I was on my way and kept going. He started after me, but with slow acceleration, so I went through the open door unimpeded. It was a large room, full of noise, cookery smells, and activity. Without coming to a stop I inquired above the noise, "Did a cat come in here?" They stared at me and a couple shook their heads. There was one with a loaded tray, in waiter's uniform, headed for a swinging door, and I got on his heels and followed him through. At the other end of a pantry corridor another swinging door let us into the restaurant proper-purple and yellow leather, gleaming chromium, gleaming white tables-with waiters fussing around waiting for the evening's customers. One of them blocked me and I snapped at him, "Catching a cat," and went on around. In the foyer the sucker usher gave me an astonished look and the hat-check girl started for me instinctively, but I merely repeated, "Catching a cat," and kept going, on through two more doors and then up to the sidewalk.
I was, of course, on 49th Street. My impulse was to hoof it around a couple of corners to 48th Street and get the roadster, but it was parked only a few yards from the entrance to Miltan's, so I voted unanimously for discretion and hopped into a taxi. On its cushion, bumping along downtown on Park Avenue, I maintained the discretion by not attempting to explore my overcoat pocket, considering that if things got complicated and aggravating enough the taxi-driver might be asked questions about what he had seen in his mirror. So I just sat and let him bump me down to 35th Street and cross-town to the number of Wolfe's house.
As I passed through the front hall I tossed my hat on a hook, but kept my overcoat on. In the office Wolfe sat at his desk, and in front of him was the metal box that was kept on a shelf in the safe, to which he alone had a key, and which he had never opened in my presence. I had always supposed that it contained papers too private even for me, but for all I knew it might have been stuffed with locks of hair or the secret codes of the Japanese Army. He put something into it and shut the lid and frowned at me.
"Well?" he demanded.
I shook my head. "No soap. I might have been able to bring her if I had had a chance to exert my charm, but on account of circumstances beyond my control-"
"Circumstances forcing you to return here alone?"
"Not exactly forcing, no, sir. You may remember that on the phone I mentioned a bird named Percy Ludlow who said that your daughter was getting his cigarettes out of his coat at his request. Well, somebody murdered him."
Wolfe glared. "I am not in a mood for buffoonery."
"Neither am I. I ruined my coat falling off of a fence on purpose. At two minutes after six Miss Lovchen and Miss Tormic were upstairs giving fencing lessons and various other people were doing other things. Miss Tormic was supposed to be giving a lesson to Percy Ludlow. I was downstairs in the office with Mr and Mrs Miltan. We heard yells and ran up two flights into a commotion of assorted people. In the fencing room at the end we found Percy Ludlow on the floor with an йpйe running through him from front to back and eight inches beyond. Miltan stayed there on guard and his wife went to the office to phone for the police and I took charge of the front door. The first two cops on the scene were radio patrol, the next three were precinct bums, and the homicide squad arrived around six twenty-four."
"Well?"
"That's all."
"All?" Wolfe was as nearly speechless as I had ever seen him. "You-" He sputtered. "You were right there, inside there, and you deliberately ran away-"
"Wait a minute. Not deliberately. A cop relieved me at the door and another one took me with him to the office where the inmates had gathered. I happened to be standing near the rack where I had hung my coat and I noticed that the pocket was bulging open on account of something in it. When I had hung the coat up the pocket had been empty. Maybe someone had merely mistaken it for the waste-basket. On the other hand, there was a murderer in the room, and Miss Tormic had presumably been fencing with the victim, and I was there as the representative of Miss Tormic. The attitude that might be adopted by the homicide squad in face of those facts would certainly be distasteful, in case there was a general search and the object in my pocket wasn't waste paper. So I descended to the basement and left by the back door and fell over a fence and took a taxi."
"And what was the object?"
"I don't know." I removed my coat and spread it on his desk. "I thought it would be more fun to look at it with you. To the tips of my fingers it felt like a piece of canvas." I was widening the mouth of the pocket and peeping in. "Yep, it's canvas." I inserted fingers and thumb and eased it out. It was rolled tight. As I unrolled it, it became a heavy canvas gauntlet, with reinforced palm, and a little metal dingus slid off on to the desk.
"Let's don't touch that," I suggested, and bent over to inspect it. At its middle it was about a quarter of an inch thick. At one end it had three claws, or fingers, and at the other it tapered to a single point, sharp as an ice-pick. I straightened up with a nod.
"Uh-huh, I thought so."
"What the devil is it?"
"My God, look at it! It's the col de mart!"
"Confound you, Archie-"
"Okay, but let it alone." I told him about the disappearance of the curio from Miltan's cabinet and the history of it. He listened with his lip compressed.
When I was through he demanded, "And you think this was used-"
"I know damn well it was. The end of the йpйe that killed Ludlow was blunt, and Miltan said it couldn't possibly have been thrust through him that way. So this thing was removed afterwards. It looks as if it would slide right off. I doubt if I need to point out those stains on the glove where this was wrapped up in it."
"Thank you. I can see."
"And you can also see that it is a woman's glove. It looks big on account of the way it's made, but it's not big enough-"
"I can see that, too."
"And can you see that if I had stayed there and that contraption had been found in my pocket, or if I had tried to hide it-?"
I stopped because his lips were working and he had shut his eyes. It didn't take long, maybe thirty seconds, then he reached for the button and pushed it. When Fritz appeared he was in a cap and apron similar to those worn by the man in the court who hadn't seen my wife's cat.
"Turn out the light in the hall and do not answer the door," Wolfe told him.
"Yes, sir."
"If the phone rings, answer it in the kitchen. Archie is not here, and you don't know where he is or when he will return. I am engaged and cannot be disturbed. Draw the heavy curtains in the front and the dining-room, but first-is there a full loaf of the Italian round?"
"Yes, sir."
"Bring it, please, with a small knife and a roll of waxed paper."
When Fritz left I followed him, to hang my coat in the hall and shoot the bolt on the front door. As I returned I flipped the light switch, and in a moment Fritz returned with the required articles on a tray. Wolfe told him to stand by and then attacked the loaf of bread with the knife, which, of course, was like a razor, as Fritz's knives always were. He described a circle four inches in diameter in the centre of the loaf, and then dug in, excavating a neat round hole clear to the bottom crust, but leaving the crust intact. Next he picked up the col de mort with the tips of his fingers, placed it on the palm of the glove, rolled the glove up tight, wrapped it in some waxed paper, and stuffed it into the hole in the loaf. He filled the extra space with wads of paper, and spread a sheet of paper smoothly over the top. With his swift and dexterous fingers, the entire operation consumed not over three minutes.
He told Fritz, "Make a chocolate icing, at once, and cover this well. Put it in the refrigerator. Dispose of the bread scraps."