The League Of Frightened Men Part 15

The clothing, I am proud of."

"Yes, the clothing." Wolfe looked him over. "Excellent. Where did you get it?"

"A second-hand store on Grand Street.

I changed in a subway toilet, and so was properly dressed when I went to rent a ^ room on the lower West Side." "And you left your second pipe at I home. You have estimable qualities, Mr.

Hibbard."

"I was desperate."

"A desperate fool is still a fool. What, in your desperation, did you hope to * accomplish? Did your venture pretend to any intelligent purpose?"

Hibbard had to consider. He swallowed some whiskey, washed it off with fizz, and coated that with another sip of whiskey. * He finally said, "So help me, I don't * know. I mean I don't know now. When I left home, when I started this, all that I felt moving me was fear. The whole long 1 story of what that unlucky episode, twenty-five years ago of what it did to me, would sound fantastic if I tried to tell it. I was too highly sensitized in spots; I suppose I still am, doubtless it will show again in the proper surroundings. I am inclining now to the environmental school you hear that? Atavism! Anyhow, fear had me, and all I was aware of was a desire to get near Paul Chapin and keep him under my eye. I had no plans, further than that. I wanted to watch him. I knew if I told anyone, even Evelyn my niece, there would be danger of his getting onto me, so I made a thorough job of it. But the last few days I have begun to suspect that in some gully of my mind, far below consciousness, was a desire to kill him. Of course there is no such thing as a desire without an intention, no matter how nebulous it may be. I believe I meant to kill him. I believe I have been working up to it, and I still am. I have no idea what this talk with you will do to me. I see no reason why it should have any effect one way or another."

"You will see, I think." Wolfe emptied his gla.s.s. "Naturally you do not know that Mr. Chapin has mailed verses to your friends stating explicitly that he killed you by clubbing you over the head."

"Oh yes. I know that."

"The devil you do. Who told you?"

"Pit. Pitney Scott."

I gritted my teeth and wanted to bite myself. Another chance underplayed, and all because I had believed the cripple's warning. Wolfe was saying: "Then you did keep a bridge open."

"No. He opened it himself. The third day I was around there I met him face to face by bad luck, and of course he recognized me." Hibbard suddenly stopped, and turned a little pale. "By heaven ha, there goes another illusion I thought Pit..."

"Quite properly, Mr. Hibbard. Keep your illusion; Mr. Scott has told us nothing; it was Mr. Goodwin's acuteness of observation, and my feeling for phenomena, that uncovered you. But to resume: if you knew that Mr. Chapin had sent those verses, falsely boasting of murdering you, it is hard to see how you could keep your respect for him as an a.s.sa.s.sin. If you knew one of his murders, the latest one, to be nothing but rodomontade..."

Hibbard nodded. "You make a logical point, certainly. But logic has nothing to do with it. I am not engaged in developing a scientific thesis. There are twenty-five years behind this... and Bill Harrison, Gene Dreyer... and Paul that day in the courtroom... I was there, to testify to the psychological value of his book... It was on the day that Pit Scott showed me those verses about me sucking air in through my blood that I discovered that I wanted to kill Paul, and if I wanted it I intended it, or what the devil was I doing there?"

Wolfe sighed. "It is a pity. The backseat driving of the less charitable emotions often makes me wonder that the brain does not desert the wheel entirely, in righteous exasperation. Not to mention their violent and senseless oscillations. Run Hibbard, three weeks ago you were filled with horrified aversion at the thought of engaging me to arrange that Mr. Chapin should account legally for his crimes; today you are determined to kill him yourself. You do intend to kill him?" I think so." The psychological runt Put his whiskey gla.s.s on the desk. "That doesn't mean that I will. I don't know. I intend to."

"You are armed? You have a weapon?"

"No. I... no."

"You what?"

"Nothing. I should have said, he. He is physically a weakling." ' "Indeed." The shadows on Wolfe's face altered; his cheeks were unfolding. "You will rip him apart with your bare hands.

Into quivering b.l.o.o.d.y fragments..."

"I might," Hibbard snapped. "I don't know whether you taunt me through ignorance or through design. You should know that despair is still despair, even when there is an intellect to perceive it and control its hysteria. I can kill Paul Chapin and still know what I am doing. My physical build is negligible, next to contemptible, and my mental equipment has reached the decadence which sneers at the blood that feeds it, but in spite of those incongruities I can kill Paul Chapin.

I think I understand now why it was such a relief to be able to talk again in my proper person, and I thank you for it. I think I needed to put this determination into words. It does me good to hear it.

