Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 02 (7 page)

Wolfe raised his head a little and said in one of his best tones, “Are you suggesting those additions to Mr. Chapin’s catalogue of his internal menagerie?”

“Huh? Oh. I’m suggesting—”

George Pratt said, “Shut up, Mike,” and Farrell the architect grabbed him and pulled him into a chair.

I had handed Wolfe a list showing those who were present, and he had glanced over it. He looked up and spoke. “I am glad to see that Mr. Cabot and Mr. Adler are here. Both, I believe, attorneys. Their knowledge and their trained minds will restrain us from vulgar errors. I note also the presence of Mr. Michael Ayers, a journalist. He is one of your number, so I merely remark that the risk of publicity, should you wish to avoid it—”

Mike Ayers growled, “I’m not a journalist, I’m a newshound. I interviewed Einstein—”

“How drunk are you?”

“Hell, how do I know?”

Wolfe’s brow lifted. “Gentlemen?”

Farrell said, “Mike’s all right. Forget him. He’s all right.”

Julius Adler the lawyer, about the build of a lead-pencil stub, looking like a necktie clerk except for his eyes and the way he was dressed, put in, “I would say yes. We realize that this is your house, Mr. Wolfe, and that Mr. Ayers is lit, but after all we don’t suppose that you invited us here to censor our private habits. You have something to say to us?”

“Oh, yes …”

“My name is Adler.”

“Yes, Mr. Adler. Your remark illustrates what I knew would be the chief hindrance in my conversation with you gentlemen. I was aware that you would be antagonistic at the outset. You are all badly frightened, and a frightened man is hostile almost by reflex,
as a defense. He suspects everything and everyone. I knew that you would regard me with suspicion.”

“Nonsense.” It was Cabot, the other lawyer. “We are not frightened, and there is nothing to suspect you of. If you have anything to say to us, say it.”

I said, “Mr. Nicholas Cabot.”

Wolfe nodded. “If you aren’t frightened, Mr. Cabot, there is nothing to discuss. I mean that. You might as well go home.” Wolfe opened his eyes and let them move slowly across the eleven faces. “You see, gentlemen, I invited you here this evening only after making a number of assumptions. If any one of them is wrong, this meeting is a waste of time, yours and mine. The first assumption is that you are convinced that Mr. Paul Chapin has murdered two, possibly three, of your friends. The second, that you are apprehensive that unless something is done about it he will murder you. The third, that my abilities are equal to the task of removing your apprehension; and the fourth, that you will be willing to pay well for that service. Well?”

They glanced at one another. Mike Ayers started to get up from his chair and Farrell pulled him back. Pratt muttered loud enough to reach Wolfe, “Good here.” Cabot said:

“We are convinced that Paul Chapin is a dangerous enemy of society. That naturally concerns us. As to your abilities …”

Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. “Mr. Cabot. If it amuses you to maintain the fiction that you came here this evening to protect society, I would not dampen the diversion. The question is, how much is it worth to you?”

Mike Ayers startled all of us with a sudden shout, “Slick old Nick!” and followed it immediately with a falsetto whine, “Nicky darling …” Farrell poked him in the ribs. Someone grumbled, “Gag him.” But
the glances of two or three others in the direction of Cabot showed that Wolfe was right; the only way to handle that bird was to rub it in.

A new voice broke in, smooth and easy. “What’s the difference whether we’re scared or not?” It was Edwin Robert Byron, the magazine editor. “I’d just as soon say I’m scared, what’s the difference? It seems to me the point is, what does Mr. Wolfe propose to do about it? Grant him his premise—”

“Grant hell.” Mike Ayers got up, flinging his arm free of Farrell’s grasp, and started for the table in the alcove. Halfway there he turned and blurted at them, “You’re damned tootin’ we’re scared. We jump at noises and we look behind us and we drop things, you know damn well we do. All of you that didn’t lay awake last night wondering how he got Andy and what he did with him, raise your hands. You’ve heard of our little organization, Wolfe you old faker? The League of Atonement? We’re changing it to the Craven Club, or maybe the League of the White Feather.” He filled his glass and lifted it; I didn’t bother to call to him that he had got hold of the sherry decanter by mistake. “Fellow members! To the League of the White Feather!” He negotiated the drink with one heroic swallow. “You can make mine an ostrich plume.” He scowled, and made a terrific grimace of disgust and indignation. “Who the hell put horse manure in that whiskey?”

