The Second Confesion

“Yes, sir. The repetition will take less time if you don't interrupt. Another point, better than either of those, why was the body dragged more than fifty feet to be concealed behind a shrub? If it had been an accident, and the driver decided not to disclose his part in it, what would he have done? Drag the body off the road, yes, but surely not fifty feet to find a hiding place.” “You said that before too,” Ben Dykes objected. “And I said the same argument would apply just as well to a murderer.” “Yes,” Wolfe agreed, “but you were wrong. The murderer had a sound reason for moving the body where it couldn't be seen from the drive if someone happened to pass.” “What?” “To search the body. We are now coming to things I haven't said before. You preferred not to show me the list of articles found on the body, so I preferred not to tell you that I knew something had been taken from it. The way I knew it was that Mr Goodwin had himself made an inventory when he found the body.” “The hell he had!” “It would have been better,” Archer said in a nasty voice for him, “to tell us that. What had been taken?” “A membership card, in the name of William Reynolds, of the American Communist Party.” “By God!” Sperling cried, and left his chair. There were exclamations from others. Sperling was following him up, but Archer's voice cut through.

“How did you know he had one?” “Mr Goodwin had seen it, and I had seen a photograph of it.” Wolfe pointed a finger. “Please let me tell this without yanking me around with questions. I have to go back to Saturday evening a week ago. Mr Goodwin was there ostensibly as a guest, but actually representing me on behalf of my client, Mr Sperling. He had reason to believe that Mr Rony was carefully guarding some small object, not letting it leave his person. There were refreshments in the living-room. Mr Goodwin drugged his own drink and exchanged it for Mr Rony's. He drank Mr Rony's. But it had been drugged by someone else, as he found to his sorrow.” “Oh!” A little cry came from behind me, in the voice of the little cabbage.

Wolfe frowned past my shoulder.

“Mr Goodwin had intended to enter Mr Rony's room that night to learn what the object was, but didn't because he was himself drugged and Mr Rony was not.