The Second Confesion

Always willing to learn. I approached and watched the operations with deep interest. One who was presumably not a scientist but an executive, since he was just standing looking, inquired, “You doing research?” “No, sir,” I told him. “I smelled blood, and my grandfather was a cannibal.” “Oh, a gag man. You're not needed. Beat it' Not feeling like arguing, I stood and watched. In about ten minutes, not less, he reminded me, “I said beat it.” “Yeah, I know. I didn't think you were serious, because I have a friend who is a lawyer, and that would be silly.” I tilted my head back and sniffed twice.

“Chicken blood. From a White Wyandotte rooster with catarrh. I'm a detective.” I had an impulse to go take a look at the bush where I had found Rony, which looked much closer to the drive than it had seemed last night, but decided that might start a real quarrel, and I didn't want to make enemies. The executive was glaring at me. I grinned at him as a friend and headed back up the drive.

As I mounted the three steps to the wide front terrace a State employee in uniform stepped toward me.

“Your name Goodwin?” I admitted it.

He jerked his head sideways. “You're wanted inside.” I entered and crossed the vestibule to the reception hall. Madeline, passing through, saw me and stopped.

“Your boss wants you.” “The worm. Where, upstairs?” “No, the library. They sent for him and they want you too.” I went to the library.

Wolfe did not have the best chair this time, probably because it had already been taken by Cleveland Archer when he got there. But the one he had would do, and on a little table at his elbow was a tray with a glass and two bottles of beer. Sperling was standing, but after I had pulled up a chair and joined them he sat down too. Archer, who had a table in front of him with some papers on it, was good enough to remember that he had met me before, since of course there was always a chance that I might buy a plot in Westchester and establish a voting residence there.

Wolfe said Archer had some questions to ask me.

Archer, not at all belligerent, nodded at me. “Yes, I've got to be sure the record is straight. Sunday night you and Rony were waylaid on Hotchkiss Road.” It didn't sound like a question, but I was anxious to co-operate, so I said that was right.