Now I would like you to let me go. I can go on, of course, only by your sufferance. You have interfered with me, and frankly I'm grateful for it, but there I is no reason -"

"Mr. Hibbard." Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "Permit me. The least offensive way of refusing a request is not to let it be made. Don't make it. Wait, please.

There are several things you either do not know or fail to consider. For instance, do you know of an arrangement I have entered into with your friends?"

"Yes. Pit Scott, told me. I'm not interested -"

"But I am. In fact I know of nothing else, at the moment, that interests me in the slightest degree; certainly not your recently acquired ferocity. Further, do you know that there, on Mr. Goodwin's desk, is the typewriter on which Mr. Chapin wrote his sanguinary verses? Yes, it was at the Harvard Club; we negotiated a trade. ^o you know that I am ready for a complete penetration of Mr. Chapin's defenses, in spite of his pathetic bravado?

Do you know that within twenty-four hours I shall be prepared to submit to you and your friends a confession from Mr.

Chapin of his guilt, and to remove satisfactorily all your apprehensions?"

Hibbard was staring at him. He emptied his whiskey gla.s.s, which he had been holding half full, and put it on the desk, and stared at Wolfe again. "I don9! believe it."

"Of course you do. You merely don't want to. I'm sorry, Mr. Hibbard, you'll have to readjust yourself to a world of words and compromises and niceties of conduct. I would be glad well?"

He stopped to look at Fritz, who had appeared on the threshold. Wolfe glanced at the clock; it was seven-twenty-five. He said, "I'm sorry, Fritz. Three of us will dine, at eight o'clock. Will that be possible?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. As I was saying, Mr.

Hibbard, I would like to help make the readjustment as pleasant as possible for you, and at the same time serve my own convenience. The things I have just told you are the truth, but to help me in realizing the last one I shall need your co-operation. I mentioned twenty-four hours. I would like to have you remain here as my guest for that period. Will 1 you?"

Hibbard shook his head, with emphasis. (I don't believe you. You may have the typewriter, but you don't know Paul Chapin as I do. I don't believe you'll get* him to confess, ever in G.o.d's world."

"I a.s.sure you, I will. But that can be; left to the event. Will you stay here until I tomorrow evening, and communicate with no one? My dear sir. I will bargain with a you. You were about to make a request of me. I counter with one of my own. I Though I am sure twenty-four hours will ^ do, let us allow for contingencies; make it forty-eight. If you will agree to stay under j this roof incommunicado until Monday evening, I engage that at that time, if I have not done as I said and closed the Chapin account forever, you will be free to resume your whimsical adventure without fear of any betrayal from us. Do I need to add a recommendation of our discretion and intelligence?"

As Wolfe finished speaking Hibbard unaccountably burst into laughter. For a runt he had a good laugh, deeper than his voice, which was baritone but a little thin.

When he had laughed it out he said, I was thinking that you probably have an adequate bathtub."

"We have."

"But tell me this. I am still learning. If I refused, if I got up now to walk out, what would you do?"

"Well... you see, Mr. Hibbard, it is important to my plans that your discovery should remain unknown until the proper moment; Certain shocks must be administered to Mr. Chapin, and they must be well timed. There are various I ways of keeping a desired guest. The most amiable is to persuade him to accept an invitation; another would be to lock him up."

Hibbard nodded. "You see? What did I tell you? You see how people go ahead and do things they feel like doing?

Miraculous!"

"It is indeed. And now the bathtub, if we are to dine at eight. Archie if you would show Mr. Hibbardthe south room, the one above mine. * *,,., I got up. "It'll be clammy as the devil, it hasn't been used... he can have mine..."

"No Fritz has aired it and the heat is on; it has been properly Prepared, even to Bra.s.socattlaelias Truffautianas m the bowl "

"Oh." I grinned. "You had it prepared."

"Certainly. Mr. Hibbard. Come down when you are ready. I warn you I am prepared to demonstrate that the eighth and ninth chapters of The Chasm of the Mind are mystic nonsense. If you wish to repel my attack, bring your wits to the table."

I started out with Hibbard, but Wolfe's voice came again and we turned. "You understand the arrangement, sir; you are to communicate with no one whatever.

Away from your masquerade, the desire to rea.s.sure your niece will be next to irresistible."

"I'll resist it."

Since it was two flights up, I took him to Wolfe's elevator. The door of the south room stood open, and the room was nice and warm. I looked around: the bed had been made, comb and brush and nail file were on the dresser, orchids were in the bowl on the table; fresh towels were in the bathroom. Not bad for a strictly male household. I went out, but at the door was stopped by Hibbard: "Say. Do you happen to have a dark brown necktie?"

