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“Save it,” Cramer rasped. “You asking! You’re in a hell of a position to ask. You’ve been withholding material evidence, and it’s got too hot for you and you’ve got to let go. Okay, let go!”

He might not have spoken as far as Wolfe was concerned. He took up where he left off. “I’m not asking for much. You already have some of that and will now be getting the rest of it, and all you need to do is let Mr. Goodwin copy the reports of their movements. That will reveal no departmental secrets, and that’s all I want. I’m not haggling. If you refuse my request you’ll get what you came for anyway; I have no choice. I make the request in advance only because as soon as I give you the information you’ll be leaving. You’ll have urgent business and you wouldn’t wait to hear me. Will you oblige me?”

“I’ll see. I’ll consider it. Come on, spill it.”

Wolfe turned to me. “Archie?”

Since I had been instructed I didn’t have to ask him what to spill. I was to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about the gun, and that was all. I did so, beginning with Jarrell dashing into my room at 6:20 Wednesday afternoon, and ending twenty-four hours later in Wolfe’s office, with my report to him. When I finished Purley was on the edge of his chair, his jaw clamped, looking holes through me. Cramer was looking at Wolfe.

“Goddamn you,” he said. “Four days. You’ve had this four days.”

“Goodwin’s had it five days,” Purley said.

“Yeah.” Cramer transferred to me. “Okay, go on.”

I shook my head. “I’m through.”

“Like hell you’re through. You’ll be surprised. If you—”

“Mr. Cramer,” Wolfe cut in. “Now that you have it, use it. Railing at us won’t help any. If you think a charge of obstructing justice will hold, get a warrant, but I advise against it. I think you’d regret it. As soon as the possibility became a probability I acted. And when it was merely a possibility I explored it. I had them all here, on Friday, including Mr. Brigham, and told them that the gun must be produced. Yesterday, when the news came about Brigham, it was touch and go. Today, when Mr. Goodwin learned about the bullets, it became highly probable, but I felt that I owed my client at least a gesture, and I had them here again. It was fruitless. I repaid Mr. Jarrell’s retainer, dismissed them, and phoned you. I will not be squawked at. I have endured enough. Either get a warrant, or forget me and go to work on it.”

“Four days,” Cramer said. “When I think what we’ve been doing those four days. What are you hanging on to? What else have you got? Which one was it?”

“No, sir. If I had known that I would have called you here, not to give it up but to deliver a murderer. I would have been exalted, not mortified. I haven’t the slightest notion.”

“It was Jarrell himself. It was Jarrell, and he was your client, and you cut him loose, but you wouldn’t deliver him on account of your goddamn pride.”

Wolfe turned. “Archie. How much cash is in the safe?”

“Thirty-seven hundred dollars in the reserve and around two hundred in petty.”

“Bring me three thousand.”

I went and opened the door of the safe, unlocked the cash drawer and opened it, counted three grand from the reserve sack, and stepped to Wolfe’s desk and handed it to him. With it in his fist he faced Cramer.

“The wager is that when this is over and the facts are known you will acknowledge that at this hour, Monday evening, I had no inkling of the identity of the murderer, except that I had surmised that it was one of the seven people I have named, and I have told you that. Three thousand dollars to three dollars. One thousand to one. You have three dollars? Mr. Stebbins can hold the stakes.”

Cramer looked at Stebbins. Purley grunted. Cramer looked at me. I grinned and said, “For God’s sake grab it. A thousand to one? Give me that odds and I’ll bet you I did it myself.”

“That’s not as funny as you think it is, Goodwin. You could have.” Cramer looked at Wolfe. “You know I know you. You know I never yet saw you open a bag and shake it out without hanging on to a corner that had something in it you were saving for yourself. If you’re backing clear out, if you’ve got no client and no fee in sight, why do you want the reports on their movements from two o’clock Thursday to three o’clock Sunday?”

“To exercise my brain.” Wolfe put the stack of bills on the desk and put a paperweight — a chunk of jade that a woman had once used to crack her husband’s skull — on top. “It needs it, heaven knows. As I said, I want a crumb of satisfaction for myself. Do you believe in words of honor?”

“I do when the honor is there.”

“Am I a man of honor?”

Cramer’s eyes widened. He was flabbergasted. He started to answer and stopped. He had to consider. “You may be, at that,” he allowed. “You’re tricky, you’re foxy, you’re the best liar I know, but if anybody asked me to name something you had done that was dishonorable I’d have to think.”

“Very well, think.”

“Skip it. Say you’re a man of honor. What about it?”

“Regarding the reports I have asked for, to exercise my brain on. I give you my word of honor that I have no knowledge, withheld from you, which can be applied to those reports; that when I inspect them I’ll have no relevant facts that you don’t have.”

“That sounds good.” Cramer stood up. “I was going home, and now this. I’ve heard you sound good before. Who’s at my desk, Purley? Rowcliff?”

“Yes, sir.” Stebbins was up too.

“Okay, let’s get started. Come on, Goodwin, get your hat if you’ve got one big enough.”

I knew that was coming. It would probably go on all night, and my style would be cramped because if they got exasperated Wolfe wouldn’t get the reports to exercise his brain on. I didn’t even remark that I didn’t wear a hat when I went slumming.

Chapter 14

That was twenty minutes past ten Monday night. At six o’clock Wednesday afternoon, when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms, I had just finished typing the last of the timetables and had them ready for him.

It had taken that long to fill his order, for three reasons. First, the city and county employees hadn’t got started on the trails of the Jarrells until Tuesday morning, and each of the subjects was given two sittings before Cramer got the results. Second, Cramer didn’t decide until Wednesday noon that he would let Wolfe have it, though I had known darned well he would, since it included nothing he wanted to save, and since he was curious to see what Wolfe wanted with it. And third, after I had been given permission to look at a selected collection of the reports, it took quite a job of digging to get what Wolfe wanted, not to mention my own contributions and the typing after I got home.

I can’t tell you what Wolfe did Tuesday and Wednesday because I wasn’t there to see, but if you assume that he did nothing whatever I won’t argue — that is, nothing but eat, sleep, read, drink beer, and play with orchids. As for me, I was busy. Monday night they kept me at 20th Street — Rowcliff and a Sergeant Coffey — until four o’clock in the morning, going over it back and forth and across and up and down, and when they got through they knew every bit as much as Cramer and Stebbins had already known when they took me down. Rowcliff could not believe that he wasn’t smart enough to maneuver me into leaking what I was at Jarrell’s for, and I didn’t dare to make it clear to him in words he would understand for fear he might see to it that Wolfe didn’t get what he wanted for brain exercise. So daylight was trying to break through at my windows when I turned in.