He ran down. I grinned at him. “No spik Eenglis.”
“But I tell you—”
“No, brother. If you didn’t kill her, you’d be overpaying me. If you did, you’re a piker. But if it will relieve your mind any to know it, my rule is never to give a cop anything to hold if it’s something I might want back. There are a few pieces of information I intend to keep at least temporarily for my private use — since Nero Wolfe has retired — and the fact that you sneak into bars in private houses is one of them.”
“But — you say temporarily — I’ve got to know—”
“That’s the best I can do for you, and don’t offer me any more pennies. My mother told me not to accept money from strangers.”
He was by no means satisfied. It appeared that what he wanted was an anti-aggression bloc with unilateral action rigidly excluded, and he was pretty stubborn about it. I don’t know how I would have got rid of him if John Charles Dunn hadn’t come down the hall, caught sight of him, and taken him off into a room. For, I calculated, a report of his session with Skinner.
The second approach to my anchorage by the window was just after I had returned from a trip to the library to get an ash tray. This time I wasn’t being sought for; at least it didn’t look like it. Sara and Celia and Andy came up together from the floor below, and saw me, and Sara said something to the other two which seemed to start an argument. They hissed back and forth for a couple of minutes, and then Andy and Celia entered at the open door through which I had seen May and June seated talking, and Sara trotted up to me. As she approached I observed:
“I see they haven’t arrested you yet.”
“Of course not. Why should they?”
“They’re apt to. If you confess to enough crimes and misdemeanors, you’ll hit on one they can’t prove you didn’t do.”