Over My Dead Body

But it was Cramer, ushered in by Fritz. He glanced sharply around, offered a curt collective greeting, and, finding his usual chair occupied by Neya Tormic, took one at the left of Carla Lovchen.

"Where's the Zorka woman?" he demanded.

"Not here yet," I told him.

"Where's Stebbins?"

"In the kitchen eating our food."

He grunted and looked at Carla. "I told him to bring Miss Tormic."

Carla said, "I came along," in a tone that indicated an intention to stay.

"I see you did. Well, Mr Wolfe?"

"We'll wait for Madame Zorka. In the meantime, what did the commissioner learn from the Consul-General?"

Cramer glowered at him.

"Oh, come," Wolfe said testily, "don't degrade discretion into secretiveness. If either of these girls killed Mr Ludlow, they certainly knew who he was. The fact that you have found that out might frighten them into betraying something. If they didn't kill him, what's the difference?"

Cramer growled, "To-morrow's papers will have it anyway, I suppose. They always do. Ludlow was a confidential agent of the British Government."

"Indeed. What was he doing at the fencing studio? Working or playing?"

"The consul doesn't know. Ludlow reported direct to London. They're trying to get someone in London now. It's five o'clock in the morning there. I told you before that this looks-"

He stopped to let me answer the phone. It was a call for him, and I made room for him to take it at my desk.

After he had listened a while he used profanity again. That made it evident he had got more than a minor irritation, since he had old-fashioned ideas about swearing in front of ladies, and he had strong principles to which he steadfastly adhered when they didn't interfere with his work. Finally he cut the connexion, banging the thing into the cradle, went back and sat down, and sighed clear to his belt.

He glared at Wolfe and demanded, "What was the big idea of getting this Zorka down here? Spill it!"

Wolfe shook his head. "Wait till she gets here. Was that her on the phone? Isn't she coming?"

"Coming hell. She's skipped!"

"Skipped?"

"Gone! Left! Departed! And you knew she was going to! You had me send a man up there on a run-around! Damn you, Wolfe, I've told you twenty times that some day-"

"Please, Mr Cramer." Wolfe was frowning in distaste. "I beg you, sir. I don't make a game of run sheep run out of a murder. I hadn't the faintest notion that Madame Zorka intended to skip. She telephoned here-what time, Archie?"

I glanced at my pad. "Eleven twenty-one."