I then saw Thumbs Meeker being self-conscious. There were three vacant chairs, not counting Fabian’s. He glanced around at them, hesitating, wanting a good tactical position, got conscious that we were all watching, didn’t like that, and dropped himself onto the closest one, which put him with his back to Fabian. With that settled, Fabian sat down too, but his hand didn’t come out of his pocket.
Wolfe leaned back and his fingertips met at the summit of his magnificent middle. “First,” he said, “about Mr. Perrit’s daughter. The police know that the young woman who was killed last night was not his daughter, but they do not know that he actually has a daughter. I do, and I know who and where she is, because Mr. Perrit told me about her in this room yesterday. At this moment she is—”
“Go slow,” Fabian said. I never heard him speak without wishing to God he would clear his throat.
“If you please,” Wolfe snapped. “No power on earth, Mr. Fabian, not even the kind of primitive power you rely on, will keep me from telling this properly. You could shoot me, but you’re not going to, so don’t interrupt. Mr. Perrit’s daughter is at this moment in this house, upstairs looking at my orchids. He—”
“That’s a lie!” Morton Schane declared, with his chin jerked up.
“She doesn’t think so.” Wolfe’s eyes went to him. “Stop interrupting me. Mr. Perrit entrusted her interests to me and I intend to guard them. I’m not going to waste time telling you men things you already know. You know he had a daughter and was keeping her identity concealed, both from his enemies and from his friends. Some eighteen months ago he discovered that Mr. Meeker had learned of her existence and was trying to find her, so he tried a finesse. He went to Salt Lake City and arranged with a young woman named Murphy, a fugitive from justice, to come to New York and live with him as his daughter.”
“Go slow,” Fabian said.
“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Fabian. The police know all that. The arrangement was made, and Miss Murphy came to New York and became Miss Violet Perrit. But before long she violated the agreement. She began demanding sums of money, increasingly larger, with the threat that she would make a disclosure if he didn’t pay. He paid. Then, Sunday evening, night before last, she asked for fifty thousand dollars. Harassed beyond endurance, he came to me for help. He gave me, I think — me and Mr. Goodwin — a correct and accurate account as far as it went, but not a complete one. He did not tell me that Miss Murphy had somehow found out who and what and where his daughter was, though he must have known that she had. In any event, I know it, having deduced it.”
Wolfe stopped for an extra breath and went on, “There was another thing that Mr. Perrit almost certainly knew, since everything connected with his daughter was of special concern to him, but didn’t tell me. Miss Murphy, out West, had been attached to a young man, or he had been attached to her, or both. He came to New York — I don’t know when, but it may be surmised that it was about the time Miss Murphy began demanding money from Mr. Perrit — probably shortly before that — and he and Miss Murphy resumed their — friendship. From Miss Murphy the young man learned the identity of Mr. Perrit’s daughter and decided on a stroke of his own. Unknown to Miss Murphy, he contrived to meet the daughter, to pursue a friendship with her, to ask her to marry him, and to be accepted. He had enough education and temerity to masquerade as a law student, and indeed, his temerity was unlimited. He didn’t bother about an alias. I suppose at the beginning, he regarded the two worlds as too far apart ever to get connected, and if he regretted it later on it was too late to change. Anyhow, he became engaged to marry Mr. Perrit’s daughter under his own, Morton Schane.”
“That’s a lie.” It was Morton again. His tone wasn’t as loud as it had been before, but it packed more weight.