On account of the phone call which took Mr. Scovil to the street to die, it was practically certain that his murderer had known he was in this office; and because, so far as I was aware, Mr. Perry was the only person who had known that, it seemed at least worth while to accept it as a conjecture.
Through Metropolitan Biographies and also through inquiries by one of my men, I got at least negative support for the conjecture; and I got positive support by talking over long distance to Nebraska, with Miss Lindquist’s father.
He remembered with considerable accuracy the appearance of the face and figure of Rubber Coleman, and while of course there could be no real identification by a telephone talk after forty years, still it was support.
I asked Mr. Lindquist, in fact, for descriptions of all the men concerned in that affair, thinking there might be some complication more involved than this most obvious one, but it was his description of Rubber Coleman which most nearly approximated that of Mr, Perry.
The next step—”
“Wait a minute, Wolfe.” Skinner’s croak was imperative. “You can’t do this.
Not this way.
If you’ve got a case, I’m the District Attorney.
If you haven’t-” Perry cut in,
“Let him alone!
Let him hang himself.”
Hombert muttered something to Cramer, and the inspector rumbled back.
Clivers spoke up.
“I’m concerned in this.
Let Wolfe talk.”
He used a finger of his left hand to point at Perry because his right hand was still in his coat pocket.
“That man is Rubber Coleman.
Wolfe learned that, didn’t he?
What the devil have the rest of you done, except annoy me?”
Perry leveled his eyes at the marquis.
“You’re mistaken, Lord Clivers.
You’ll regret this.”
Wolfe had taken advantage of the opportunity to finish his botde and ring for another.
Now he looked around.
“You gendemen may be curious why, if Mr. Perry is not Rubber Coleman, he does not express indignant wonderment at what I am talking about Oh, he could explain that.
Long ago, shordy after she entered Seaboard’s employ, Miss Fox told him the story which you heard from her last night.
He knows all about the Rubber Band, from her, and also about her efforts to find its surviving members.
And by the way, as regards the identity—did Mr. Walsh telephone you around five o’clock yesterday afternoon, Lord Clivers, and tell you he had just found Rubber Coleman?”
Clivers nodded.
“He did.”
“Yes.” Wolfe looked at Cramer. “As you informed me, immediately after leaving the Seaboard office, where he had gone on account of his unfortunate suspicions regarding Miss Fox and myself after Harlan Scovil had been killed, Mr. Walsh sought a telephone.
There—as can doubdess be verified by inquiry, along with multitudinous other details—he had seen Mr. Perry.
It is a pity he did not inform me, since in that case he would still be alive; but what he did do was to phone Lord Clivers, with whom he had had a talk in the morning.
He had called at the Hotel Portland and Lord Clivers had considered it advisable to see him, had informed him of the payment which had been made to Rubber Coleman long before, and had declared his intention of giving him a respectable sum of money.
Now, learning from Mr. Walsh over the telephone that he had found Rubber Coleman, Lord Clivers saw that immediate and purposeful action was required if publicity was to be avoided; and he told Mr. Walsh that around seven o’clock that evening, on his way to a dinner engagement, he would stop in at the place Mr. Walsh was working, which was a short distance from his hotel.
I have been told these details within the last hour.
Is that correct, sir?”
Clivers nodded.
“It is.”
Wolfe looked at Perry, but Perry’s eyes were fixed on Clivers.
Wolfe said,
“So, for the identity, we have Mr. Lindquist’s description, Mr. Walsh’s phone call, and Lord Clivers’ present recognition.
Why, after forty years, Mr. Scovil and Mr. Walsh should have recognized Rubber Coleman is, I think, easily explicable.
On account of the circumstances, their minds were at the moment filled with vivid memories of that old event, and alert with suspicion. They might have passed Mr. Perry a hundred times on the street without a second glance at him, but in the situations in which they saw him recollection jumped for them.”
He looked again at the Seaboard president, and again asked,
“What about it now, Mr. Perry?
Won’t you give us that?”
Perry moved his eyes at him.
He spoke smoothly.
“I’m still not talking.