Might as Well Be Dead

“And you are attorney-of-record for Peter Hays?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going to tell you something in confidence.”

Freyer’s eyes narrowed. “I will not be bound in confidence in any matter affecting my client’s interests.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. The only bond will be your respect for another man’s privacy. The interests of your client and my client may or may not intersect. If they do we’ll consider the matter; if they don’t, I shall rely on your discretion. This is the genesis of that advertisement.”

He told him. He didn’t report our long session with James R. Herold verbatim, but neither did he skimp it. When he was through, Freyer had a clear and complete picture of where we stood up to four o’clock that afternoon, when Freyer had rung our doorbell. The lawyer was a good listener and had interrupted only a couple of times, once to get a point straight and once to ask to see the picture of Paul Herold.

“Before I go on,” Wolfe said, “I invite verification. Of course Mr. Goodwin’s corroboration would have no validity for you, but you may inspect his transcription of the notes he made, five typewritten pages. Or you can phone Lieutenant Murphy, provided you don’t tell him who you are. On that, of course, I am at your mercy. At this juncture I don’t want him to start investigating a possible connection between your P.H. and my P.H.”

“Verification can wait,” Freyer conceded. “You would be a fool to invent such a tale, and I’m quite aware that you’re not a fool.” He had backed up in the chair and got more comfortable. “Finish it up.”

“There’s not much more. When you told Mr. Goodwin that your client’s background was unknown to you and that he had no family, he decided he had better have a look at Peter Hays, and he went to the courtroom for that purpose. His first glimpse of him, when he was brought into court, left him uncertain; but when, upon hearing the verdict, your client rose and turned to face the crowd, his face had a quite different expression. It had, or Mr. Goodwin thought it had, an almost conclusive resemblance to the picture of the youthful Paul Herold. When you asked to see the picture, I asked you to wait. Now I ask you to look at it. Archie?”