Farrell let out a big handsome guffaw, and Pratt seconded him. Drummond the florist was giggling. Bowen the stockbroker, either bored or looking successfully like it, took out a cigar and cut off the end and lit it. I was over finding the right bottle for Mike Ayers, for I knew he’d have to wash the taste out of his mouth. Lee Mitchell of Boston got to his feet:

“If I may remark, gentlemen.” He coughed. “Of
course I am not one of you, but I am authorized to say that both Mr. Collard and Mr. Gaines are in fact apprehensive, they have satisfied themselves of the standing of Mr. Wolfe, and they are ready to entertain his suggestions.”

“Good.” Wolfe’s tone cut short the buzz of comment. He turned his eyes to me. “Archie. If you will just pass out those slips.”

I had them in the top drawer of my desk, twenty copies just in case, and I took them and handed them around. Wolfe had rung for beer and was filling his glass. After he had half emptied it he said:

“That, as you see, is merely a list of your names with a sum of money noted after each. I can explain it most easily by reading to you a memorandum which I have here … or have I? Archie?”

“Here it is, sir.”

“Thank you.—I have dictated it thus; it may be put into formal legal phrasing or not, as you prefer. I would be content to have it an initialed memorandum. For the sake of brevity I have referred to you, those whose names are on the list you have—those absent as well as those present—as
the league.
The memorandum provides:

1. I undertake to remove from the league all apprehension and expectation of injury from
   

   • (a) Paul Chapin
     .
     

   • (b) The person or persons who sent the metrical typewritten warnings
     .
     

   • (c) The person or persons responsible for the deaths of Wm. R. Harrison and Eugene Dreyer, and for the disappearance of Andrew Hibbard
     .
     

2. Decision as to the satisfactory performance of
   the undertaking shall be made by a majority vote of the members of the league
   .
   

3. The expenses of the undertaking shall be borne by me, and in the event of my failure to perform it satisfactorily the league shall be under no obligation to pay them, nor any other obligation
   .
   

4. Upon decision that the undertaking has been satisfactorily performed, the members of the league will pay me, each the amount set after his name on the attached list; provided, that the members mil be severally and jointly responsible for the payment of the total amount.
   

“I believe that covers it. Of course, should you wish to make it terminable after a stated period—”

Nicholas Cabot cut in, “It’s preposterous. I won’t even discuss it.” Julius Adler said with a smile, “I think we should thank Mr. Wolfe’s secretary for adding it up and saving us the shock. Fifty-six thousand, nine hundred and fifteen dollars. Well!” His brows went up and stayed up. Kommers, who had spent at least ten bucks coming from Philadelphia, made his maiden speech, “I don’t know much about your abilities, Mr. Wolfe, but I’ve learned something new about nerve.” Others began to join in the chorus; they were just going to crowd us right in the ditch.

Wolfe waited, and in about a minute put up his hand, palm out, which was a pretty violent gesture for him. “Please, gentlemen. There is really no ground for controversy. It is a simple matter: I offer to sell you something for a stated price on delivery. If you think the price exorbitant you are under no compulsion to buy. However, I may observe in that connection that on Saturday Miss Evelyn Hibbard offered to pay me
ten thousand dollars for the service proposed. There is no single item on that list as high as ten thousand dollars; and Miss Hibbard is not herself in jeopardy.”

George Pratt said, “Yeah, and you turned her down so you could soak us. You’re just out to do all the good you can, huh?”

“Anyhow, the memorandum is preposterous throughout.” Nicholas Cabot had gone to Wolfe’s desk and reached for the memorandum, and was standing there looking at it. “What we want is Paul Chapin put where he belongs. This attempt at evasion—”

“I’m surprised at you, Mr. Cabot.” Wolfe sighed. “I phrased it that way chiefly because I knew two shrewd lawyers would be here and I wished to forestall their objections. Circumstances have got the idea of Paul Chapin’s guilt so firmly fixed in your mind that you are a little off balance. I could not undertake specifically to remove your apprehension by getting Mr. Chapin convicted of murder, because if I did so and investigation proved him innocent two difficulties would present themselves. First, I would have to frame him in order to collect my money, which would be not only unfair to him but also a great bother to me, and second, the real perpetrator of these indiscretions would remain free to continue his career, and you gentlemen would still be scared—or dead. I wished to cover—”

“Rubbish.” Cabot pushed the memorandum impatiently away. “We are convinced it is Chapin. We know it is.”

