“Sure. His bean’s out.” I waved it out with my hand. “But what about his facts? Such as Elkus going back alone to the office?”
Wolfe shook his head. “You see, Archie? The dizzy revolutions of Mr. Chapin’s cunning wheel of vengeance have hurled you off on a tangent. Consider what we have engaged to do under our memorandum: free our clients from fear of Paul Chapin’s designs. Even if it were possible to prove that Dr. Elkus poisoned Mr. Dreyer’s drink — which I strongly doubt — to what purpose should we attempt it? No; let us stick to the circumference of our own necessities and desires. Inspector Cramer might some day have a fact for us, as anyone might, there is no denying that, but he is welcome to this one. It is beyond our circle of endeavor.”
“Still I don’t see it. Look here. Say Elkus put the stuff in Dreyer’s glass. Of course Chapin was in on it, look at the second warning. How are you going to prove Chapin guilty of Dreyer’s murder unless you also prove how Elkus did his part?”
Wolfe nodded. “Your logic is impeccable. Your premise is absurd. I haven’t the slightest expectation of proving Chapin guilty of Dreyer’s murder.”
“Then what the devil—”
I got that much out before I realized exactly what he had said. I stared at him. He went on:
“It could not be expected that you should know Paul Chapin as I know him, because you have not had the extended and intimate association that I have enjoyed — through his books. He is possessed of a demon. A fine old melodramatic phrase. The same thing can be said in modern scientific terms, but it would mean no more and its flavor would be much impaired. He is possessed of a demon, but he is also, within certain limits, an extraordinarily astute man. Emotionally he is infantile — he even prefers a vicar to a substitute, when the original object is unattainable, as witness his taking Dora Ritter to proxy for her mistress. But his intellectual competence is such that it is problematical whether factual proof could ever be obtained of any act of his which he intended to remain anonymous.”
He stopped for some beer. I said, “If you mean you give up, you’re wasting a lot of time and money. If you mean you’re waiting for him to croak another one, and you’re tailing him to watch him do it, and he’s as smart as you say he is...”
I drank milk. Wolfe wiped his lips and went on: “Of course we have our usual advantage: we are on the offensive. And of course the place to attack the enemy is his weak spot; those are truisms. Since Mr. Chapin has an aversion to factual proof and has the intellectual equipment to preclude it, let us abandon the intellectual field, and attack him where he is weak. His emotions. I am acquainting you now with this decision which was made last Sunday. We are gathering what ammunition we may. Certainly facts are not to be sneered at; I need two more of them, possibly three, before I can feel confident of persuading Mr. Chapin to confess his guilt.”
Wolfe emptied his glass, I said, “Confess, huh? That cripple?”