Skinner was ready to melt with sweetness; his tone sounded like Romeo in the balcony scene.
“Listen, Wolfe, play with us.
Let us have that Your man can type it, or he can dictate from his notes and I’ll bring a man in to take it.
Clivers is to sail for Europe Sunday.
If we don’t get this thing on ice there’s going to be trouble.”
Wolfe closed his eyes, and after a moment opened them again.
They were all gazing at him, Cramer slowly chewing his cigar, Hombert holding in an explosion. Skinner looking innocent and friendly.
Wolfe said,
“Will you make a bargain with me, Mr. Skinner?
Let me ask a few questions.
Then, after considering the replies, I shall do what I can for you.
I think it is more than likely you will find me helpful.”
Skinner frowned.
“What kind of questions?”
“You will hear them.”
A pause.
“All right.
Shoot.”
Wolfe turned abruptly to the inspector.
“Mr. Cramer.
You had a man following Mr. Walsh from the time you released him this afternoon, and that man was on post at the entrance of the boarding on Fifty-fifth Street.
I’d like to know what it was that caused him to cross the street and enter the enclosure, as reported in the Gazette.
Did he hear a shot?”
“No.” Cramer took his cigar from his mouth. “The man’s out in the kitchen.
Do you want to hear it from him?”
“I merely want to hear it.”
“Well, I can tell you.
Stebbins was away from his post for a few minutes, he’s admitted it.
There was a taxi collision at the corner of Madison, and he had to go and look it over, which was bright of him.
He says he was away only two minutes, but he may have been gone ten, you know how that is.
Anyhow, he finally strolled back, on the south side of Fifty-fifth, and looking across at the entrance of the boarding he saw the door slowly opening, and the face of a man looked out and it wasn’t Walsh.
There were pedestrians going by, and the face went back in and the door closed.
Stebbins got behind a parked car.
In a minute the face looked out again, and there was a man walking by, and the face disappeared again.
Stebbins thought it was time to investigate and crossed the street and went in, and it was just lousy luck that that damn newspaper cockroach happened to see him.
It was Clivers all right, and Walsh’s body was there on the ground—”
“I know.” Wolfe sighed.
“It was lying in front of the telephone. So Mr. Stebbins heard no shot.”
“No.
Of course, he was down at the corner and there was a lot of noise.”
“To be sure.
Was the weapon on Lord Clivers’ person?”
“No.” Cramer sounded savage. “That’s one of the nice details.
We can’t find any gun, except one in Walsh’s pocket that hadn’t been fired.
There’s a squad of men still up there, combing it.
Also there’s about a thousand hollow steel shafts sticking up from the base construction, and it might have been dropped down one of those.”
“So it might,” Wolfe murmured. “Well … no shot heard, and no gun found.” He looked around at them. “I can’t help observing, gentlemen, that that news relieves me enormously.
Moreover, I think you have a right to know that Mr. Goodwin and I heard the shot.”
They stared at him.
Skinner demanded,