At a quarter to five that afternoon I was seated on a wooden chair at a wooden table, face to face with Matthew Blount, with my notebook on the table and my pen in my hand. After years of practice I had proved more than once that I could report verbatim, without notes, an hour-long three- or four-way conversation,
but I was taking no chances with this one. Once before, six years back, I had been admitted to the hoosegow to confer with a man in for the big one, by name Paul Herold, alias Peter Hays, but that time there had been a grill between us,
in a big room which contained other inmates and visitors. This time the room was small and we had no company; the guard who had brought him was standing outside the glass door. Of course there were two reasons why the DA had let me come at an off hour and given us some privacy: one, Blount was a prominent citizen with plenty of prominent friends; and two, the murder of Kalmus had made him suspect that he had hold of the short end of the stick.
Matthew Blount, forty-seven, Harvard 1937, did not look as you would expect of a man who had been in the jug for twelve days on a murder rap. Not that he was chipper, but the skin of his well-arranged face, shaved that day, was smooth and clear, his hair had been trimmed within three or four days, his hands were perfectly clean and so were his nails, his custom-made jacket might have been pressed that morning, his shirt was on its first day, and he had a necktie on.
He could have gone as was to Peacock Alley for a drink if he could have got past the guard at the door and on out.
It wasn’t easy to persuade him that I was as good as Nero Wolfe. I explained that even if Wolfe had broken the one rule he never broke, and come, it wouldn’t have made any difference, because as soon as he got home he would have told me everything that was worth telling.
“No, he wouldn’t,” Blount said. “He would have been bound to secrecy.”
“Not a chance,” I said. “No one has ever bound him to secrecy or ever will if it means leaving me out. He leaves me out only if and when he wants to. If he had come and you insisted that he keep it strictly to himself he would have walked out on you.”
He shook his head. “I have told this to no one, not even my wife, because I was ashamed of it. I still am. Only Kalmus knew about it, and he’s dead. I don’t -
oh. You’re Archie Goodwin'You went there and found him, and my daughter was with you?”
“Right.”
“Did my daughter - how was she?”
“She did fine. Three minutes after we found him she could leave on her own feet,
alone, take the elevator down, and get a taxi. Your wife and daughter are both fine, as I told you, Mr. Blount. As soon as -“
“Forget the Mister.”
“Sure. As soon as it had been arranged for me to get the permit to see you they left together, for home.”
“I want a straight answer to a straight question. Did my wife tell Wolfe what it is that I want him to investigate?”
“No. She said she didn’t know. She said no one knew - except Kalmus.”
He nodded. “Then he kept his word. There aren’t many men you can rely on absolutely. Dan Kalmus was one. And he’s dead.” He set his jaw. In a moment he went on. This thing I’m ashamed of, I have told no one. McKinney wanted me to tell him this morning, he insisted, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t tell Kalmus, he knew all about it. From what he told me about Nero Wolfe, I decided he was the man to tell. Now you say I must tell you.”
“Not you must. I only say that telling me is the same as telling Mr. Wolfe. I add this, that I will tell only him. Also I’ll tell you what he would say if you tried to bind him to secrecy. He would say that the best protection for your secret would be his discretion, and that if a circumstance arose that made him think it necessary to disclose it he would first tell you. That’s the best you’d get from him. From me, you get my word that I’ll tell him and no one else in any circumstances whatever.”
Our eyes were meeting, and he knew how to meet eyes. “Kalmus was my lawyer,” he said.
“I know he was.”
“Now I’ll have to get another one, and I won’t tell him, and I won’t want you or Wolfe to tell him.”
“Then we won’t. What the hell, Blount, what is it'After all this - did you poison that chocolate yourself?”
“Yes. I did.”
I stared. “You did'
“Yes.”
“Then no wonder.” I put the pen in my pocket and closed the notebook, which I hadn’t used. For this I preferred my memory to a notebook, which could be lost or even possibly taken from me on my way out. I demanded. “This is the fact known only to Kalmus and you that he was counting on to clear you?”
