Champagne for One

The show started. It did seem fairly nutty, at that, especially my part. Hackett pouring, and Cecil carrying, and the girls taking-there was nothing odd about that; but me racing around, taking the second glass, deciding what to do with it, doing it, and getting to the next one in time to be there waiting when Cecil arrived-of all the miscellaneous chores I had performed at Wolfe’s direction over the years, that took the prize. At the fourth and last one, for Celia Grantham, by the wall to the right of Wolfe’s desk, Cecil cheated. After he had handed his sister hers he ignored my out-stretched hand, raised his glass, said, "Here’s to crime," and took a mouthful of the bubbles. He lowered the glass and told Wolfe, "I hope that didn’t spoil it."

"It was in bad taste," Celia said.

"I meant it to be," he retorted. "This whole thing has been in bad taste from the beginning."

Wolfe, who had straightened up to watch the performance, let his shoulders down. "You didn’t spoil it," he said. His eyes went around. "I invite comment. Did anyone notice anything worthy of remark?"

"I don’t know whether it’s worthy of remark or not," Paul Schuster, the lawyer, said, "but this exhibition can’t possibly be made the basis for any conclusion. The conditions were not the same at all."

"I must disagree," Wolfe disagreed. "I did get a basis for a conclusion, and for the specific conclusion I had hoped for. I need support for it, but would rather not suggest it. I appeal to all of you: did anything about Mr Grantham’s performance strike your eye?"

A growl came from the door to the hall. Sergeant Purley Stebbins was standing there on the sill, his big frame half filling the rectangle. "I don’t know about a conclusion," he said, "but I noticed that he carried the glasses the same every time. The one in his right hand, his thumb and two fingers were on the bowl and the one in his left hand, he held that lower down, by the stem. And he kept the one in his right hand and handed them the one in his left hand. Every time."

I had never before seen Wolfe look at Purley with unqualified admiration. "Thank you, Mr Stebbins," he said. "You not only have eyes but know what they’re for. Will anyone corroborate him?"

"I will," Saul Panzer said. "I do." He was still holding the glass Cecil had handed him.

"Will you, Mr Cramer?"

"I reserve it." Cramer’s eyes were narrowed at him. "What’s your conclusion?"