Rex Stout: Before Midnight

“No,” Hansen said. “Pat?”

“No.”

“But,” Hansen told Wolfe, “we still want you to handle the contest. The payment will of course be in addition to the bill you’re sending. It won’t be—”

“No!” Wolfe bellowed, and I didn’t blame him. Turning down fifty grand just once to keep your dignity in order is tough enough, and to be compelled to keep on turning it down is too much. They tried to insist, and Heery especially wouldn’t let go, but finally they had to give it up. When they left and I went to the hall with them they corralled me by the rack and tried to sell me the idea of talking him into it, with some broad hints that it wouldn’t cost me anything, but I gave them no hope. My mind wasn’t really on their problem at all. It was on one of my own, and when I had closed the door behind them and returned to the office I tackled it without preamble.

“Okay,” I told Wolfe, “it was a brilliant stroke. It was a masterpiece. It was a honey. But not only did you change the rules and tell me a direct lie, you also piled another one on by telling me that you had not changed the rules. How’s that for a confidential relationship? Why do I ever have to believe anything you say?”

His mouth twisted. He thought he was smiling. “You can always believe me, Archie. With your memory, which is matchless, you can recall my words. I made just two categorical statements to you, when we were alone, on that matter. I said, first, I hadn’t hoped for anything as provocative as this . That was true; I hadn’t hoped for it; I was sure of it, since I had arranged it. I said, second, I hadn’t listed this among the possibilities . That was likewise true; it wasn’t a possibility, it was a certainty. I have never told you a direct lie and never will — and if I quibbled it was only to save you the necessity of telling one to Mr. Stebbins or any one else who might challenge you. Have I quoted myself correctly?”

I grunted. I couldn’t very well repudiate my matchless memory.

“Are you suggesting,” he demanded, “that verbal dodges are no longer to be permitted in our private conversations? By either of us?”

“No, sir.”

He snorted. “You’d better not. We wouldn’t last a week.”

He rang for beer.