“Yes. I bitterly regret it and I’m bitterly ashamed of it. As you know, I made the arrangements for Jerin to come to the club. I arranged all the details. I knew he drank chocolate when he was playing chess, and I told the steward to have some prepared. I don’t know, and I never will know, how in the name of God I conceived the idea of putting something in the chocolate that would befuddle him. I’m not a practical joker, I never have been. It may have been suggested by something somebody said, but if so I don’t remember it, and anyway it was I who did it. It’s even possible that I was prouder of my skill at chess than I thought I was and I had a subconscious resentment of a man who could give me odds of a rook and beat me. I hate to think I’m that petty, but damn it, I did it. I put something in the chocolate while I was taking it upstairs and stirred it with a pencil.”
“Arsenic, to befuddle him?”
“It wasn’t arsenic. It was poison, since anything toxic is a poison, but it wasn’t arsenic. I didn’t know exactly what it was until later, when I had it analyzed. Kalmus got it for me. I told him what I intended to do, as a precaution; there wasn’t much risk of discovery, but I wanted to know if it would be criminally actionable. He said no, and he liked the idea, and that wasn’t surprising because I thought he would, it was the kind of prank that would appeal to him. But he said I must be extremely careful of what I used, of course I knew that, and he offered to find out what would be best for the effect we wanted, and I asked him to get it, and he said he would. Which he did. He gave it to me that evening, that Tuesday evening, at the club. It was a two-ounce bottle, a liquid, and he told me to use about half of it. Which I did.” He pointed a finger at me. “Listen, Goodwin. I don’t want my wife or daughter ever to know what an incredible chump I was, in any circumstances.”
“Yeah. I don’t blame you. So of course you had to go for the chocolate and take it to him.”
“Of course.”
“And when Yerkes came and told you Jerin was sick you went and got the pot and cup and washed them out and brought fresh chocolate.”
“Of course. I went to see him, and obviously he had had enough.”
“Did you suspect then that there was something in the chocolate besides what you put in?”
“No, why should I'Kalmus had given me the bottle, and it had been in my pocket until I used it.”
“When he got worse and Kalmus got Dr Avery to go to him, didn’t you suspect then that something else had been put in the chocolate by someone?”
“No. I didn’t suspect that until two days later, Thursday. What I did suspect was that a mistake had been made in preparing the contents of the bottle. So did Kalmus. I began to suspect that when Jerin got so bad he had to be taken to the hospital, and on my way to the hospital - I walked, and I was alone - I hid the bottle, and later, on my way home -“
“Where did you hide it?”
“In a plant tub. In the areaway of one of the houses I passed there was a tub with an evergreen shrub, and I put the bottle in under the peat moss. When I left the hospital later, that was after Jerin died, I got it and took it home,
and the next day I took it to a laboratory to have it analyzed. I got the report -“
“What laboratory?”
“The Ludlow Laboratories on Forty-third Street. I got the report on the analysis the next day, Thursday, and showed it to Kalmus. It was just what he had ordered, a very mild dilution of a mixture of chloral hydrate and carbon tetrachloride. It couldn’t possibly have been fatal even if I had used all of it.”
“No arsenic?”
“No, damn it, just what I said.”
“Where’s the report now?”
“In a locked drawer in my desk at my office, and the bottle too, with what’s left in it.”
“Well’ I took a moment to look at it. “You didn’t suspect that someone else had put arsenic in the chocolate, you knew it. Didn’t you'Since you knew they had found arsenic in Jerin?”
“Of course I knew it.”
“Did you have any idea who?”
“No.”
“Have you any idea now?”
“Apparently it must have been one of four men, the four who acted as messengers,
because they were the only ones who entered the library. That didn’t seem possible because none of them could have had any reason. Then last week Kalmus had the idea that the purpose had been to get me - to get me where I am. But who'Of course not Kalmus, and which one of the other three could possibly have wanted to get me'They’re my friends. One of them is my wife’s nephew.”
“Are you telling me you still have no idea which one it was?”
“I am.”
I turned a hand over. “Look. Last night Kalmus was murdered, and almost certainly by the man who killed Jerin to get you. If so Kalmus had an idea, and a damn good one - too good. He tried to do something about it, which wasn’t very bright since he had got you to hire Nero Wolfe, and he got slugged and strangled. He came yesterday afternoon and talked you into hiring Nero Wolfe,
didn’t he?”
