Over My Dead Body

I gave it to him, in my best style. I knew from the tone Wolfe had taken that the programme was eagerness to oblige in inessentials, so I skipped none of the unimportant details. I covered the route. One of the little cuts I made was the brief passage between the Balkans and me while I was standing guard at the front door. When I got through Cramer asked me some questions that offered no difficulty, ending with a few more jabs regarding what had happened between the time when this and the time when that. My only addition to my former explanation was that I had started to get hungry. He sat a minute and chewed his cigar, frowning, and switched to Wolfe.

"I don't believe it," he said flatly.

"No? What is it you don't believe, Mr Cramer?"

"I don't believe that Goodwin's bughouse. I don't believe he left like that because he was homesick and hungry. I don't believe he went back there to collect a fee from Miss Tormic. I don't believe that as far as you're concerned it's washed up and you're not interested in the murder."

"I haven't said I'm not interested in the murder."

"Ho! Haven't you? Well, are you?"

"Yes." Wolfe grimaced. "Apparently I am. While Archie was on guard at the door Miss Tormic approached and asked him-me-to act in the matter in her interest. He accepted. I am committed, and the amount of profit that may be expected…" He shrugged. "I am committed. That was what happened that made Archie feel he should communicate with me promptly and privately. As you are aware, Mr Cramer, I am quite capable of candour when the occasion presents-"

The inspector clamped his teeth on his cigar and said through them savagely, "I knew it!"

Wolfe's brows went up a millimetre. "You knew?…"