that you might. Especially since there's no good reason why you shouldn't. Are you under obligation to defend the interests of anyone except Miss Tormic?'
'Yes. My own. Always my own.'
'That, of course. But anyone else? I should think there would be no impropriety in your telling me if you represent any interest except that of Miss Tormic. For instance, Madame Zorka?'
Wolfe frowned. 'I am always reluctant to make a present of information. Just as you are reluctant to make a present of money. You're a banker and your business is selling money; I'm a detective and mine is selling information. But I don't want to be churlish. In connexion with the activities we are speaking of, I represent no interest whatever except that of Miss Tormic.'
'And, always, your own.'
'Always my own.'
'Good.' Barrett crushed his cigarette in the tray. 'That clears the way for us, I should think. Please don't think I'm fatuous. I've made some inquiries and I find you have an enviable reputation for good faith. I have a proposal to make regarding this little project my firm is interested in. This-um-business you mentioned to my son. We need your services. Nothing onerous, and certainly nothing to offend your prejudices.' He pulled a little leather fold from his pocket. 'I'll give you a cheque now as a retainer. Say ten thousand dollars?'
I thought to myself, what do you know about that; Donnydarling got his briber's itch honestly, by direct inheritance. Then I grinned, looking at Wolfe. One corner of his mouth was twisted a little out of line, which meant that he was suffering acute pain. It was a situation he had had to face fairly often during the years I had known him, and the torture involved was in direct proportion to the number of cyphers. Ten thousand bucks would have kept a good man, even Ray Borchers, in Central America for a full year, hunting rare orchids, always with the possibility of finding one absolutely new. Or 5,000 cases of beer or 600 pounds of caviare…
He said bravely, but with somewhat more breath than the word should require, 'No.'
'No?'
'No.'
'If I assure you that you will be expected to do nothing that will interfere with the interest you already represent? And in case my assurance doesn't satisfy you, if at any time you find your engagements in conflict you may merely return the ten thousand dollars-'
Wolfe's lip twitched. I turned my head away. But his voice showed that he had it licked: 'No, sir. To return that amount of money would ruin my digestion for a week. If I could bring myself to do it, which is doubtful. No, sir. Abandon the idea. I shall accept no commission or retainer from you.'
'Is that-um-definite?'
'Irrevocable.'
One little vertical crease showed in the middle of Barrett's forehead. With no other sign of fits, he returned the leather fold to his breast pocket, and then regarded Wolfe with what was probably as close to an open stare as he ever got.
'The only recourse that leaves me,' he said, with no affability left in his tone at all, 'is to draw my own conclusions.'
'If you find you must have a conclusion, yes, sir.'
'But I confess I'm puzzled. I'm not often puzzled, but I am now. I'm not gullible enough to believe
