The Rubber Band

No reply, no acknowledgment. I added, “Which is more than you are.”

That met with the same lack of encouragement. I waited a courteous in terval and resumed, “The poor old fellow would give anything in the world to forestall unpleasant publicity for the Seaboard Products Corporation– Just think what he has sacrificed! He has spent the best part oЈ his life building up that business, and I’ll bet his share of the profits is no more than a measly half a million a year. But what I want to know—”

“Shut up, Archie.” Wolfe’s eyes opened. “I can do without that now.” He grimaced at his empty glass. “I am atrociously uncomfortable. It is sufficiently a

That proved to be a job. Cramer’s extension seemed to be permanently busy. After five or six tries I finally got it, and was told by someone that Cramer wasn’t there. He had left shortly after seven o’clock, and it wasn’t known where he was, and he had left no word about any expected message from Nero Wolfe. Wolfe received the information standing up, for Fritz had appeared to a

Wolfe shook his head. “No. The police are there, and if there is anything to hear we shall hear it later by reaching Mr. Cramer, without exposing ourselves.” He moved to the door. “There is no necessity for Joh

I performed the errands.

At the di

With the coffee he told her that the larceny charge had been dropped.

She opened her eyes and her mouth both. “No, really? Then I can go!”

She stopped herself and put out a hand to touch his sleeve, and color came to her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t mean … that was terrible, wasn’t it? But you know how I feel, hiding …”

“Perfectly.” Wolfe nodded. “But I’m afraid you must ask us to tolerate you a little longer. You can’t go yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because, first, you might get killed. Indeed, it is quite possible, though I confess not very likely. Second, there is a development that must sdll be awaited. On that you must trust me. I know, since Archie told you of Lord Clivers’ statement that he has paid—”

I didn’t hear the finish, because the doorbell rang and I wasn’t inclined to delay about answering it. I was already on pins and I would soon have been on needles if something hadn’t happened to open things up. I loped down the hall.

It was only Joh

I said, “No, I’m blind. Seen what?”

He pulled a newspaper from his pocket and stuck it at me. “I was going to a movie on Broadway and they were yelling this extra, and I was nearby so I thought it would be better to run over with it than to phone—”

I had looked at the headlines. I said, “Go to the office. No, go to the kitchen. You’re on the job, my lad. Satisfactory.”

I went to the dining room and moved Wolfe’s coffee cup to one side and spread the paper in front of him. “Here,” I said, “here’s that development you’re awaiting.” I stood and read it with him while Clara Fox sat and looked at us.

MARQUIS ARRESTED!

BRITAIN ’S ENVOY FOUND STANDING OVER, MURDERED MAN’

Gazette Reporter Witnesses Unprecedented Drama!

At 7:05 this evening the Marquis of Clivers, special envoy of Great Britain to this country, was found by a city detective, within the cluttered enclosure of a building under construction on 5501 Street, Manhattan, standing beside the body of a dead man who had just been shot through the back of the head. The dead man was Michael Walsh, night watchman. The detective was Purley Stebbins of the Homicide Squad.

At 7:00 a Gazette reporter, walking down Madison Avenue, seeing a crowd collected at 5501 Street, stopped to investigate. Finding that it was only two cars with shattered windshields and other minor damages from a collision, he strolled on, turning into 55th. Not far from the corner he saw a man stepping off the curb to cross the street. He recognized the man as Purley Stebbins, a city detective, and was struck by something purposeful in his gait. He stopped, and saw Stebbins push open the door of a board fence where a building is being constructed.

The reporter crossed the street likewise, through curiosity, and entered the enclosure after the detective. He ventured further, and saw Stebbins grasping by the arm a man elegantly attired in evening dress, while the man tried to pull away. Then the reporter saw something else: the body of a man on the ground.

Advancing close enough to see the face of the man in evening dress and recognizing him at once, the reporter was quick-witted enough to call sharply, “Lord Clivers!”

The man replied, “Who the devil are you?”

The detective, who was feeling the man for a weapon, instructed the reporter to telephone headquarters and get Inspector Cramer. The body was lying in such a position that the reporter had to step over it to get at the telephone on the wall of a wooden shed. Meanwhile Stebbins bad blown his whistle and a few moments later a patrolman in uniform entered. Stebbins spoke to him, and the patrolman leaned over the body and exclaimed, “It’s the night watchman, old Walsh!”

Having phoned police headquarters, the reporter approached Lord Clivers and asked him for a statement. He was brushed aside by Stebbins, who commanded him to leave. The reporter persisting, Stebbins instructed the patrolman to put him out, and the reporter was forcibly ejected.

The superintendent of the construction, reached on the telephone, said that the name of the night watchman was Michael Walsh. He knew of no possible co

No information could be obtained from the suite of Lord Clivers at the Hotel Portland.

At 7:30 Inspector Cramer and various members of the police force had arrived on the scene at 55th Street, but no one was permitted to enter the enclosure and no information was forthcoming.

There was a picture of Clivers, taken the preceding week on the steps of the White House.

I was raving. If only I had gone up there! I glared at Wolfe. “Be prudent! Don’t expose ourselves! I could have been there in ten minutes after that phone call! Great God and Jehosaphat!”

I felt a yank at my sleeve and saw it was Clara Fox. “What is it? What—”