Might as Well Be Dead

“Your presentment is faulty,” Wolfe objected. “No robbery is contemplated. However, I am quite willing to consider other alternatives. The decision, of course, is mine. Mr. Herold gave me the job of finding his son, and it is wholly in my discretion whether to inform him that the job is done.”

He stopped to drink some beer. Freyer said, “As the son’s attorney, I have some voice in the matter.”

Wolfe put the glass down and passed his tongue over his lips. “No, sir. Not on this specific question. However, though you have no voice you certainly have an interest, and it deserves to be weighed. We’ll look at it first. Those two alternatives, telling my client that his son is found, or telling him that I withdraw from my job, call them A and B. If A, my surmise is that you would be through. He would come to see his son, and survey the situation, and decide whether to finance an appeal. If he decided no, that would end it. If he decided yes, he would probably also decide that you had mishandled the case and he would hire another lawyer. I base that on the impression I got of him. Archie?”

“Right.” I was emphatic.

Wolfe returned to Freyer. “And if B, you’d be left where you are now. How much would an appeal cost?”

“That depends. A lot of investigation would be required. As a minimum, twenty thousand dollars. To fight it through to the end, using every expedient, a lot more.”

“Your client can’t furnish it?”

“No.”

“Can you?”

“No.”

“Then B is no better for you than A. Now what about me? A should be quite simple and satisfactory. I’ve done a job and I collect my fee. But not only must I pay my bills, I must also sustain my self-esteem. That man, your client, has been wounded in his very bowels, and to add insult to his injury as a mere mercenary would be a wanton act. I can’t afford it. Even if I must gainsay Rochefoucauld, who wrote that we should only affect compassion, and carefully avoid having any.”

He picked up his glass, emptied it, and put it down. “Won’t you have some beer? Or something else?”

“No, thank you. I never drink before cocktail time.”

“Coffee? Milk? Water?”

“No, thanks.”

“Very well. As for B, I can’t afford that either. I’ve done what I was hired to do, and I intend to be paid. And I have another reason for rejecting B. It would preclude my taking any further interest in this affair, and I don’t like that. You said yesterday that you are convinced that your client is innocent. I can’t say that I am likewise convinced, but I strongly suspect that you’re right. With reason.”