The inspector lowered his chin and elevated his cigar. “Now just suppose. Andy Dunn and the Fleet girl, and Dunn himself and that Stauffer, were the first ones at the scene when the body was found. Suppose they looked around out of curiosity and one of them found something. A lady’s compact or a pack of cigarettes or a handkerchief — anything. Maybe they knew it belonged to Miss Karn and maybe not. Maybe Stauffer did — he knows her. Maybe they just decided to ditch it on general principles, thinking no lady should be involved. Then they got a sock in the eye when the will was read. The whole pile, except a measly half million, to Miss Karn! So they put their heads together, and if you ask me, Prescott was in it too. But it was too ticklish for him to handle it himself. They went to you and showed you the compact or whatever it was. Maybe they already knew it belonged to Miss Karn, or maybe it was part of your job to prove that. Anyhow you were to put the screws on her.
“And now that the murder’s out, where are they and where are you? They can’t open the bag even if they wanted to, without admitting that they concealed knowledge of a crime and evidence of it. And they wouldn’t want to even if they could, because if she was tried and convicted the estate would be divided by the court, and if she was tried and acquitted it would all be hers and they could whistle. Don’t you think that’s logical?”
Wolfe nodded. “Perfect,” he declared. “I congratulate you. I don’t see a loophole in it anywhere. Did you suppose all that without any help?”
“I did. For help I’m coming to you. Here I am and there it is. I’m making you a proposition. Cough it up, and get them to do the same, and I guarantee no trouble and no publicity on that angle of it for anybody concerned. I guarantee to handle Skinner. I realize you’ll have to consult them first, and I’ll give you until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Wolfe said in a silky voice, “It’s regrettable. Nearly every order you place with me is something I haven’t in stock. Good day, sir, Archie—”
“Wait a minute.” Cramer’s eyes had narrowed. “This time you’re going to lose. This time, thank God, I’ve got more than you to work on. I can crack one or more of that outfit wide open, and I’m going to. Then you know where you’ll be. I’ve come to you with an absolutely fair offer—”
“You’ve charged me,” Wolfe snapped, “with being a knave and a nincompoop. Good day, sir.”
I’ll give you until—”
“Don’t give me anything. I don’t want it.”
“You’re a damn bullheaded boob.”