I grinned and went to my room and picked out a genteel solid-color, and took it up to him.

Down in the office Wolfe sat with his eyes shut. I went to my desk. I was sore as h.e.l.l. I was still hearing the tone of Wolfe's voice when he said, "Sixty-five hours," and though I knew the reproach had been for himself and not for me, I didn't need a whack on the s.h.i.+ns to inform me that I had made a bad fumble. I sat and considered the general and particular shortcomings of my conduct. Finally I said aloud, as if to myself, not looking at him: "The one thing I won't ever do again is believe a cripple. It was all because I believed that d.a.m.n warning. If it hadn't been imbedded in my nut that Andrew Hibbard was dead, I would have been receptive to a decent suspicion no matter where it showed up. I suppose that goes for Inspector Cramer too, and I suppose that means that I'm of the same general order as he is. In that case -"

"Archie." I glanced at Wolfe enough to see that he had opened his eyes. He went on, "If that is meant as a defense offered to me, none is needed. If you are merely rubbing your vanity to relieve a soreness, please defer it. There is still eighteen minutes before dinner, and we might as well make use of them. I am suffering from my habitual impatience when nothing remains but the finis.h.i.+ng touches. Take your notebook."

I got it out, and a pencil.

"Make three copies of this, the original on the good bond. Date it tomorrow, November eleventh ha, Armistice Day! iMost appropriate. It will have a heading L- caps as follows: CONFESSION OF Since it was two flights up, I took him to Wolfe's elevator. The door of the south room stood open, and the room was nice and warm. I looked around: the bed had been made, comb and brush and nail file were on the dresser, orchids were in the bowl on the table; fresh towels were in the bathroom. Not bad for a strictly male household. I went out, but at the door was stopped by Hibbard: "Say. Do you happen to have a dark brown necktie?"

I grinned and went to my room and picked out a genteel solid-color, and took it up to him.

Down in the office Wolfe sat with his eyes shut. I went to my desk. I was sore as h.e.l.l. I was still hearing the tone of Wolfed voice when he said, "Sixty-five hours," and though I knew the reproach had been for himself and not for me, I didn't need a whack on the s.h.i.+ns to inform me that I had made a bad fumble. I sat and considered the general and particular shortcomings of my conduct. Finally I said aloud, as if to myself, not looking at him: "The one thing I won't ever do again is believe a cripple. It was all because I believed that d.a.m.n warning. If it hadn't been imbedded in my nut that Andrew Hibbard was dead, I would have been receptive to a decent suspicion no matter where it showed up. I suppose that goes for Inspector Cramer too, and I suppose that means that I'm of the same general order as he is. In that case -"

"Archie." I glanced at Wolfe enough to see that he had opened his eyes. He went on, "If that is meant as a defense offered to me, none is needed. If you are merely rubbing your vanity to relieve a soreness, please defer it. There is still eighteen minutes before dinner, and we might as well make use of them. I am suffering from my habitual impatience when nothing remains but the finis.h.i.+ng touches. Take your notebook."

I got it out, and a pencil.

"Make three copies of this, the original on the good bond. Date it tomorrow, November eleventh ha, Armistice Day! Most appropriate. It will have a heading caps as follows: CONFESSION OF PAUL CHAPIN REGARDING THE.

DEATHS OF WILLIAM R. HARRISON.

AND EUGENE DREYER AND THE.

WRITING AND DISPATCHING OF.

CERTAIN INFORMATIVE AND.

THREATENING VERSES.

It is a concession to him to call them verses, but we should be magnanimous somewhere, let us select that for it. There will then be divisions, properly s.p.a.ced and subheaded.

The subheadings will also be in caps. The first one is DEATH OF WILLIAM R.

HARRISON. Then begin... thus -9f *al interrupted. "Listen, wouldn't it be fitting to type this on the machine from the Harvard Club? Of course it's crummy, but it would be a poetic gesture..."

"Poetic? Oh. Sometimes, Archie, the _ a.s.sociation of your ideas reminds me of a hummingbird. Very well, you may do that. Let us proceed." When he was giving me a doc.u.ment Wolfe usually began slow and speeded up as he went along. He began, "I, Paul Chapin, of 203 Perry Street, New York City, hereby confess that -"

The telephone rang.

I put my notebook down and reached for it. My practice was to answer calls by saying crisp but friendly, "h.e.l.lo, this is the office of Nero Wolfe." But this time I didn't get to finish it. I got about three words out, but the rest of it was stopped by an excited voice in my ear, excited but low, nearly a whisper, fast but trying to make it plain: "Archie, listen. Quick, get it, I may be pulled off. Get up here as fast as you can Doc Burton's, Ninetieth Street.

