The Second Confesion

When the door had closed behind him Sperling looked down at Wolfe and demanded, “What good did that do?” Wolfe grunted. “None at all. It did harm. It made it impossible for me, when I return home, to forget all this and set about restoring my plants.” He slanted his head back to get Sperling's face. “He must owe you a great deal-or he would hate to lose his job. How did you get him to sign that statement?” “I didn't get him to. As it says, he wrote and signed it of his own free will.” Tfui. I know what it says. But why should I believe that when I don't believe anything in it?” “You're not serious.” Sperling smiled like an angel. “Kane is one of this country's leading economists. Would a man of his reputation and standing sign such a statement if it weren't true?” “Whether he would or not, he did.” Wolfe was getting peevish. “With enough incentive, of course he would; and you have a good supply. You were lucky he was around, since he was ideal for the purpose.” Wolfe waved a hand, finishing with Mr Kane. “You handled it well; that statement is admirably drafted. But I wonder if you fully realize the position you've put me in?” “Of course I do.” Sperling was sympathetic. “You engaged to do a job and you did it well. Your performance here yesterday afternoon was without a flaw. It persuaded my daughter to drop Rony, and that was all I wanted. The accident of his death doesn't detract from the excellence of your job.” “I know it doesn't,” Wolfe agreed, “but that job was finished. The trouble is, you hired me for another job, to investigate Mr Rony's death. I now-” “That one is finished too.” “Oh, no. By no means. You've hoodwinked Mr Archer by getting Mr Kane to sign that statement, but you haven't gulled me.” Wolfe shook his head and sighed. “I only wish you had.” Sperling gazed at him a moment, moved to the chair Archer had used, sat, leaned forward, and demanded, “Listen, Wolfe, who do you think you are, Saint George?” “I do not.” Wolfe repudiated it indignantly. “No matter who killed a wretch like Mr Rony, and whether by accident or design, I would be quite willing to let that false statement be the last word. But I have committed myself. I have lied to the police. That's nothing, I do it constantly. I warned you last night that I withhold information from the police only when it concerns a case I'm engaged on; and that commits me to stay with the case until I am satisfied that it's solved. I said you couldn't hire me one day and fire me the next, and you agreed. Now you think you can. Now you think you can drop me because I can no longer get you in a pickle by giving Mr Archer a true account of the conversation in this room yesterday afternoon, and you're right. If I went to him now and confessed, now that he has that statement, he would reproach me politely and forget about it. I wish I could forget about it too, but I can't.