As a matter or fact, there isi No one’s ready for a scrap but everyone wants to hit first.
Whoever lands at this port nowadays, you can be sure there’s someone around that’s got it in for him.”
“It might be better if everybody stayed at home.”
“Huh?
Oh.
That’s their business.
Anyway, that’s the background.
A cou pie of weeks ago a man called the Marquis of Clivers came here from England.”
“I know.
I’ve read about him.”
“Then you know what he came for.”
Wolfe nodded.
“In a general way.
A high diplomatic mission.
To pass out slices of the Orient.”
“Maybe, I’m not a politician, I’m a cop.
I was when I pounded the pavement thirty years ago, and I sdll am.
But the Marquis of Clivers seems to be as important as almost anybody.
I understand we get the dope on that from the Department of State.
When he landed here a couple of weeks ago we gave him protection, and saw him off to Washington.
When he came back, eight days ago, we did the same.”
“The same?
Do you mean you have men with him constantly?”
Cramer shook his head.
“Not constantly.
All public appearances, and a sort of general eye out.
We have special men.
If we notice anything or hear of anything that makes us suspicious, we’re on the job.
That’s what I’m coming to.
At five-thirty-five tnis afternoon, just four blocks from here, a man was shot and killed.
In his pocket he had a paper—”
Wolfe showed a palm.
“I know all about that, Mr. Cramer.
I know the man’s name, I know be had left my office only a few minutes before he was killed, and I know that the name of the Marquis of Clivers was on the paper.
The detective that was here, Mr. Foltz I believe his name was, showed it to me.”
“Oh.
He did.
Well?”
“Well… I saw the names on the paper.
My own was among them.
But, as I explained to Mr. Foltz, I had not seen the man.
He had arrived at our office, unexpected and unannounced, and Mr. Goodwin had—”
“Yeah.”
Cramer took his cigar from his mouth and hitched forward.
“Look here, Wolfe. I don’t want to get into a chinning match with you, you’re better at it than I am, I admit it.
I’ve talked with Foltz, I know what you told him.
Here’s my position: there’s a man in this town representing a foreign government on important business, and I’m responsible both for his safety and his freedom from annoyance.
A man is shot down on the street, and on a paper in his pocket we find the name of the Marquis of Clivers, and other names.
Naturally I wouldn’t mind knowing who killed Harlan Scovil, but finding that name there makes it a good deal more than just another homicide.
What’s the connection and what does it mean?