“Of course,” Orrie went on, “when you think of ballet you think of girls with legs. This ballet has got 'em all right; that's been checked. Jimmy is interested in ballet or why would he kick in? He goes twice a week when he's in New York. He also is personally interested in seeing that the girls get enough to eat. When I got that far I naturally thought I was on the way to something, and maybe I am but not yet. He likes the girls and they like him, but if that has led to anything he wouldn't want put in the paper it'll have to wait for another instalment because I haven't caught up to it yet. Shall I keep trying?” “You might as well.” Wolfe went to Saul. “Is that all you have?” “No, we've got plenty,” Saul told him, “but nothing you might want except maybe the item I wanted to ask about. Last fall he contributed twenty thousand dollars to the CPBM.” “What's that?” “Committee of Progressive Business Men. One of the funny fronts. It was for Henry Wallace for President.” “Indeed.” Wolfe's eyes, which had been nearly closed, had opened a little. Tell me about it.” “I can't tell you much, because it was afternoon when I scared it up. Apparently nobody was supposed to know about the contribution, but several people do, and I think I can get on to them if you say so. That's what I wanted to ask about. I had a break and got a line on a man in the furniture business who was pro-Wallace at first but later broke loose. He claims to know all about Sperling's contribution. He says Sperling made it in a personal cheque for twenty thousand, which he gave to a man named Caldecott one Thursday evening, and the next morning Sperling came to the CPBM office and wanted his cheque back. He wanted to give it in cash instead of a cheque. But he was too late because the cheque had already been deposited. And here's what I thought made it interesting: this man says that since the first of the year photostats of three different cheques-contributions from three other people-have turned up in peculiar circumstances. One of them was his own cheque, for two thousand dollars, but he wouldn't give me the names of the other two.” Wolfe's brow was wrinkled. “Does he say that the people running the organization had the photostats made for later use-in peculiar circumstances?” “No, sir. He thinks some clerk did it, either for personal use or as a Republican or Democratic spy. This man says he is now a political hermit. He doesn't like Wallace, but he doesn't like Republicans or Democrats either. He says he's going to vote the Vegetarian ticket next time but go on eating meat. I let him talk. I wanted to get all I could because if there was a photostat of young Sperling's cheque-” “Certainly. Satisfactory.” “Shall I follow up?” “By all means. Get all you can. The clerk who had the photostats made would be a find.” Wolfe turned to me. “Archie. You know that young man better than we do.
Is he a ninny?” “If I thought so,” I said emphatically, “I don't now. Not if he's raking in profits on a Boston restaurant and a Manhattan ballet. I misjudged him. Three to one I know where the photostat of Jimmy's cheque is. In a safe at the office of Murphy, Kearfot and Rony.” “I suppose so. Anything else, Saul?” I wouldn't have been surprised if the next item had been that Jimmy had cleaned up a million playing the ponies or running a chicken farm, but evidently he hadn't tried them yet. Saul and Orrie stayed a while, long enough to have a drink and discuss ways and means of laying hands on the Republican or Democratic spy, and then left. When I returned to the office after letting them out I considered whether to get rid of the comments I had prepared regarding the importance of evidence in criminal cases, and decided to skip it.
I would just as soon have gone up to bed to give my bruises a rest, but it was only half-past nine and my middle drawer was stuffed with memos and invoices connected with the repairs on the roof. I piled them on the desk and tackled them. It had begun to look as if Wolfe's estimate of the amount of the damage wasn't far off, and maybe too low if you included replacement of some of the rarer hybrids that had got rough treatment. Wolfe, seeing what I was at, offered to help, and I moved the papers over to his desk. But, as I had often discovered before, a man shouldn't try to run a detective business and an orchid factory at the same time. They're always tripping over each other. We hadn't been at the papers five minutes when the doorbell rang. I usually go when it's after nine o'clock, the hour when Fritz changes to his old slippers, so I went.
I switched on the stoop light, looked through the one-way glass panel, opened the door, said, “Hello, come in,” and Gwenn Sperling crossed the threshold.
I closed the door and turned to her. “Want to see the worm?” I gestured. “That way.” “You don't seem surprised!” she blurted.
“It's my training. I hide it to impiess you. Actually I'm overcome. That way?” She moved and I followed. She entered the office, advanced three steps, and stopped, and I detoured around her.
“Good evening, Miss Sperling,” Wolfe said pointedly. He indicated the red leather chair. That's the best chair.” “Did I phone you I was coming?” she demanded.
“I don't think so. Did she, Archie?” “No, sir. She's just surprised that we're not surprised.” “I see. Won't you sit down?” For a second I thought she was going to turn and march out, as she had that afternoon in the library, but if the motion had been made she voted it down. Her eyes left Wolfe for a look at me, and I saw them stop at my scratched cheek, but she wasn't enough interested to ask who did it. She dropped her fur neckpiece on to a yellow chair, went to the red leather one and sat, and spoke.
“I came because I couldn't persuade myself not to. I want to confess something.”
My God, I thought, I hope she hasn't already signed a statement. She looked harassed but not haggard, and her freckles showed hardly at all in that light “Confessions often help,” Wolfe said, “but it's important to make them to the right person. Am I the one?” “You're just being nice because I called you a worm!” That would be a strange reason for being nice. Anyhow, I'm not. I'm only trying to help you get started.” “You don't need to.” Gwenn's hands were clasped tight. Tve decided. I'm a conceited nosy little fool!” “You use too many adjectives,” Wolfe said dryly. “For me it was cheap filthy little worm. Now, for you, it is conceited nosy little fooL Let's just say fool.
Why? What about?” “About everything. About Louis Rony. I knew darned well I wasn't really in love with him, but I thought I'd teach my father something. If he hadn't had him there he wouldn't have thought he could pique me by playing with Connie Emerson, and she wouldn't have played with him, and he wouldn't have got killed. Even if everything you said about him is true, it's my fault he got killed, and what am I going to do?” Wolfe grunted. “I'm afraid I don't follow you. How was it your fault that Mr Kane went to mail some letters and accidentally ran over Mr Rony?” She stared. “But you know that's not true!” “Yes, but you don't-or do you?” “Of course I do!” Her hands came unclasped. “I may be a fool, I guess I can't go back on that, but I've known Webster a long time and I know he couldn't possibly do such a thing!” “Anyone can have an accident' “I know they can; I don't mean that. But if he had run a car over Louis and saw he was dead, he would have gone back to the house, straight to a phone, and called a doctor and the police. You've met him. Couldn't you see he was like that?” This was a new development, a Sperling trying to persuade Wolfe that Kane's statement was a phony.