Nor a menagerie—since Mr. Muir is plainly a lecherous hyena.
Bring Lord Clivers.”
I went through the connecting door to the front room, and Clivers looked around, surprised at my entering from a new direction.
He was jumpy.
I pointed him ahead and he stopped on the threshold and glanced around before venturing in.
Then he moved spryly enough and walked over to the desk.
Wolfe took him in with his eyes half shut, and nodded.
“How do you do, sir.”
Wolfe indicated the chair Muir had just vacated.
“Be seated.”
Clivers did a slow-motion circle.
He turned all the way around, encompassing with his eyes the bookshelves, the wall maps, the Holbein reproductions, more bookshelves, the three-foot globe on its stand, the engraving of Brillat-Savarin, more bookshelves, the picture of Sherlock Holmes above my desk.
Then he sat down and looked at me with a frown and pointed a thumb at me.
“This young man,” he said.
Wolfe said,
“My confidential assistant, Mr. Goodwin.
There would be no point in sending him out, for he would merely find a point of vantage we have prepared, and set down what he heard.”
“The devil he would.”
Clivers laughed three short blasts, haw-haw-haw, and gave me up.
He transferred the frown to Wolfe.
“I received your letter about that horse.
It’s preposterous.”
Wolfe nodded.
“I agree with you.
All debts are preposterous.
They are the envious past clutching with its cold dead fingers the throat of the living present.”
“Eh?” Clivers stared at him. “What kind of talk is that?
Rot.
What I mean to say is, two hundred thousand pounds for a horse.
And uncollectible.”
“Surely not.” Wolfe sighed.
He leaned forward to press the button for Fritz, and back again. “The best argument against you is your presence here.
If it is uncollectible, why did you come?
Will you have some beer?”
“What kind of beer?”
“American.
Potable.”
“I’ll try it.
I came because my nephew gave me to understand that if I wanted to see you I would have to come.
I wanted to see you because I had to learn if you are a swindler or a dupe.”
“My dear sir.” Wolfe lifted his brows. “No other alternatives?
Another glass and bottle, Fritz.” He opened his and poured. “But you seem to be a direct man.
Let’s not get mired in irrelevancies.
Frankly, I am relieved.
I feared that you might even dispute the question of identity and create a lot of unnecessary trouble.”
“Dispute identity?” Clivers glared. “Why the devil should I?”
“You shouldn’t, but I thought you might.
You were, forty years ago in Silver City, Nevada, known as George Rowley?”
“Certainly I was.
Thanks, I’ll pour it myself.”