“He didn’t have to talk me into it. I didn’t oppose it.”
“But he talked, and he had some one man in mind. He must have. Didn’t he say who?”
“No. He only said that he would have to tell Nero Wolfe about it, about what I had put in the chocolate, because he had to have an expert investigator and Wolfe was the best. If he had any one man in mind he didn’t say so. He just -
wait a minute. He did say one thing. He asked me if I didn’t see what might have happened, and I said no and asked him what he meant, and he said he would tell me after he had discussed it with Wolfe. You think he had a particular man in mind?”
“Of course he did.”
“Who?”
That was one of the biggest temptations I have ever had to strangle. It would have been highly satisfying to show the client then and there that while Wolfe had the best brain he didn’t have the only brain, not to mention the additional pleasure of telling Wolfe what I had told the client. But I had to skip it;
there was one chance in a thousand that I was wrong, and I needed to examine it for possible holes.
So I shook my head. “Search me,” I said. “There may have been something in his apartment that would give a hint, but if so the cops have got it now. I could go on asking you questions, plenty of them, but I’ve got what I came for, the fact that was known only to Kalmus and you, and it’s quite a fact, and Kalmus would be alive now if he had waited to consult Nero Wolfe instead of going ahead on his own.” I picked up the notebook that had nothing in it. “When Mr. Wolfe decides how to proceed he may let you know and he may not. With you here it’s complicated and it takes time.” I rose and got my hat and coat from a chair. “He can’t consult with your lawyer because even if you had one you wouldn’t want him to know about this.”
“But how will he - what will he do?”
“I don’t know. That’s for him. One thing sure, he’ll do something, but first he may send me back to you with questions. You may see me again tomorrow.” I stuck an arm in the coat.
He was on his feet. “My God,” he said. “My whole - I’m completely in the hands of a man I’ve never seen. Remember what I said, I’d rather stay here a month, a year, than have my wife and daughter know what an utter fool I was.”
That was what was on his mind as we parted, with a handshake, but not on mine.
Was it possible that it was as simple as it looked'Wasn’t there a catch somewhere'As I went along the corridor, under escort, and on out to the sidewalk, and flagged a taxi, I looked it over from every angle, and by the time the taxi turned into Thirty-fifth Street I had decided that it was a hundred to one on two conclusions: one, I knew exactly what had happened that evening at the Gambit Club; and two, it would take a better man than even Nero Wolfe to prove it. There was positively no crack anywhere to get a wedge started.
But at least I could jostle him. Whatever he might have expected me to bring back, if anything, he hadn’t expected this. It was two minutes past six as the taxi rolled to the curb in front of the old brownstone, so he would be down from the plant rooms. I paid the hackie and got out, mounted the stoop and used my key, put my hat and coat on the hall rack, and went to the office. He was at his desk, opening a book with a blue binding; apparently African Genesis was finished. As I crossed to my desk he closed it. I put the unused notebook in the drawer, sat and faced him, and said, “I can name the man who killed Paul Jerin and Dan Kalmus.”
“Flummery,” he growled.
“No, sir. Any odds you name. But I prefer to see if you’re as sharp as I am, so I’ll just report, and I’ll begin by giving you the jolt Blount gave me. He poisoned the chocolate.”
“Pfui. Who killed Kalmus?”
“You’ll soon know. Verbatim?”
“Yes.”
I gave it to him, straight through. Usually he closes his eyes when I start a report and keeps them closed, but that time they opened when I asked Blount if he had poisoned the chocolate himself and he said yes, he did, and they didn’t close again until Blount said the report and the bottle were in a drawer in his office desk. When I finished he opened them, cocked his head, and said, “No wonder you can name him.”
“Yes, sir. I guess it’s a tie. I have a question. Had this possibility occurred to you Tuesday noon when you had Sally phone and get them to come, including him?”
“No. How could it'It was the chocolate that made Jerin ill, indubitably. Now that is accounted for.” He took a deep breath. “I am inexpressibly relieved. It has been all but intolerable, the strain of insulting my intelligence by forcing it to assume that one of them tampered with the chocolate when he entered to report a move, with Jerin there, and with the likelihood - no, certainty - that someone would interrupt at any instant. I knew it was egregious, and so did you.