A corner of Wolfe’s mouth went up. “You know Mr. Wragg, I am both able and willing to relieve your mind, but first I must be assured that I have done my job. Have you accepted my offer? Do you assure me that from six o’clock this afternoon there will be no surveillance of any kind by your bureau of Mrs. Bruner or anyone connected with her?”
“Yes. That’s settled.”
“Satisfactory. Now I ask you to make another engagement. I want you to return here, when requested by me, and bring the bullet which one of your men picked up on the floor of Morris Althaus’s apartment.”
It probably wasn’t easy to faze Richard Wragg. You don’t get to be the top G-man at the most important spot, next to Washington, if you faze easy. But that got him. His mouth came open. It took him only two seconds to close it, but he had been fazed.
“Now you’re not talking sense,” he said.
“But I am. If you’ll bring me that bullet when I ask for it, it is next to certain — I am tempted to say certain — that I can establish that Althaus was not killed by one of your men.”
“God, you’re raw.” Wragg’s mouth wasn’t open now. His eyes were narrowed to slits. “If I had such a bullet I might bring it just to call you.”
“Oh, you have it.” Wolfe was patient. “What happened that night in Althaus’s apartment? A person I’ll call X–I could give a better name, for now X will do — shot him with his own gun. The bullet went through him to the wall and fell to the floor. X departed, taking the gun. Soon your three men arrived, entering just as they entered this house last night. Shall I go into detail?”
“Yes.”
“Here they didn’t ring the bell because it was known, so they thought, that the house was empty. It had been under surveillance for a week. They rang Althaus’s bell, and probably his telephone, but he didn’t answer because he was dead. After they had searched the apartment and got what they had come for, it occurred to them that you would suspect that one of them had killed him, and as evidence that they hadn’t they took the bullet, which was there on the floor. They violated a law of the State of New York, but they had already violated one, why not another? They took it and gave it to you with their report.”
He flipped a hand. “Possibly their bringing the bullet, instead of convincing you of their innocence, had the opposite effect, but I won’t speculate about your mental processes, why you didn’t believe them. As I said, you know your men. But of course you still have the bullet, and I’m going to want it.”
Wragg’s eyes had stayed narrow. “Listen, Wolfe. You trapped us once, damn you. You trapped us good. But not again. If I had that bullet I wouldn’t be sap enough to give it to you.”
“You will be a sap if you don’t.” Wolfe made a face. There are a few slang words he likes and uses, but “sap” isn’t one of them, and he had uttered it. He straightened his face. “I concern myself with this because I have an obligation — to the person from whom I learned that your men were there that night — and I don’t like obligations. Exposing the murderer will cancel that debt and, incidentally, relieve your mind. Wouldn’t you like it to be established that Althaus was not killed by one of your men? Bring me that bullet, and it will be. I make another offer: bring me that bullet, and if your men are not cleared within a month by disclosure of the murderer I’ll give you those credentials. It shouldn’t take a month, probably not even a week.”
Wragg’s eyes were open. “You’ll return the credentials?”
“Yes.”
“You say ‘disclosure.’ Disclosed to whom?”
“To you. Disclosed sufficiently to convince you that your men are innocent — of murder, that is.”
“You make an offer. What guarantee would I have?”
“My word.”
“How good is your word?”
“Better than yours. Much better, if that book is to be believed. No man alive can say that I have ever dishonored my word.”
Wragg ignored the dig. “When would you want the bullet — if I had it?”
“I don’t know. Possibly later today. Or tomorrow. I would want to receive it from your hands.”
“If I had it.” Wragg stood up. “I have some thinking to do. I’m promising nothing. I’ll—”
“But you are. You have. No surveillance of my client or me.”
“That, yes. I mean — you know what I mean.” He moved, then stopped and turned. “You’ll be here all day?”
“Yes. But if you telephone, my line is tapped.”
He didn’t think that was funny. I doubt if he would have thought anything whatever was funny. As I followed him to the hall and held his coat and handed him his hat, he didn’t even know I was there. When I turned from shutting the door behind him I saw the client entering the office, Saul at her heels, and I decided not to marry her. She should have waited for me to come and escort her. When I reached the office there was a tableau. Mrs. Bruner and Saul were standing side by side at Wolfe’s desk, looking down at him, and he was leaning back with his eyes closed. It was a nice picture, and I stopped at the door to enjoy it. Half a minute. A full minute. That was enough, since she had appointments, and as I crossed to them I asked, “Could you hear all right?”
Wolfe’s eyes opened. Not answering me, she told him, “You’re an incredible man. Utterly incredible. I didn’t really think you could do it. Incredible. Is there anything you couldn’t do?”
He straightened up. “Yes, madam,” he said, “there is. I couldn’t put sense in a fool’s brain. I have tried. I could mention others. You understand why it was desirable for you to come. The letter you signed says ‘if you get the result I desire.’ Are you satisfied?”
“Of course I am. Incredible.”
“I find it a little hard to believe, myself. Please sit down. There is something I must tell you.”
“There certainly is.” She went to the red leather chair. Saul went to a yellow one and I to mine. She asked, “What was the trap you set?”
Wolfe shook his head. “Not that. That can wait. Mr. Goodwin will give you the details at your and his convenience. I must tell you not what has been done but what should now be done. You are my client and I must protect you from embarrassment. How discreet are you?”
She frowned. “Why do you ask that?”
“Please answer it. How discreet are you? Can you be trusted with a secret?”
“Yes.”
His head turned. “Archie?”
Damn him anyway. It was all right to embarrass me. What if I changed my mind again and decided to marry her?
“Yes,” I said, “if I know where you’re headed, and I think I do.”
“Of course you do.” To her: “I wish to save you the embarrassment of having your secretary taken from your office by the police, perhaps in your presence, to be questioned regarding a murder which she probably committed.”
He had only fazed Wragg, but that staggered the client. Her mouth didn’t drop open; she just stared, speechless.
“I say probably,” Wolfe said, “but it is barely short of certainty. The victim was Morris Althaus. Mr. Goodwin will give you the details of this too, but not now, not until the situation has been resolved. I would have preferred not to give you even the bare fact now, but as my client you merit my protection. I wish to make a suggestion.”
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “I want the details now.”
“You won’t get them.” He was curt. “I have had a trying week, and night, and day. If you make this difficult too I’ll leave the room and you’ll leave the house, and probably question Miss Dacos. That will alarm her and she’ll skedaddle, and after the police find her and bring her back they will have questions for you — civil questions, but many of them. Do you want that?”