I stood shaking my head more in anger than in pity, and then went back to the office and said to Wolfe, 'I would say you hit bottom that time. He's staggering. If you called that foxy, what would you say if you saw a rat?'
Wolfe nodded faintly. I resumed, 'I showed you that paper because I thought you might deem it advisable to let Clivers and Muir see each other. Unexpected like that, it might have been interesting. It's my social instinct.'
'No doubt. But this is a detective bureau, not a fashionable salon. Nor a menagerie- since Mr. Muir is plainly a lecherous hyena. Bring Lord Clivers.'
I went through the connecting door to the front room, and Clivers looked around, surprised at my entering from a new direction. He was jumpy. I pointed him ahead and he stopped on the threshold and glanced around before venturing in. Then he moved spryly enough and walked over to the desk. Wolfe took him in with his eyes half shut, and nodded.
'How do you do, sir.' Wolfe indicated the chair Muir had just vacated. 'Be seated.'
Clivers did a slow-motion circle. He turned all the way around, encompassing with his eyes the bookshelves, the wall maps, the Holbein reproductions, more bookshelves, the three-foot globe on its stand, the engraving of Brillat-Savarin, more bookshelves, the picture of Sherlock Holmes above my desk. Then he sat down and looked at me with a frown and pointed a thumb at me.
'This young man,' he said.
Wolfe said, 'My confidential assistant, Mr. Goodwin. There would be no point in sending him out, for he would merely find a point of vantage we have prepared, and set down what he heard.'
'The devil he would.' Clivers laughed three short blasts, haw-haw-haw, and gave me up. He transferred the frown to Wolfe. 'I received your letter about that horse. It's preposterous.'
Wolfe nodded. 'I agree with you. All debts are preposterous. They are the envious past clutching with its cold dead fingers the throat of the living present.'
'Eh?' Clivers stared at him. 'What kind of talk is that? Rot. What I mean to say is, two hundred thousand pounds for a horse. And uncollectible.'
'Surely not.' Wolfe sighed. He leaned forward to press the button for Fritz, and back again. 'The best argument against you is your presence here. If it is uncollectible, why did you come? Will you have some beer?'
'What kind of beer?'
'American. Potable.'
'I'll try it. I came because my nephew gave me to understand that if I wanted to see you I would have to come. I wanted to see you because I had to learn if you are a swindler or a dupe.'
'My dear sir.' Wolfe lifted his brows. 'No other alternatives? Another glass and bottle, Fritz.' He opened his and poured. 'But you seem to be a direct man. Let's not get mired in irrelevancies. Frankly, I am relieved. I feared that you might even dispute the question of identity and create a lot of unnecessary trouble.'
'Dispute identity?' Clivers glared. 'Why the devil should I?'
'You shouldn't, but I thought you might. You were, forty years ago in Silver City, Nevada, known as George Rowley?'
'Certainly I was. Thanks, I'll pour it myself.'
'Good.' Wolfe drank, and wiped his lips. 'I think we should get along. I am aware that Mr. Lindquist's claim against you has no legal standing on account of the expiration of time. The same is true of the claim of various others; besides, the paper you signed which originally validated it is not available. But it is a sound and demonstrable moral obligation, and I calculated that rather than have that fact shown in open court you would prefer to pay. It would be an unusual case and would arouse much public interest.
Not only are you a peer of England, you are in this country on an important and delicate diplomatic mission, and therefore such publicity would be especially undesirable. Would you not rather pay what you owe, or at least a fraction of it, than permit the publicity? I calculated that you would. Do you find the beer tolerable?'
Clivers put down his glass and licked his lips. 'It'll do.' He screwed up his mouth and looked at Wolfe. 'By God, you know, you might mean that.'
'Verily, sir.'
'Yes, by God, you might. I'll tell you what I thought. I thought you were basing the claim on that horse with the pretense that it was additional to the obligation I assumed when I signed that paper. The horse wasn't mentioned in the paper. Not a bad idea, an excellent go at blackmail. It all sounds fantastic now, but it wasn't then. If I hadn't signed that paper and if it hadn't been for that horse I would have had a noose around my neck. Not so damn pleasant, eh? And of course that's what you're doing, claiming extra for the horse. But it's preposterous. Two hundred thousand pounds for a horse? I'll pay a thousand.'
Wolfe shook his head. 'I dislike haggling. Equally I dislike quibbling. The total claim is in question, and you know it. I represent not only Mr. and Miss Lindquist but also the daughter of Gilbert Fox, and indirectly Mr. Walsh; and I was to have represented Mr. Scovil, who was murdered last evening.' He shook his head again. 'No, Lord Clivers. In my letter I based the claim on the horse only because the paper you signed is not available. It is the total claim we are discussing, and, strictly speaking, that would mean half of your entire wealth. As I said, my clients are willing to accept a fraction.'
Clivers had a new expression on his face. He no longer glared, but looked at Wolfe quietly intent. He said, 'I see. So it's a serious game, is it? I would have paid a thousand for the horse, possibly even another thousand for the glass of beer. But you're on for a real haul by threatening to make all this public and compromise my position here. Go to hell.' He got up.
Wolfe said patiently, 'Permit me. It isn't a matter of a thousand or two for a horse. Precisely and morally, you owe these people half of your wealth. If they are willing-'
