Rex Stout - The League of Frightened Men

Wolfe murmured, “I am gratified at the interest they displayed.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Bascom laid a fist on the desk for emphasis and got more earnest still. “Mr. Wolfe. I want to speak to you as one professional man to another. You would be the first to agree that ours is a dignified profession.”

“Not explicitly. To assert dignity is to lose it.”

“Huh? Maybe. Anyway, it’s a profession, like the law. As you know, it is improper for a lawyer to solicit a client away from another lawyer. He would be disbarred. No lawyer with any decency would ever try it. And don’t you think our profession is as dignified as the law? That’s the only question. See?”

Bascom waited for an answer, his eyes on Wolfe’s face, and probably supposed that the slow unfolding on Wolfe’s cheeks was merely a natural phenomenon, like the ground swell on an ocean. Wolfe finally said, “Mr. Bascom. If you would abandon the subtleties of innuendo? If you have a request to make, state it plainly.”

“Hell, didn’t I? I asked you to lay off.”

“You mean, keep out of what you call the Chapin case? I am sorry to have to refuse your request.”

“You won’t?”

“Certainly not.”

“And you think it is absolutely okay to solicit another man’s clients away from him?”

“I have no idea. I shall not enter into a defense of my conduct with you; what if it turned out to be indefensible? I merely say, I refuse your request.”

“Yeah. I thought you would.” Bascom took his fist off the desk and relaxed a little. “My brother claimed you regarded yourself as a gentleman and you’d fall for it. I said you might be a gentleman but you wasn’t a sap.”

“Neither, I fear.”

“Well and good. Now that that’s out of the way, maybe we can talk business. If you’re going to take on the Chapin case, that lets us out.”

“Probably. Not necessarily.”

“Oh yes, it does. You’ll soak them until they’ll have to begin buying the cheaper cuts. I know when I’m done, I can take it. I couldn’t hang onto it much longer anyhow. God help you. I’d love to drop in here once a week and ask you how’s tricks. I’m telling you, this cripple Chapin is the deepest and slickest that’s ever run around loose. I said I had it about sewed up. Listen. There’s not the faintest chance. Not the faintest. I had really given that up, and had three men tailing him to catch him on the next one — and by God there goes Hibbard and we can’t even find what’s left of him, and do you know what? My three men don’t know where Chapin was Tuesday night! Can you beat it? It sounds dumb, but they’re not dumb, they’re damn good men. So as I say, I’d love to drop in here—”

Wolfe put in, “You spoke of talking business.”

“So I did. I’m ready to offer you a bargain. Of course you’ve got your own methods, we all have, but in these four weeks we’ve dug up a lot of dope, and it’s cost us a lot of money to get it. It’s confidential naturally, but if your clients are the same as mine that don’t matter. It would save you a lot of time and expense and circling around. You can have all the dope and I’ll confer with you on it any time, as often as you want.” Bascom hesitated a moment, wet his lips, and concluded, “For one thousand dollars.”

Wolfe shook his head gently. “But, Mr. Bascom. All of your reports will be available to me.”

“Sure, but you know what reports are. You know, they’re all right, but oh hell. You would really get some dope if I let you question any of my men you wanted to. I’d throw that in.”

“I question its value.”

“Oh, be reasonable.”

“I often try. I will pay one hundred dollars for what you offer. Please! I will not haggle. And do not think me discourteous if I say that I am busy and need all the time the clock affords me. I thank you for your visit, but I am busy.” Wolfe’s fingers moved to indicate the books before him on the desk, one of them with a marker in it. “There are the five novels written by Paul Chapin; I managed to procure the four earlier ones yesterday evening. I am reading them. I agree with you that this is a difficult case. It is possible, though extremely unlikely, that I shall have it solved by midnight.”

I swallowed a grin. Wolfe liked bravado all right; for his reputation it was one of his best tricks.

Bascom stared at him. After a moment he pushed his chair back and got up, and the dick next to me lifted himself with a grunt. Bascom said, “Don’t let me keep you. I believe I mentioned we all have our own methods, and all I’ve got to say is thank God for that.”

“Yes. Do you wish the hundred dollars?”

Bascom, turning, nodded. “I’ll take it. It looks to me like you’re throwing the money away, since you’ve already bought the novels, but hell I’ll take it.”

I went across to open the door, and they followed.

By dinner time Monday we were all set, so we enjoyed the meal in leisure. Fritz was always happy and put on a little extra effort when he knew things were moving in the office. That night I passed him a wink when I saw how full the soup was of mushrooms, and when I tasted the tarragon in the salad dressing I threw him a kiss. He blushed. Wolfe frequently had compliments for his dishes and expressed them appropriately, and Fritz always blushed; and whenever I found occasion to toss him a tribute he blushed likewise, I’d swear to heaven, just to please me, not to let me down. I often wondered if Wolfe noticed it. His attention to food was so alert and comprehensive that I would have said off hand he didn’t, but in making any kind of a guess about Wolfe off hand wasn’t good enough.

As soon as dinner was over Wolfe went up to his room, as he had explained he would do; he was staging it. I conferred with Fritz in the kitchen a few minutes and then went upstairs and changed my clothes. I put on the gray suit with pin checks, one of the best fits I ever had, and a light blue shirt and a dark blue tie. On my way back down I stopped in at Wolfe’s room, on the same floor, to ask him a question. He was in the tapestry chair by the reading lamp with one of Paul Chapin’s novels, and I stood waiting while he marked a paragraph in it with a lead pencil.

I said, “What if one of them brings along some foreign object, like a lawyer for instance? Shall I let it in?”

Without looking up, he nodded. I went down to the office.

The first one was early. I hadn’t looked for the line to start forming until around nine, but it lacked twenty minutes of that when I heard Fritz going down the hall and the front door opening. Then the knob of the office door turned, and Fritz ushered in the first victim. He almost needed a shave, his pants were baggy, and his hair wasn’t combed. His pale blue eyes darted around and landed on me.

“Hell,” he said, “you ain’t Nero Wolfe.”

I admitted it. I exposed my identity. He didn’t offer to shake hands. He said:

“I know I’m early for the party. I’m Mike Ayers, I’m in the city room at the Tribune. I told Oggie Reid I had to have the evening off to get my life saved. I stopped off somewhere to get a pair of drinks, and after a while it occurred to me I was a damn fool, there was no reason why there shouldn’t be a drink here. I am not referring to beer.”

I said, “Gin or gin?”

He grinned. “Good for you. Scotch. Don’t bother to dilute it.”

I went over to the table Fritz and I had fixed up in the alcove, and poured it. I was thinking, hurrah for Harvard and bright college days and so on. I was also thinking, if he gets too loud he’ll be a nuisance but if I refuse to pander to his vile habit he’ll beat it. And having learned the bank reports practically by heart, I knew he had been on the Post four years and the Tribune three, and was pulling down ninety bucks a week. Newspapermen are one of my weak spots anyhow; I’ve never been able to get rid of a feeling that they know things I don’t know.