Burton's croaked. The lop got him with a Is gat, pumped him full. They got him clean, I followed him -" j There were noises, but no more words.

That was enough to last a while, anyway.

I hung up and turned to Wolfe. I suppose my face wasn't very placid, but the expression on his didn't change any as he looked at me. I said, "That was Fred Durkin. Paul Chapin has just shot Dr.

Burton and killed him. At his apartment on Ninetieth Street. They caught him redhanded.

Fred invites me up to see the show."

I Wolfe sighed. He murmured, i "Nonsense."

"Nonsense h.e.l.l. Fred's not a genius, but I never saw him mistake a pinochle game for a murder. He's got good eyes. It looks like tailing Chapin wasn't such a bad idea after all, since it got Fred there on the spot. We've got him -" I ^Archie. Shut up." Wolfe's lips were pus.h.i.+ng out and in as fast as I had ever seen them. After ten seconds he said, "Consider this, please. Durkin's conversation was interrupted?"

"Yeah, he was pulled off."

"By the police, of course. The police take Chapin for murdering Burton; he is convicted and executed, and where are we? What of our engagements? We are lost." T I stared at him. "Good G.o.d. d.a.m.n that _ cripple -" I "Don't d.a.m.n him. Save him. Save him for us. The roadster is in front? Good. Go there at once, fast. You know what to do, get it, the whole thing. I need the scene, the minutes and seconds, the partic.i.p.ants I need the facts. I need enough of them to save Paul Chapin. Go and get them."

I jumped.

17.

I kept on the west side as far as Eightysixth Street and then shot crosstown and through the Park. I stepped on it only up to the limit, because I didn't want to get stopped. I felt pretty good and pretty rotten, both. She had cracked wide open and I was on my way, and that was all sweetness and light, but on the other hand Fred's story of the event decorated by Wolfe's comments looked like nothing but bad weather. I swung left into Fifth Avenue, with only five blocks to go. _I pulled up short of the Burton number on Ninetieth Street, locked the ignition and jumped to the sidewalk. There were Ganopies and entrances to big apartment houses all around. I walked east. I was nearly to the entrance I was headed for ^hen I saw Fred Durkin. From somewhere he came trotting towards me. I stopped, and he jerked his head back and started west, and I went along behind him. I followed him to the corner of Fifth, and around it a few feet.

I said, "Am I poison? Spill it."

He said, "I didn't want that doorman to see you with me. He saw me getting the b.u.m's rush. They caught me phoning you and kicked me out."

"That's too bad. I'll complain at headquarters. Well?"

"Well, they've got him, that's all. We followed him up here, the town d.i.c.k and me, got here at seven-thirty. It was nice and private, without Pinkie. Of course we knew who lived here, and we talked it over whether we ought to phone and decided not to. We decided to go inside the lobby, and when the hall flunkey got unfriendly Murphy that's the town d.i.c.k flashed his badge and shut him up.

People were going and coming, there's two elevators. All of a sudden one of the elevator doors bangs open and a woman comesi;.running out popeyed and yells where's Dr. Foster, catch Dr. Foster, and the hall flunkey says he just saw him go out, and the woman runs for the street yelling Dr. Foster, and Murphy nabs her by the arm and asks why not try Dr.

Burton, and she looks at him funny and says Dr. Burton's been shot. He turns her loose and jumps for the elevator, and on the way up to the fifth floor discovers that Pm in it with him. He says -"

"Come on, for Christ's sake."

"Okay. The door of Burton's apartment is open. The party's in the first room we go into. Two women is there, one of them whining like a sick dog and jiggling a telephone, and the other one kneeling by a guy laying on the floor. The lop is sitting in the chair looking like he's waiting his turn in a barber shop. We got busy. The guy was dead. Murphy got on the phone and I looked around. A gat, a Colt automatic, was on the floor by the leg of a chair next to a table in the-middle of the room. I went over and gave Chapin a rub to see if he had any more tools. The ^oman that was kneeling by the meat began to heave and I went and got her up ^d led her away. Two men came in, a ih L.

doctor and a house guy. Murphy got through on the phone and came over and slipped some irons on Chapin. I stayed with the woman, and when a couple of precinct cops came loping in I took the woman out of the room. The woman that had gone for Dr. Foster came back, she came running through the place and took the other woman away from me and took her off somewhere. I went into another room and saw books and a desk and a telephone, and called you up. One of the precinct men came snooping around and heard me, and that's when I left. He brought me downstairs and gave me the air."