Fer-De-Lance

I was too sore to grin. I said, "And still you invite me in here to tea instead of getting a spade and beating it to Agawalk Cemetery. I repeat that I'll tell you nothing and Wolfe will tell you nothing, but if ever you had a sure thing to go on it's right now. The next thing to do is to give me back that check, and then what?"

Derwin let out a sigh and cleared his throat, but he had to clear it again. "Goodwin," he said, "I'll be frank with you. I'm out of my depth. That's not for publication, Ben, but it's a fact anyhow. I'm clear out of my depth. Good Lord, don't you know what it would mean-an exhumation and autopsy on Peter Oliver Barstow?"

I put in, "Rot. Any of a dozen excuses is enough."

"Well, maybe I'm not good at excuses. Anyway, I know that family. I can't do it. I've telephoned Anderson at Lake Placid and couldn't get him. I'll have him before six o'clock, before seven sure. He can take a sleeper and be here tomorrow morning. He can decide it then."

"That lets today out," I said.

"Yes. Not a chance. I won't do it."

"All right." I got up. "I'll go down to the corner and phone Wolfe and see if he'll wait that long, and if he says okay I'll head south away from the hayseeds. I might as well have that check."

Derwin took it from his pocket and handed it to me.

I grinned at Ben Cook. "Shall I give you a lift as far as the station, Chief?"

"Run along, sonny, run along."

CHAPTER 5