“I don’t remember.”
“I don’t see how you could help remembering. Perhaps this will bring it back to you: when you got him behind the shrub was his head pointing toward the house or away from the house?”
Kane was frowning. “I should remember that.”
“You should indeed.”
“But I don’t.” Kane shook his head. “I simply don’t remember.”
“I see.” Wolfe leaned back. “That’s all, Mr. Kane.” He flipped a hand. “Go and get on with your work.”
Kane was on his feet before Wolfe had finished. “I did the best I could,” he said apologetically. “As I said, I don’t seem to measure up very well in a crisis. I must have been so rattled I didn’t know what I was doing.” He glanced at Sperling, got no instructions one way or another, glanced again at Wolfe, sidled between two chairs, headed for the door, and was gone.
When the door closed behind him Sperling looked down at Wolfe and demanded, “What good did that do?”
Wolfe grunted. “None at all. It did harm. It made it impossible for me, when I return home, to forget all this and set about restoring my plants.” He slanted his head back to get Sperling’s face. “He must owe you a great deal — or he would hate to lose his job. How did you get him to sign that statement?”
“I didn’t get him to. As it says, he wrote and signed it of his own free will.”