'Well.' Wolfe sighed. 'You see the little difficulty, of course. Whoever telephoned knew that Scovil was in New York and knew he was at this office. Who knew that except you three?'
Hilda Lindquist said, 'The Marquis of Clivers knew it.'
'How do you know that?'
'I don't know it. I see it. Clara had been to see him and he had threatened to have her arrested for annoying him. He had detectives follow her, and they saw her this noon with Harlan Scovil, and they followed Harlan Scovil here and then notified the Marquis of Clivers. Then he telephoned-'
'Possible, Miss Lindquist. I admit it's possible. If you substitute for the detective a member of the marquis's entourage, even more possible. But granted that we rather like that idea, do you think the police will? A British peer, in this country on a government mission of the highest importance, murdering Harlan Scovil on Thirty-first Street? I have known quite a few policemen, and I am almost certain that idea wouldn't appeal to them.'
Mike Walsh said, 'To hell with the dumb Irish cops.'
Clara Fox asked, 'The detective that was here… the one that told you about… about the shooting. Our names were on that paper. Why didn't he want to see us?'
'He did. Badly. But I observed that there were no addresses on the paper except my own, so he is probably having difficulty. I decided not to mention that all of you happened to be here at the moment, because I wanted a talk with you and I knew he would monopolize your evening.'
'The detective at my apartment… he may have been there… about this…'
'No. There had hardly been time enough. Besides, there was one at the garage too.'
Clara Fox looked at him, and took a deep breath. 'I seem to be in a fix.'
'Two fixes. Miss Fox.' Wolfe rang for beer. 'But it is possible that before we are through we may be able to effect a merger.'
VII
I ONLY half heard that funny remark of Wolfe's. Parts of my brain were skipping around from this to that and finding no place to settle down. As a matter of fact I had been getting more uncomfortable all evening, ever since Slim Foltz had told us the names on that paper and Wolfe had let him go without telling him that the three people he was looking for were sitting in our front room- He was working on a murder, and the fact that the name of a bird like that marquis was on that paper meant that they weren't going to let anything slide. They would find those three people sooner or later, and when they learned where they had been at the time Slim Foltz called on us, they would be vexed. There were already two or three devoted public servants who thought Wolfe was a little tricky, and it looked as if this was apt to give them entirely too much encouragement. I knew pretty well how Wolfe worked, and when he let Foltz go I had supposed he was going to have a little talk with our trio of visitors and then phone someone like Cramer at Headquarters or Dick Morley of the District Attorney's office, and arrange for some interviews. But here it was past ten o'clock, and he was just going on with an interesting conversation. I didn't like it.
I heard his funny remark though, about two fixes and effecting a merger. I got his idea, and that was one of the points my brain skipped to. I saw how there might possibly be a connection between the Rubber Band business and Clara Fox being framed for lifting the thirty grand. She had gone to this British gent and spilled her hand to him, and he had given her the chilly how now and had her put out. But he had been badly annoyed what. You might even say scared if he hadn't been a nobleman. And a few days later the frame-up reared its ugly head. It would be interesting to find out if the Marquis of Clivers was acquainted with Mr. Muir, and if so to what extent. Clara Fox had said Muir was a Scotchman, so you couldn't depend on him any more than you could an Englishman, maybe not as much. As usual, Wolfe was ahead of me, but he hadn't lost me, I was panting along behind.
Meanwhile I had to listen too, for the conversation hadn't stopped. At the end of Wolfe's remark about the merger, Mike Walsh suddenly stood up and announced, 'I'll be going.'
Wolfe looked at him. 'Not just yet, Mr. Walsh. Be seated.'
But he stayed on his feet. 'I've got to go. I want to see Harlan.'
'Mr. Scovil is dead. I beg you, sir. There are one or two points I must still explain.'
Walsh muttered, 'I don't like this. You see I don't like it?' He glared at Wolfe, handed me the last half of it, and sat down on the edge of his chair.
Wolfe said, 'It's getting late. We are confronted by three distinct problems, and each one presents difficulties. First, the matter of the money missing from the office of the Seaboard Products Corporation. So far that appears to be the personal problem of Miss Fox, and I shall discuss it with her later. Second, there is your joint project of collecting a sum of money from the Marquis of Clivers. Third, there is your joint peril resulting from the murder of Harlan Scovil.'
'Joint hell.' Walsh's eyes were narrowed again. 'Say we divide the peril up, mister. Along with the money.'
'If you prefer. But let us take the second problem first. I see no reason for abandoning the attack on the Marquis of Clivers because Mr. Scovil has met a violent death. In fact, that should persuade us to prosecute it. My advice would be this- Archie, your notebook. Take a letter to the Marquis of Clivers, to be signed by me. Salute him democratically, 'Dear sir:
'I have been engaged by Mr. Victor Lindquist and his daughter. Miss Hilda Lindquist, as their agent to collect an amount which you have owed them since 1895. In that year, in Silver City, Nevada, with your knowledge and consent, Mr. Lindquist purchased a horse from a man known as Turtleback, and furnished the horse to you for your use in an urgent private emergency. You signed a paper before your departure acknowledging the obligation,
