I didn’t say anything.
He said, “I find, Donald, that you had an argument with the grievance committee in regard to legal ethics. You told a client how to commit a murder and avoid all legal responsibility.”
“I didn’t tell him anything of the sort. I was discussing abstract law.”
“The committee didn’t so understand it — the committee also said that you were in error.”
“I know they did, but it worked out. It actually held water.”
He rocked back and forth in his swivel chair, chuckling. “It did for a fact,” he admitted. “I happen to know one of the members of the grievance committee. I called the matter to his attention. He found it an embarrassing subject.”
“You cover a lot of territory yourself,” I observed.
“At times I do — not physically, but mentally. I find that a person keeps his mind keyed to a higher pitch if he conserves his physical energy as much as possible.”
I said, “All right, let’s quit beating around the bush. Where’s Esther Clarde?”
He stroked the long angle of his bony jaw with gnarled fingers. “I’m glad you’ve brought that up. I was wondering just how to broach the subject. I—”
The secretary popped her head in the door. “A long-distance call,” she said, “from—”
The smile left Crumweather’s face as though he’d ripped off a mask. His lips were ugly and snarling, his eyes hard and intolerant. “I told you I wasn’t to be interrupted. I told you what to do. Get out there and do it, and don’t—”
“It’s a long-distance call from Valleydale. The man says it’s terribly important.”
Crumweather thought that over for a minute. “All right, I’ll take the call.”
He picked up the telephone on his desk. His face was without expression. Only his eyes gave evidence of extreme mental concentration. After a while I heard a click and Crumweather said, “Hello... Yes, this is Crumweather. What do you want?”
I couldn’t hear anything coming in over the wire, but I could watch his face. I saw him frown, then the eyebrows raise just a bit. The mouth tightened. He glanced at me as though afraid that, through some psychic eavesdropping, I might be hearing what was reaching his left ear through the receiver. My expression reassured him, but the tendency to furtive secrecy was strong in the man. He cupped the palm of his right hand over the mouthpiece as though that would bottle up the telephone.
After a few seconds Crumweather moved his hand from the mouthpiece long enough to say, “You have to be absolutely certain you aren’t making any mistakes about this,” and then slid his hand back quickly.
Again he listened, and slowly nodded. “All right. Keep me posted.”
He listened a little while longer, then said, “All right, good-by,” and hung up. He looked at me speculatively, doubled his left fist, wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the knuckles, and squeezed until the knuckles popped. He picked up the telephone, and said to his secretary, “Let me have an outside line.” He dialed a number, taking pains to see that I couldn’t watch what number he was calling. He said, “Hello, this is Crumweather — all right. Now listen, get this straight. I want the operations reversed. Where you’ve been selling, you’ll have to buy. Quit selling immediately and buy back what you’ve sold. That’s right — I can’t explain — not right now. Do what I say. Well, suppose there was more of a foundation of fact than you’d thought — everything was just the way you — well, let’s look at it this way. Suppose a man was making a three-minute talk, and suppose everything he said in that three minutes happened to be not only true but true on a bigger scale than he’d even dared to dream — that’s right — you haven’t any time to waste. This thing is going to leak out. Call in all the men and get busy.”
He hung up the telephone and turned to me. It took him a minute to pick up the thread of the conversation.
“Esther Clarde,” I reminded him.
“Oh, yes,” he said, and his face once more settled into that fixed, frozen smile. “You know you made a most remarkable impression on that young woman, Donald.”
“Did I?”
“You did. I mean you really did.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You should be. It was most advantageous for you, but you see, I’m an older man and a wiser man, and, if I may say so, an older friend. Before she’d take any drastic steps, she’d consult me.”
“You’ve known her for some time?”
“Oh, yes, a very nice young woman — a very nice young woman.”
“That makes it nice,” I said.
“I can appreciate her generosity,” Crumweather said, “in trying to protect you, Donald, but I can’t condone it.”
“No?”
“No, not for a moment. Of course, Donald, a desperate man will do almost anything; but, even so, I can’t appreciate how any man could so far forget himself as to let a woman put himself in the position of being an accessory after the fact, an accomplice to the crime of murder.”
“Indeed.”
“And I have so advised Esther Clarde. It may interest you to know, Donald, that I talked with her early this morning. I have an appointment with her at ten-thirty. I’ve persuaded her that the only thing to do is to call the officers and confess frankly that she tried to protect you.”
“You mean reverse her statement?”
“That’s it exactly.”
“Her identification won’t amount to much if she goes on the stand now and swears I was the one who went into the hotel.”
He was positively beaming. “That’s right, Donald, that’s right. You have a very clear legal mind, but if she said that you had bribed her not to identify you, that it was because of this bribe she lied to the officers, but that afterward she had competent legal advice and realized that that made her an accessory after the fact — well, Donald, that legal mind of yours won’t have any difficulty in putting two and two together.”
“It doesn’t,” I said.
“I didn’t think it would.”
“Very clever,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he said, flashing his teeth in a grin. “I thought it was pretty good myself.”
“All right, what do you want?”
The grin left his face. He looked at me steadily. He said, “I want that last bunch of letters that Jed Ringold was supposed to have delivered in that envelope.”
“Why?”
“As a lawyer, Donald, you don’t need to ask that question.”
“But I am asking it.”
He said, “My client is going to be tried for murder. It’s one of those cases where a jury will act on prejudice rather than evidence. Those letters could build up a prejudice against my client, and the results would be disastrous.”
“Why didn’t you destroy them when you got your hands on them, then?”
He blinked his eyes at me. “I don’t think I understand, Donald.”
I said, “You got those letters. You wanted them destroyed so that D.A. could never use them. But you were too smart to burn them up yourself. You decided you’d let Alta burn them up and pay thirty thousand dollars for the privilege. That would get the letters out of the way just as effectively as though you’d struck the match yourself, and you’d be thirty grand to the good.”
He turned the idea over in his mind for a moment, and then nodded his head slowly. “That would have been a splendid idea, Donald, a splendid idea. As I told you, Donald, two heads are always better than one. A young man, particularly if he’s ingenious, thinks of things an older man might well overlook. You really must consider that partnership proposition. It would mean a career for you, my boy.”
Suddenly his eyes hardened. “But, in the meantime, Donald, don’t forget I want those letters. I’m not a man to be easily put aside or trifled with. Much as I respect your ingenuity and intelligence, I want those letters.”