“So am I.” Wolfe nodded, down, and up, and at rest again. “Yes, I am convinced that it is Chapin you should fear. But in preparing this memorandum I thought it well to cover all contingencies, and you as a lawyer must agree with me. After all, what is really known? Very little. For instance, what if Andrew Hibbard,
tormented by remorse, was driven to undertake vengeance on behalf of the man you all had injured?
Ye should have killed me.
What if, after killing two of you, he found he couldn’t stomach it, and went off somewhere and ended his own life? That would contradict nothing we now know. Or what if another of you, or even an outsider, proceeded to balance some personal accounts, and took advantage of the exudations of the Chapin stew to lay a false scent? That might be you, Mr. Cabot, or Dr. Burton, or Mr. Michael Ayers … anyone. You say rubbish, and really I do too, but why not cover the contingencies?”

Cabot pulled the memorandum back beneath his eyes. Julius Adler got up and went to the desk and joined in the inspection. There was some murmuring among the others. Mike Ayers was sprawled in his chair with his hands deep in his pockets and his eyes shut tight. Julius Adler said:

“This last provision is out of the question. This joint responsibility for the total amount. We wouldn’t consider it.”

Wolfe’s cheeks unfolded a little. “I agree with you, Mr. Adler. I shall not insist upon it. As a matter of fact, I inserted it purposely, so there would be something for you to take out.”

Adler grunted. Drummond the florist, who had gone to join them, as had Pratt and Arthur Kommers, giggled again. Cabot looked at Wolfe with a frown and said, “You aren’t at all nimble, are you?”

“Moderately. I’m really not much good at negotiation, I am too blunt. It is a shortcoming of temperament not to be overcome. For instance, my proposal to you. I can only present it and say, take it or leave it. I compensate for the handicap by making the proposal so attractive that it cannot very well be refused.”

I was surprised, all of a sudden, to see the shadow of a smile on Cabot’s face, and for a second I damn near liked him. He said, “Of course. I sympathize with your disability.”

“Thank you.” Wolfe moved his eyes to take in the others. “Well, gentlemen? I will mention two little points. First, I did not include in the memorandum a stipulation that you should co-operate with me, but I shall of course expect it. I can do little without your help. I would like to feel free to have Mr. Goodwin and another of my men call upon you at any reasonable time, and I would like to talk with a few of you myself. I may?”

Three or four heads nodded. George Pratt, with the group at the desk, said, “Good here.” Cabot smiled openly and murmured, “Don’t forget your disability.”

“Good. The second point, about the money. In my opinion, the sums I have listed are adequate but not extortionate. If I fail to satisfy you I get nothing, so it comes to this: would Mr. Gaines be willing at this moment to pay me eight thousand dollars, and Dr. Burton seven thousand, and Mr. Michael Ayers one hundred and eighty, in return for a guarantee of freedom from the fear which has fastened itself upon them? I take it that you agree that it is proper to have the amounts graded in accordance with ability to pay.”

Again heads nodded. He was easing them into it; he was sewing them up. I grinned to myself, “Boss, you’re cute, that’s all, you’re just cute.” Lee Mitchell from Boston spoke again:

“Of course I can’t speak definitely for Mr. Collard and Mr. Gaines. I think I may say—you can probably count them in. I’ll go back to Boston tonight and they’ll wire you tomorrow.”

Cabot said, “You can cross Elkus out. He wouldn’t pay you a cent.”

“No?”

“No. He’s as sentimental as Andy Hibbard was. He’d sooner see us all killed than help catch Paul Chapin.”

“Indeed. It is disastrous to permit the vagaries of the heart to infect the mind. We shall see—Gentlemen. I would like to satisfy myself now on one point. Frankly, I do not wish it to be possible for any of you to say, at any time in the future, that I have acted with a ruthlessness or vindictiveness which you did not contemplate or desire. My understanding is that you are all convinced that Paul Chapin is a murderer, that he has threatened you with murder, and that he should be caught, discovered, convicted and executed. I am going to ask Mr. Goodwin to call off your names. If my understanding is correct, you will please respond with
yes.
”