I didn't ask him. Instead, I made the suggestion, casually, to Gwenn. Later I made it pointedly to Madeline, and she agreed to drop a word in if the occasion offered. Then I got into the library alone with Sperling, suggested it to him even more pointedly, and asked him which phone I could use for a New York call, and told him the call was not for him to hear. He was a little difficult about it, which I admit he had a right to be, but by that time I could make whole sentences again and I managed to sell him. He left and closed the door behind him, and I got Saul Panzer at his home in Brooklyn and talked to him all of twenty minutes. With my head still soggy, I had to go over it twice to be sure not to leave any gaps.
That was around six o'clock, which meant I had four more hours to suffer, since I had picked ten for the time of departure and was now committed to it, but it wasn't so bad. A little later the clouds began to sail around and you could tell them apart, and the sun even took a look as us just before it dropped over the edge; and what was more important, I risked a couple of nibbles at a chicken sandwich and before I was through the sandwich was too, and also a piece of cherry pie and a glass of milk. Mrs Sperling patted me on the back and Madeline said that now she would be able to get some sleep.
It was six minutes past ten when I slid behind the wheel of the convertible, asked Rony if he had remembered his toothbrush, and rolled along the plaza into the curve of the drive.
“What's this,” he asked, “a forty-eight?” “No,” I said, “forty-nine.” He let his head go back to the cushion and shut his eyes.
There were enough openings among the clouds to show some stars but no moon. We wound along the drive, reached the stone pillars, and eased out on to the public road. It was narrow, with an asphalt surface that wouldn't have been hurt by a little dressing, and for the first mile we had it to ourselves, which suited me fine. Just beyond a sharp turn the shoulder widened at a spot where there was an old shed at the edge of thick woods, and there at the roadside, headed the way we were going, a car was parked. I was going slow on account of the turn, and a woman darted nut and blinked a flashlight, and I braked to a stop. As I did so the woman called, “Got a jack mister?” and a man's voice came, “My Jack broke, you got one?” I twisted in the seat to back off the road on to the grass. Rony muttered at me, “What the hell,” and I muttered back, “Brotherhood of man.” As the man and woman came toward us I got out and told Rony, “Sorry, but I guess you'll have to move; the jack's under the seat.” The woman, saying something about what nice people we were, was on his side and opened the door for him, and he climbed out. He went out backwards, facing me, and just as he was clear something slammed against the side of my head and I sank to the ground, but the grass was thick and soft. I stayed down and listened. It was only a few seconds before I heard my name.
“Okay, Archie.” I got to my feet, reached in the car to turn off the engine and lights, and circled around the hood to the other side, away from the road. Louis Rony was stretched out flat on his back. I didn't waste time checking on him, knowing that Ruth Bradv could give lectures on the scientific use of a persuader, and anyhow she was kneeling at his head with her flashlight.
“Sorry to break into your Sunday evening, Ruth darling.” “Nuts to you, Archie my pet. Don't stand talking. I don't like this, out here in the wilderness.” “Neither do I. Don't let him possum.” “Don't worry. I've got a blade of grass up his nose.” “Good. If he wiggles tap him again.” I turned to Saul Panzer, who had his shirt sleeves rolled up. “How are the wife and children?” “Wonderful.” “Give 'em my love. You'd better be busy the other side of the car, in case of traffic.” He moved as instructed and I went to my knees beside Ruth. I expected to find it on him, since it wouldn't have been sensible for him to take such pains with it when he went swimming and then carelessly pack it in his bag, which had been brought down by one of the helps. And I did find it on him. It was not in a waterproof container but in a cellophane envelope, in the innermost compartment of his alligator-skin wallet. I knew that must be it, because nothing else on him was out of the ordinary, and because its nature was such that I knelt there and goggled, with Ruth's flashlight focused on it.
“The surprise is wasted on me,” she said scornfully. “I'm oru It's yours and you had to get it back. Comrade!” “Shut up.” I was a little annoyed. I removed it from the cellophane cover and inspected it some more, but there was nothing tricky about it. It was merely what it was, a membership card in the American Communist Party, Number 128-394, and the name on it was William Reynolds. What annoyed me was that it was so darned pat. Our client had insisted that Rony was a Commie, and the minute I do a little personal research on him, here's his membership card! Of course the name meant nothing. I didn't like it. It's an anti-climax to have to tell a client he was dead right in the first place.
“What do they call you, Bill or Willie?” Ruth asked, “Hold this,” I told her, and gave her the card. I got the key and opened up the car trunk, hauled out the big suitcase, and got the big camera and some bulbs.
Saul came to help. Ruth was making comments which we ignored. I took three pictures of that card, once held in Saul's hand, once propped up on the suitcase, and once leaning against Rony's ear. Then I slipped it back in the cellophane cover and replaced it in the wallet, and put the wallet where I found it, in Rony's breast pocket.
One operation remained, but it took less time because I had more experience at taking wax impressions of keys than at photography. The wax was in the medicine case, and the keys, eight of them, were in Rony's fold. There was no need to label the impressions, since I didn't know which key was for what anyway. I took all eight, not wanting to skimp.
“He can't last much longer,” Ruth announced.
“He don't need to.” I shoved a roll of bills at Saul, who had put the suitcase back in the trunk. “This came out of his wallet. I don't know how much it is and don't care, but I don't want it on me. Buy Ruth a string of pearls or give it to the Red Cross. You'd better get going, huh?” They lost no time. Saul and I understand each other so well that all he said was, “Phone in?” and I said, “Yeah,” The next minute they were off. As soon as their car was around the next bend I circled to the other side of the convertible, next the road, stretched out on the grass, and started groaning.
When nothing happened I quit after a while. Just as my weight was bringing the wet in the ground through the grass and on through my clothes, and I was about to shift, a noise came from Rony's side and I let out a groan. I got on to my knees, muttered an expressive word or two, groaned again, reached for the handle of the door and pulled myself to my feet, reached inside and turned on the lights, and saw Rony sitting on the grass inspecting his wallet.
“Hell, you're alive,” I muttered.
He said nothing.
“The bastards,” I muttered.
He said nothing. It took him two more minutes to decide to try to stand up.
I admit that an hour and fifty minutes later, when I drove away from the kerb in front of his apartment on Sixty-ninth Street after letting him out, I was totally in the dark about his opinion of me. He hadn't said more than fifty words all the way, leaving it to me to decide whether we should stop at a State Police
